"Hook, I will find you," Emma repeated for the seventh time since they'd climbed into Charon's ferry. "I will always find you."

Regina slid her eyes over to David, exchanging a disdainful look with him. Your daughter's a fucking idiot, she mouthed.

I know.

Henry shifted his gaze around the dark, cold cavern, flinching as a few icy drops of the Styx (which somehow ran through Maine?) sprayed in his face. Charon stood at the bow of the ferry, draped under a heavy, hooded cloak. It was good for atmosphere, but Henry couldn't help wondering how functional dragging that thing around really was: his sleeves kept getting caught, twisting around the paddle, and he kept tripping over the hem.

"Goddamn this thing!" Charon swore, tossing down the paddle to roll up his sleeves. "I can't fucking row like this! HADES, YOU BASTARD, I'VE HAD IT WITH THIS UNIFORM!"

Henry leaned over the side to see who he was talking to, but all he saw was a circle opening up in the floor, accompanied by the sound of gears clicking and whirring.

"What's that?" he asked, pointing as the growing hole in the floor revealed (yet another) cavern, though from what he could tell, he was actually looking through the ceiling of the large, dusty room beneath. Little fires erupted here and there, and in the center there was a huge armchair with a tall, suited man draped over the side of it. Henry squinted, trying to get a better look.

"Is that the Underworld?" he asked, crinkling his brow.

"It's the lobby," Charon growled. He turned around to the group at large, clapping his hands together. "All right, assholes, we're here. Now there's one, two, three…" He counted heads, moving his lips silently as he pointed from Henry to Rumple in the far back (who'd been dragged along against his will, because apparently Emma had some dirt on him), plus Leroy, who they'd brought along to exchange for Neal's soul. "So, that's eight of you. Two drachma for each, so that's a sixteen-drachma-fee, and have a nice day."

They all exchanged awkward looks, except for Emma, who was still staring vacantly into space.

"Er…" Rumple coughed into his fist. "We don't exactly have drachma. I can pay you in American money, though. How does twenty bucks sound?"

Charon glowered. "The hell am I supposed to do with that?"

"Okay, okay—fifty bucks."

"That's not the currency here!" Charon shouted. "I can't pay for stuff in American cash!"

"Damn it," Rumple swore. "I always forget about the currency exchange. Look, I'm sure we can reach some kind of agreement, right? How about, you take the money as collateral, and as soon as we come back, we'll sort out that drachma thingy, okay?"

Charon scratched his chin, considering. "You're making a return trip?"

"Oh, yeah," Rumple said, pulling out his wallet. "So, that's another sixteen drachma for you. Thirty-two drachma—"

"Thirty-four," Emma corrected with a frown. "We'll have Hook with us."

"Yes, but I already explained to you, dearie. You can't just bring him back with you. It's an exchange. Eight of us walk in, eight of us walk out."

"Unless nine of us walk out," Emma insisted. "I'm Emma Swan. I'm the Savior. That means, I can do whatever I want. If I want to make another Dark One, I fucking do it. If I want to reforge Excalibur and use it to fulfill, like, five different prophecies, I fucking do it."

"Okay, but basic math is not something you can negotiate, sweetheart," Rumple said irritably. "If you still have a problem with it, take it up with Aristotle. We might bump into him, while we're down here."

"True Love's Kiss can break any curse," Emma declared. "Even basic math."

"Leave it, Grandpa," Henry said as Rumple opened his mouth exasperatedly. "She's not even on our team, we're just giving her a ride."

"Speaking of—" Charon jutted his thumb. "You guys gotta get going. Got a lotta dead people to pick up, so skedaddle."

"Oh, real quick before we—er—skedaddle—" Robin pulled his phone out his inside jacket pocket. "How's the reception down here? I've left my two young children with the nuns, and I'd like to keep in touch with them, so they know Daddy's coming back soon."

Snow and David nodded emphatically, pulling out their own phones.

"Why would you make a trip to the Underworld, if you've got small children to take care of?" Charon frowned. "I mean, reception's pretty good and everything, but still… that's kind of a shitty thing for parents to do."

"Oh, pfft—" Snow waved her hand, scoffing. "It's okay—we weren't winning any medals anytime soon."

"Not the best parents," David admitted with a shrug. "We sent the last one through a portal, and you saw how she turned out."

"This is a critical attachment period for young children, though," Charon argued. "Your kids are going to grow up feeling unloved and unwanted, craving your affection and feeling like they're never good enough. Didn't you read the Ainsworth studies? Or what about the Harlow studies? Both have extremely good support that young children need to be around their parents, to develop psychological stability—"

"Okay, blah blah blah!" Snow said loudly, holding up her hand. "We've got an adventure to get started on!"

"Yeah, come on, man, what's with the lecture?" David scoffed.

Charon stared at them, openmouthed. "Wow…" he said slowly. "You guys are the worst parents I've ever seen. No wonder you're going to Hell. Assholes."