That would be Keira, sir. Keira Grey.
It’s a pleasure to meet you, miss Grey. What can I do for you?
A half smile played on her lips as she listened to his words. She wished for more of a straight forward answer, but was now well aware that this was not going to be happening any time soon. She surveyed him. She took in all of his features, remembering the past as she did so. True, Snow had not really known him, but she knew of him. She had also heard of his many horrible deed… But she did not care for such things. He was the one who warned her about the Evil Queen’s spell and he was the one who told them that Emma could break the curse. If he was truly malicious, then he would have let them suffer for eternity, but he did not.
A hand went to cup his face lightly, timidly. “I cannot say that I believe that this is evil, though we were sent here for a wicked purpose. I believed that Regina will lose. That she will regret all of this, if she hasn’t already. If you wish not to speak of the reason you created the curse, because I am very aware that you did, then I will respect your wishes. I will not press the issue. Just know that, towards you, I hold no ill will.”
The kind, heart-warming gesture had been unexpected on Gold’s part; of course he was painfully aware of how pure Snow was, of heart and soul, but forgiveness was the last sentiment he expected to receive from the lovely queen. What he had done had been a necessary evil in his eyes, but it was no doubt in his eyes alone; to everyone else it was an unforgivable deed. His brows furrowed in a slight frown of confusion and puzzlement as Snow’s soft fingers cupped the side of his face, the contact causing for a gentle warmth to spread across the surface of his sallow skin. His famed eloquence momentarily abated, compelling him to take a few moments to find his composure; but he did not recoil. He instead tilted his head to lean into the touch and his eyes narrowed slightly, enigmatic and cat-like, as he raised his defences; to let a gentle soul mellow him would do him no good, of that he was sure.
“Indeed didn’t I tell you she would lose, 28 years ago? Yes, I did make the curse. But I crafted it with the intention of it eventually leading to Regina’s defeat. Are you perhaps forgiving me for helping you achieve your happiness? Had things remained as they were back then, she would have found other ways to destroy you. “
“Try me. I happen to believe in fairytales.” the man replied softly, keeping his gaze steady on him. “They say that true love breaks any curse. As it turns out, it defies death itself.”
“Yeah it seems that is the case in my respect. Though it is not always enough.” Shadow relaxed himself around the other mans company and folded his arms. “I would not pick a man like you to believe in fairytales. Tell me Gold, what kind of man are you?”
“It’s a start. A second chance.” Gold raised an eyebrow, his thin lips stretching into a neutral smirk. “Appearances deceive, that we both know. You ask me what kind of man I am. There is neither an easy or short answer to that one. Let’s just say that I am a believer.”
“A believer. I see well that can’t be a bad thing can it.” Shadow said to reassure himself more than anyone. “And you live here in Storybrooke so you know about that curse thingy everyone talks about here?” He had been around, spoken to a few people. All of them told him the same thing. The town had been cursed and now they remembered.
“Not necessarily so. See, it all depends what you believe in.” the man explained cryptically, but did not expand on the notion; he nodded in response to the other’s question instead, raising an eyebrow in slight curiosity. Apparently news travelled fast. “Indeed, I do. Our saviour broke the curse. Do say, what else do you know concerning this topic?”
Emma looked up as she heard the familiar tap of his cane. She stood up from her desk as he made his way through the door way.
“Mr. Gold,” She nodded coolly, hiding her suspicion of why he was here the best that she could. “What can I do for you today?”
“Greetings, sheriff.” the man known as Mr. Gold offered a curt bow and a slight smirk, his voice smooth and unctuous as he slowly made his way over to the blonde, limping visibly with every step he took; there were days when the ache in his lame limb worsened inexplicably, and he found himself relying more heavily on his walking cane. “Actually, I am here to offer my services.”
- spinninggold started following you
“Well Well, I never expected you to show up on my doorstep, Mr.Gold.” He added with a small amount of sarcasm. “What brings you here?”
“Greetings, Jefferson.” the man replied with a cordial smile and a curt nod, seemingly ignoring the mild hostility displayed by the hatter of Storybrooke. “I’m here for business, of course. Do you have a few minutes to spare?”