"That's so weird."

"I know."

"Like weird weird."

"I know."

Both of them are too fascinated by the situation to notice they sound like a broken record – in any other moment, one would have made fun of the other long ago. They just keep staring at it, eyes wide and mouth open. Emma's fingers run on his skin, making him shiver at the tickling touch, as she turns and return the hand in hers, like she can't believe it to be true, like she needs to keep a physical contact between them to believe it. He flexes his fingers, as to prove everything works perfectly, bringing another "so weird" to her lips. She frowns, obviously still confused, as she pokes his palm, and it has at least the merit of making him chuckle a bit.

"And he asked you nothing in return? No 'magic always comes with a price' bullshit?"

"No. He just said it was for bringing his son back alive and then just… poofed it back."

"So weird."

"Stop saying that."

But she simply can't because it's a hand! Gold just magically attached a hand back to its arm, functioning and all. Emma has been near magic for quite some time by now, has magic in her, but that… that's just too much. That's a thing of science fiction, not of fairytales, and her mind can't wrap around the idea that the pirate has his hand back like nothing ever happened, like it wasn't cut from the wrist centuries ago. She needs a break because this, whatever it is, is a thing of nightmare, not magic. (And then she remembers the most qualified doctor in town is Victor Frankenstein and she just wants to drink herself to oblivion.) She brushes her fingers against his knuckles, looking for the trick, but nothing comes. Not even when she traces the thin white scar around his wrist, and he chuckles lightly, obviously making fun of her.

"Imagine all the things you can do now that you have your hand back!" When he doesn't answer, her eyes travel from his hand to his face, only to find him raising an eyebrow in a very provocative way, leaving no doubt to the thought he holds right now, to the innuendo ready to escape his lips. "Oh, shut up!"

He only laughs as a reply, taking back his hand to grab the glass next to him and take a long deliberate sip. She can't stop staring at the hand, which makes him smirk. He does in on purpose then, playing with the saltshaker, taping his index against the bar counter in rhythm with the music, scratching his nose. Her eyes never leave him, and the insufferable smirk only grows bigger.

"Obsession much, Swan?"

She shakes her head and looks back at his face with a small smile of hers. "Looks like we'll need to find you a new nickname then."

"Or, you know, we could use my name, for a change." She raises an eyebrow at him. "Because I do have a name, you know."

"I'm aware of that, Killian."

The smug smirk turns into something else, softer and more honest. He raises his hands – both his hands – to her face, fingers brushing her cheeks, and for a moment she believes him to be bold enough to lean and kiss her. But Killian would never do such a thing, no without her permission, that much she knows. Instead, he toys with her hair, wrapping a long strand around his finger before putting it behind her ear. He can't keep his hand to himself now that he's started, brushing his knuckles against he cheekbones, tapping her nose (she twitches it in a rabbit and he laughs), playing with her hair again. They barely register Ruby's loud sigh, telling them to get a room, seriously, like right now.