There was a girl in Emma Swan's kitchen.

No, scratch that: there was a very polite Australian girl in Emma Swan's kitchen. Holding out a plate of pancakes and looking eerily at home standing there by the stove, even though she seemed to be wearing nothing more than an oversized T-shirt.

Oversized.

She must have been one of Killian's.

Emma accepted the plate with a mumbled thanks, and went over and sat at the counter where she could keep the girl in her line of sight. The girl who was now humming under her breath as she stirred up some more pancake batter, not a care in the world.

Sure, she could've been one of Ruby's. But she was on a cleanse this month, or so she said. More like she was still licking her wounds over what had gone down with Dorothy during the World's Most Awkward Non-Refundable Holiday. But still.

That just left the other roommate. The scruffier one.

Jesus.

Emma had always figured Killian knew how to show his one night stands a good time (for better or worse they did share an adjoining wall, after all), but this was something else. This wasn't an awkward hello in the hallway on the way to the bathroom with some faceless redhead.

This girl looked about ready to move in.

Before Emma could think back to any of her tried and true methods for removing unwanted squatters, the roommate in question appeared, freshly showered and still apparently allergic to fastening buttons above his navel.

But Killian didn't catch her eye. And he didn't look the least bit perturbed to see last night's conquest standing in their kitchen, cooking up a storm. On the contrary, he stopped beside her and took away her skillet, apparently eager to pick back up where they left off.

That is, until Emma pointedly cleared her throat.

He had the good grace to look guilty. As well he should. After what they'd come to call The Yoga Instructor Incident, there'd been a strict moratorium on amorous encounters in shared spaces. No one was ready to throw away another couch so soon.

"Swan!" he exclaimed, his voice a little too pitchy to completely hide his embarrassment. "I see you've met Belle."

Belle.

So not a hello-in-the-hallway girl at all, but a legitimate prospect. With a name.

"It's lovely to meet you, Emma," the girl said, still hanging on Killian's arm.

And lovely manners.

"Pleasure," Emma replied, stuffing another forkful of pancake into her mouth to prevent further conversation.

They were really good pancakes too. Fluffy, with just the right amount of syrup.

Fuck. How was she supposed to hate this girl now?