Both sound rather horrible actually, but at least the former results in me getting some new clothes.
The one primary predicament left is I don’t have any money.
But I do have emerald earrings my mother gave me once.
Now, I do personally consider myself to be a sentimental, but she isn’t, so I’d like to think that in this particular instance, my mother would be more proud of me than less for being pragmatic enough to sell my earrings for clothes.*
When I walk into town, I’m half expecting everyone to stare at me because of my unsightly appearance, but I realise quickly and sort of all at once that （1） no one cares, （2） I look fine, and perhaps most importantly, （3） Peter Pan is a bollocking arsehole.
I have half a mind to turn around and away, but now that I’m actually here, I also have half a mind to see if I can hitch a ride back with someone to London.?
The terribleness of him! It feels more tangible away from him, almost as though a fog has lifted.
I blow some air out of my mouth and spin on my heel, maybe to leave,? but I find myself face-to-face with a pirate.
“Aye,” Jamison Hook sighs, but he’s smiling. “So ye cudnae keep away.”
I frown up at him. “I beg your pardon?”
“Ye came to see me.” He lifts his eyebrows playfully.
My hands fly to my hips. “I most certainly did not!”
He gives me half a smile. “Sure, I see the way ye look at me.”
I scoff, shaking my head, but I swallow nervously in case that’s true. “You’re awfully cocky.”
“Aye.” He nods coolly. “And you’re holed up in a tree with Peter Pan, so I ken that your fond o’ cocky.”
I flick him a look. “Well, ever less so by the second.”
And do you know what? He could have so easily pried there—it was practically an invitation to—but he doesn’t. He doesn’t ask for more information, and he doesn’t poke. Just a single eyebrow of his goes up, and he tilts his head as he processes what I just said wordlessly.
He crosses his arms over his chest and looks at me in this way I can’t quite unpack.
“I am surprised that ye even remember me.” He flicks an eyebrow up, and I give him a look as though I think he’s being annoying, but truthfully, I’m pleased he’s still here. Jamison mashes his lips together. “Are ye finding things a wee bit hazy yet?”
I stare over at him before I blink a few times. It’s been years since I felt like someone understood me here, except have I been here years? Or is it just days?
“Actually, yes.” I let out a bewildered laugh. “That’s funny, isn’t it?”
He presses his lips together, and I don’t know why, but something akin to nervousness creeps up my spine a little, so I let out a single laugh to show him that I’m fine even though I’m not sure that I am, except why wouldn’t I be?
I give him a bright smile. “Does that happen to you here too?”
“It’s no’ a here thing.” His mouth pulls a little as he shakes his head. “It’s a there thing.”
My face falters. “What do you mean a ‘there thing’？ Where?”
He scratches his neck and gives me a long look before he breathes out his nose. “You never wonder why none of ye remember anything thonner?”
“It’s Neverland, that’s all.” I shrug dismissively. “Things…slip.”
Jamison shakes his head. “No’ for everyone.”
I stare up at him, my mouth ajar. “Really?”
“I remember everything.” He shrugs like it’s nothing.
I frown, confused. “Even from a week ago?” I ask him as though that’s some great feat.
“Aye.” He sort of breathes out a laugh. “A week ago to the day, I had a salmon skin roll fer lunch. I won a particularly hefty hand o’ cards thon same night. The day afore that for breakfast, I had…” He squints, thinking back. “Eggs. Boiled. Runny yolk. Toast.”
He nods at his memory,* and I do find myself thinking that he’s very, very lovely to look at— He keeps going.
“I went to the bank that day. Deposited something in my safe. I had sex that night—”
I frown immediately, and I do wish that I didn’t because it’s an obvious frown, and he catches it, lets it hang there, the invisible implication of my frown, what it’s saying without saying, and he—that terrible, beautiful twat of man—says nothing for a full, hideous, awful six seconds. And then he takes a step towards me, eyes locked. He gives me a steadying nod.