like, zoinks.

[carjacked]

Who: Neal & Hook
When: 03/19
Where: Hook's room.
What: Wow ghosts are assholes right?

At first, he thought he was goin' crazy. Cabin fever, maybe, for a guy who's used to moving from one place to another at the drop of a hat. Maybe all the sodium in the breakfast food's messing with his head, or maybe... maybe something, anything but the possibility that it was real. It started as glimpses in the mirror, as blurry possibilities disappearing around the corner as he topped off the stairs.

Tamara.

As the days went on, it only got worse. She'd show up, blatantly show up, stand there. Stare at him judgmentally, or cruelly, or with amusement on her features. Wouldn't talk to him, wouldn't answer his questions or his demands when he finally snapped. The posts popping up on his tablet suggest it isn't exactly a rarity for the motel population today, but he seriously doubts most of them have as complicated a history with their ghost as he does.

He's cracking up, and he's gotta talk about it with someone. Not Emma, because talking to your... ex... something about your other ex something when you barely acknowledge the elephant in the room in the first place just ain't something he's interested in doing. His next best option may not be much less weird, but he's sorta on a short supply for friends here.

So after a particularly bad episode of seeing the past, he's out his door and speed-walking toward a one-handed pirate. The knock on Hook's door is urgent, impatient, and he shifts on his toes every second it takes the guy to answer.

Comments

[carjacked]

The sad fact of the matter is Killian knew his mother far better than he ever got the chance to, so it really wouldn't do any good to try and protest Hook's assessment on her favor after all they've been through. They both know he doesn't have any real authority on the matter, and he can't testify otherwise just by virtue of being her son. Hell, for all he knows Milah had been a cold, judgemental woman. He strongly suspects otherwise, all the stories he's heard have said the clear opposite, but he can't say for sure.

What he does know, however, is that the guilt Hook harbors in his heart about everything that happened is clear and real, as apparent as the wallpaper around them, and it's mollifying. His eyes drop with quiet solemnity, accepting that Hook feels like he's got a lot in his past to regret and not bothering to argue against that. The thing is, though, Neal isn't exactly innocent either. He's hurt people, he's- damn, he's hurt the people that matter the most in the world to him, even if he was never an outright villain. He can understand, though, the irredeemable feeling someone can harbor when they don't get to attone the way they'd like. When they can never really get the outcome they'd hope for and erase their mistakes.

He might still carry a grudge about a few things in his past, but he's not angry about it, not vindictive, not a revenge-driven guy, and seeing Hook suffer through it all doesn't hold any appeal to Baelfire. He knows nothing he can say will put a dent in it either, and they can go around in circles all day about who should let go of what, it won't get them anywhere. The most helpful thing he could possibly do right now is change the subject entirely, so he leans over, shifting a little until he can nudge Killian's shoulder with his own. A gentle, pointed sort of gesture.

"Hey, you think that Cashmere girl ever got around to perfecting her booze recipe? I got a couple favors I can call in with her."

[villainously]

He's probably right. They could take turns claiming to be the worst person in the room (and honestly, Neal was never going to win that battle, no matter how guilty he felt about how some things in his life had turned out), and never manage to really resolve it. It was a good choice, to move on after offering something that Hook did hear... he just can't quite accept it. It was a little like being told the sky was green. As much as he wanted to believe it, he knew the truth.

Suggesting they change gears to questionable alcohol might not have been the wisest of calls... yet right about now, with ghosts in the halls? He'd never wanted a drink more. And that was saying something, considering the alcoholic had been wanting a bloody drink about the same time he'd completely dried out. The hotel had weened him off with cruel efficiency, enough to keep him from getting ill but there was nothing to keep him from the feverish desire for a drink. Like that might fix what ailed him.

"I got her some things for it, couldn't say if she managed a brew." It wouldn't be the most favorable tasting thing in the world, but it might be worth a shot right about now. Hook takes the swing in conversation completely, lifting a brow. "She owes you a favor, does she?" He didn't think Cashmere was the sort to offer those lightly, it made him a little curious. Maybe they could discuss that, instead of the ghosts they couldn't help or soothe. It wouldn't change anything, granted, but a fleeting escape was better than none at all.