I squint, confused. “Or what size I am?”
She sighs, bored, and picks up her cup of tea, staring at Jamison. He puts his arm around me and smiles apologetically as he guides me out of the shop.
“Be back in a wee bit,” he calls to her, and she swats us away, looking annoyed.
“What are you doing?” I growl up at him once we’re back outside. “She doesn’t know what I want!”
“She’s magic,” he tells me like I should have known.
I look back over my shoulder, excited. “Is she?”
“Yer in Neverland, remember?” He gives me a look, his eyebrows up. “Or hae ye forgotten that too?”
“An hour.” I purse my lips. “What shall we do?”
“We?” He blinks and I frown at him. Then he laughs, pushing his hands though his hair. It’s in a low ponytail today. “I could finish thon tour.”
“Oh.” I nod sarcastically. “Because you’re so good at those.”
“Daen ye come back for seconds?” He smirks down at me, and then I notice something about him.
“Oh, actually.” I stare at him. “You’re rather incredibly clean.”
“What?” His face scrunches up.
“You’re very clean.”
“Thank…you?” He frowns.
“Can I ask you a strange favor?”
He rolls his eyes as he shakes his head. “It’s always take and take with ye.” But he bites his bottom lip at the end of that and gives me a half smile as he waves his hand impatiently.
“Do you have a shower?” I ask him, hopeful. “Or a bath?”
He sniffs a laugh. “Aye, a bath.” Then he nods his head towards his boat.
We walk to it in silence, and it does a number on me for some reason, walking voluntarily onto the ship of a pirate. It goes against everything my grandmothers told me, I think. Right? Did they say that? I can’t quite remember.
“So this is the Jolly Roger?” I ask when I step onto the deck.
It’s actually very gorgeous. Very ornate, very clean, I rather like it.
“No.” He shakes his head. “This is just my home.”
“Oh.” I nod once. “Does it have a name?”
“My ship?” He glances around it proudly before he nods. “Aye.”
I lift up my eyebrows, waiting for him.
“The Golden Folly.”
“And what is yours?” I ask him, eyebrows up.
“My golden folly?” he asks, mostly with his chin. “I’ll tell ye November second.”
I let out a small laugh as I shake my head at him, and that tongue of his presses into his bottom lip for a second, and then he looks away quickly.
“This way.” He leads me towards the back of the ship to a door that he swings open.
I don’t know what I was expecting, really. Less, I suppose. Less of a home, but it’s just gorgeous.
High wooden beams, dark wooden everything, mismatched Persian carpets, but lots of red and navy. It’s very warm. A big dining room table. A very serious-looking desk. A four-poster bed that makes me swallow heavy and my cheeks go pink just at the sight of it. Circle-top bow windows that run the lengths of the back of the ship and look over and across the bay.
And then, behind a six-panel room divider, a bath.
“Briggs?” Jamison calls out. “Briggs, are you in?”
A scuttle and then from （I’m quite sure） somewhere through the wall, a little elf appears.
Only about knee high, big, pointy ears, eyes farther apart than humans, a sweet button nose, messy hair, and big, wide feet. He looks a bit on the older side.
“Sir?” He smiles up pleasantly at Jamison, and I straighten up, delighted.
“This is Ms. Beaumont-Darling.”
The elf bows.
“Please.” I touch my chest, shaking my head. “Call me Daphne.”
The elf shakes his head. “Inappropriate,” he grumbles.
“Oh.” I look at Jamison, alarmed. “I didn’t—I didn’t mean to—”
Hook catches my eye, amused, before he looks back at the elf. “Briggs, Daphne would like a bath. Would ye mind running her one, please?”
Briggs nods, then bows to me and moves behind the panel.
“Is that a hob?” I ask, craning my head to see him.
“Shh!” Hook rushes to me, clamping his hand over my mouth. “Ye cannae say that!”
“What?” I say, muffled, under his hand.
He gives me a look. “It’s derogatory.”