A public assembly, Miss Emma Swan decided years ago, was an occasion for one to be either extremely agreeable or completely disagreeable. And this particular dance in Storybrooke, on that particular night, she could, with only some little trouble to herself and some possible offense to others, arrange in those exact two categories.
The agreeable
Miss Emma Swan
At the very start of the evening Miss Swan herself was prepared to be extremely agreeable indeed. And the reason, for the most part, lay in the expression on Captain Killian Jones' face when he entered the rooms.
If betting was an appropriate pastime for young ladies, she would've bet her fortune, her honour and the very gown she was wearing that there had never been, nor will there ever be, a more reluctant and ill-disposed man to cross that threshold.
Now, contrary to what a large part of their intimate acquaintance might believe, Miss Swan merely took pleasure in outwitting Captain Jones and none at all in causing him pain. But they had been acquainted two years now – due to her newfound, and his longstanding, friendship with the Nolans – and she had not once seen Jones at a ball, nor heard it talked of him attending one or having ever done so. Though she knew the last one to be impossible, for a man could hardly be the brother of Captain Liam Jones and the close friend of Mr and Mrs Nolan and never attend a ball (nor could he likely find a wife without doing so and she knew that he had had one of those some five years ago).
So, on the whole, Miss Swan was much too thrilled at the prospect of finally seeing the captain make such an appearance, and even more so at his obvious reluctance, to think about being anything but agreeable. Truthfully, she rather thought Captain Jones responsible for putting her in such a good mood and thus responsible for the unforeseen progression of her evening.
But that could wait. First she had to admit into her club of agreeableness the person of
Captain Liam Jones
Cunning as always, he still managed to impress her with what she perceived as nothing short of pure genius.
Owning to his recent return to land, he had almost no acquaintances in town outside of their party. And of that party Lady Ingrid, despite being far from an old lady, rarely danced (much too eager to encourage others to do so instead), Mrs Nolan knew far too many people to be limited for partners (should she choose to dance) and Miss Anna could not be thought of before her older sister was provided for (but when that moment came she needn't be worried about in the least). This, Emma later realized, had left only her own good self in between Captain Jones and Miss Froster, as she had been much longer acquainted with Liam than Elsa had.
But, of course, the sly man had found a way around it, asking her the day before when he knew Emma was certain to refuse him. Oh, she would think herself fanciful and ridiculous, if it wasn't for the speed and self-satisfied manner with which Liam approached Miss Froster minutes after making his entrance and solicited her company, bemoaning the cruel manner in which her particular friend (and this with a most pointed and not at all regrettable look at herself) had refused him the day before. Emma would've liked to tell him that she was much too happy to be rid of such a partner, who, she knew, would've spent their dances looking for another blonde head around the room.
She could never picture herself shocked by Liam's scheming and success. He was known for always having one scheme or another in progress (mostly aimed at his brother). He was also known for being successful in all of his undertakings – be them honourable or slightly questionably so. It was indeed the other pair of fine legs in that little dance that Emma was surprised to find so willing.
Miss Elsa Froster
If Miss Swan had known her friend not quite so long or not quite so well, she might've been fooled into thinking Elsa ignorant of any particular thought or attention on Captain Jones's part. But she had known her long and she had known her well, and just because Emma had never seen her eyes sparkle quite like that before did not in any way signify that she did not understand the meaning behind the look.
Curious and eager to know, still she was content enough for now to entrust Elsa to the elder Jones and turn her eye elsewhere.
Mr Hans Islington
Rather tall, rather handsome, with rather pleasing manners and rather skilled in the Scottish reel. And for all his most promising rather's, Emma remained unconvinced.
Indeed she had been blamed many a time, and each one unfairly so, she would claim, of a distrustful nature, a most unforgiving temper and a quick manner of forming her many opinions. To the temper and manner she might submit but her nature she must fight for and defend. She believed it was no inherent distrust of all of mankind but a most pressing feeling deep inside that could not and, she had firm belief and some not unimpressive experience, should not be ignored.
And that telltale feeling told tales of Mr Islington's not quite so absolute trustworthiness, or worthiness in general, despite his indisputable presence among the most agreeable people in most rooms he entered.
And yet, how could Emma pass judgement on a gentleman who had been most properly introduced to them by a cousin of Lady Ingrid's and had asked both Elsa and Anna to dance, giving precedence where precedence was due but showing curiosity and affection where curiosity and affection had been inspired?
How could Emma pass judgement on anyone when her own conduct had shifted so severely throughout the evening?
The disagreeable
Miss Emma Swan
(and by proxy Mr Neal Gold or the other way around)
Oh, Emma did not care for pomp and ceremony but she held (even now, even after such an evening) that she did care about propriety. Perhaps not quite as much as Mrs Nolan and Lady Ingrid and perhaps not quite as successfully as Miss Froster and Captain Jones but she cared none the less. Which is probably why, when faced with her own failure to uphold it, she was so willing to fling her ire where it was probably least due.
"But, oh, if Killian would've just come off his high horse this one time!"
"Emma!"
Elsa's eyes had been blazing with reproach ever since she caught Emma's eye on the dancefloor hours ago and now, in the privacy of her room, she let it be known in every word.
At that moment Elsa's hand had been in that of Mr Nolan – a respectable, married man as we well know, a close friend, one of the kindest souls that ever lived, and Emma's – in that of Mr Gold – a cheerful-looking, young man who not one of them knew the first thing about, who had no qualms about asking Emma to dance, despite not being introduced and having never spoken to the lady before in their lives, had no qualms even about retaining her hand for not one or two but three dances. And Emma… Oh, dear, impulsive Emma.
"Well, it's true! What was I to do? Refuse a perfectly amicable young man and sit there by myself like some old spinster?"
"You were to refuse a perfectly imprudent stranger and sit out a single dance in the company of my aunt."
"Oh, you have such a way of making me sound positively horrid. As if you all behaved so handsomely!"
"I will not pretend to know what you are talking about, Emma, but I do not see how comparing your actions to those of others makes them any less reprehensible."
Emma felt a little shudder go up her spine despite herself. She was well-acquainted with Elsa's cold condemnation but she had so rarely had it turned on herself and never with quite such a force. For a second, a precious moment in time, she had the thought of folding, admitting her fault and asking her friend's forgiveness and advice.
But Emma was so quick to jump when squeezed into a corner that she often leaped right over those treasured moments of could-have-been reconciliation.
"You need not pretend for I am perfectly willing to tell you what I mean. Mary-Margaret and David were quite tranquil in abandoning us all the minute we walked in and your aunt would suffer twice as much and twice as strongly over any of us sitting a dance out as we ever could."
"Oh, Emma-"
"And Anna! Why should I be judged for dancing with a gentleman that asked me, while everyone is making a Mrs Islington of her already!"
"Because the gentleman in question is known to the family and was properly introduced and still restrained himself to the proper two dances with my sister and all this you know perfectly well."
"Oh, proper and perfect! Don't talk to me about proper and perfect, when you know how properly and perfectly Liam arranged it so he could have you all to himself."
Something inside Emma swelled with triumph as she watched Elsa's mouth fall open the slightest bit and her friend drew back almost on instinct.
"There was nothing improper in mine and Captain Jones's-"
"No, indeed. As I said it was all proper and perfect and all the more transparent for it."
And at this Miss Froster had nothing to respond, yet Emma's triumph did not grow on seeing the faint blush that had never been present on her friend's cheeks before. In a recess of her mind, she recognized that in another night just like this she could have delighted in it and teased with the best intentions and encouraged with the happiest phrases.
But tonight was a night when the soft pink in the one usually so reserved chilled something in the one always flaming.
"But then no one looks to the side when they are happy with what they see in front of them."
Elsa opened her lips to parry her friend's bitter tone, her ire having softened at the mention of her own tender success and now completely melting as sympathy sneaked between the cracks. But Emma would not be placated now.
"And Jones! Why, you are so quick to condemn me but where is your displeasure with a man who shows to a ball to do nothing but tempt and tease, to torment with his presence when he has no intention of…"
Elsa's brows creased in confusion as her friend struggled to order her words or, perhaps, as she finally realized what words were coming forth. She drew near again, getting the end of a muttered "just to torment me indeed", before she was faced with Emma's tired face and sad eyes.
"Berate me again tomorrow, will you?"
"Oh, Emma."
Elsa's arms went around her, finding her like a ragdoll as first but slowly, reluctantly Emma's arms came round her as well.
"You are aware that you are 34 and not dead, are you not?"
"I have put in the effort of attending one of those blasted balls you always prattle on about and this is the gratitude I have to show for it?"
"It hardly counts when your feet were so firmly rooted to that one corner the whole time, Killian. Wait. I have it, little brother! You don't think yourself dead but merely a tree. Tell me I have got at it at last!"
The younger man turned his attention back to wracking the coals in the fireplace between them.
"Come now, you have to tell me, if I have guessed it… What?... Would you not even speak now?"
"I know you have been quite long from land, brother, but need I remind you that trees to not speak?"
"Ah, no, indeed. But then again, you would've quite burned up, were you made of wood. What with the glares Miss Swan was throwing you all evening."
Killian abandoned the fire in favour of turning his back on his brother, taking off his coat, rolling up his sleeve and tackling the task of removing his prosthetic.
"Surely you could've asked her to dance at least once, Killian."
"I'm confident there is no shortage of gentlemen eager to dance with Miss Swan."
"Yes, indeed. Strange fellows with grins too big for their faces. Miss Froster was not too impressed with her friend for that one. Nor was anyone else, I believe."
"Ah, the collective society of Storybrooke taking grave offense at a young woman daring to enjoy herself at a dance. May we never let her forget her folly!"
"I believe-"
"And I believe you care a bit too much for what Miss Froster thinks, brother. Should I remind you of your own age?"
"I have not decided to retire straight from the seas to an empty house and a dusty library and I see no objection to a good ten years or so between a man and a woman."
The younger Jones felt his lips tick up despite himself.
"Aye. And you probably shouldn't. A dusty library would be so tormented by your constant pacing. And who cares really about the age of your face when your head is likely still that of a boy of 17."
"My head I shall defend from your cheap shots! But upon my heart you may take aim all you wish, brother, indeed it is not much older than 14, I believe."
"And already shot down, I'd say."
"Well, I hope I'm not that far gone so soon, but I see no harm in it, if I were."
"No, I thought you wouldn't."
"I see no harm in someone aiming for yours as well."
Killian's laugh was terse yet genuine.
"It is not worth the bullets, I assure you."
"An arrow then, perhaps."
The silence seemed to make Liam's voice quieter, more sombre. Or perhaps it was the tone of his voice that made one notice the silence and lent it such a tangible feeling.
"Truly, Killian, next time I shall accept no faux excuse for you behaving so at a ball."
"I do not remember giving any promise to attend another."
"You shall."
"And if I do, I must be the single person in possession of the most excuses to behave just as I have."
"Distant and disagreeable?"
"Disinclined to dance."
"Oh, are you claiming to be a tree again?"
"Merely not under 30-"
"And put to shame by gentlemen twice that."
"A widower-"
"Which, much like 34, is not equal to being dead."
"And I believe you are meant to handle a lady with two hands on a dancefloor."
"Ah, but you need just the one to make the offer."
Killian shook his head and chuckled darkly, he was not to come on top tonight and he knew it, his best plan of action would be to retreat for the night.
"Goodnight, brother."
"And I'm quite confident no more will be required."
"Goodnight, Liam."