#i might go more in-depth about this particular predicament of mine honestly

[1nfine77]

hhahahaha i disappeared again. woops.

scripting/worldbuilding wrt dr ramble under cut. no promises for this making any sense.

anyway - i've sat down and properly started getting to grips with my script, now that i'm done with exams, and the sheer amount of worldbuilding i want to do first is... oh boy.

shifting to a modded version of a video game universe, particularly mc in this case, is an... experience in trust when you leave it all alone, i want to say, because of how many mods do not integrate with one another. you'll get add-on mods and you'll get mods that acknowledge one another or will use one another's components, but in terms of the story or base mechanics of each mod, you tend to end up with a lot of disparate parts with their own separate and unrelated progressions and ways of dealing with base game things. in order to progress through two progression-based mods, you need to do them at the same time or else you'll be at end-game with one and then returning to square-zero in order to do anything with the other.

(better yet, you'll get mods with conflicting storylines or progressions, where trying to build a world where you focus on one will, on an in-game story level, lock you out of another, or where doing two mods at once will essentially mean you're tokyo drifting across what are essentially two very different belief systems without ever really trying to cohere them. which is whatever, but it does me in.)

or you'll get one mod completely overpowering another in terms of what it can achieve, and i want to level the playing field a bit and make some things more powerful and others less in order to counterbalance this a little. or at least have one be a natural progression of another, or have this one thing be useful in this case but in the general case, this other thing is preferred, etc etc.

and since i'm here with notion in front of me, i may as well grapple with the problem i have just noticed and shape a solution for it myself rather than leaving it up to chance.

(i also have like... ten separate 'magic systems'* i want to try to develop as different explanations for and beliefs surrounding the same or similar sets of phenomena**, each with their own key figures in their development, but... fuck, that's a task, i've realised lmao, especially because i am dealing, in the dr, with a truckload of forgotten and lost history due to the nature of the dr.)

i essentially need to deconstruct every single component of what makes up my dr and decide, on a case-by-case basis, whether to synthesise it with a previously unrelated part of a different component, dismiss it entirely (either because i don't like it or because it doesn't fit), treat it as its own phenomenon or adjust it so that it no longer leans on cr-related, and therefore dr-foreign, concepts.

and again - there is technically no need for me to fight with this. but i'm here and i may as well, and having the extra bit of knowledge of where i'm headed is likely going to help.

honestly my entire script sucks because of these... major oversights. sure, i have changed major mechanics on the way, which doesn't help, but then there's things like this that are genuine sandpaper to my brain. i visualise myself doing a specific thing in my dr and get taken completely out of it by the hard-clash of that thing and some other fucking thing from another fucking mod, both of which apparently sit comfortably in the same universe from which they both originated (anything that can be explained from 'idk it came from outer space/another dimension/etc.' is being left that way thanks).

this is a long-winded way to say that i may as well write a book at this point if i am going to be this fucking bent on logical consistency in a god damn fantasy setting. if i get too in the weeds with this and start going down the rabbit hole of conlangs, and then trying to make creole languages out of those conlangs, then i guess i better give up and admit i'm subconsciously trying to be tolkien.

*oh - and i finally realised, after four fucking years of being bent on the same exact dr, that no, the laws of physics and reality will be different there than they are here, and so what i am seeing as a magic system may well be equivalent in sense and rationality (with regards to explaining external phenomena) to. idk. physics. wards - as in, physical unopenable doors and literal invisible barriers - may well be as common and usual as fucking gravity, and it's my cr headspace - and the way these things are treated in the mod, honestly - that's making that complicated for me.

**i do have some 'magic systems' that touch on, like, specifically plants, or specifically astrology, that i can pretty much leave alone because they have their own... spheres of influence that other systems don't really interact with, but even with these i want some mutual acknowledgement.

[pamphletstoinspire]

Learning To Pray Takes Time And Practice Although we do not like to admit it, even to ourselves, we still believe that prayer happens suddenly, or never happens at all. We kid ourselves that saints are born or created by an arbitrary decision of God who every now and then suddenly decides to top up humanity’s quota. This is a comforting idea that we harbor at the back of our minds because it absolves us from any serious effort to live in union with God.

An Alcoholic: A Picture of Us All

The predicament of the alcoholic is but a dramatic ‘blown-up’ picture of  us all. The fact that our perilous plight is not so obviously dramatic is a mixed blessing. If it were, it would at least force us without undue delay to see ourselves stripped naked of all falsity and pretension to face stark reality. Then we would come to a moment of decision that we might otherwise cowardly evade, drifting into a life of superficiality, merely existing on the surface of human experience. Often when an alcoholic hits ‘rock bottom’, they become serious about changing their lives by surrendering and dedicating their lives to God through hard work, by practicing new habits.

A friend of mine made no secret of the fact that he was an alcoholic, although he had been ‘dry’ for five months. He was only twenty-six when I met him, but he had concertinaed the sufferings of a lifetime into a period of about five years. He had been through two marriages and was mixed up with a seedy set of degenerates who led him astray. In the end, he broke down under the strain of his lifestyle and took to the bottle. He used to drink between two and three bottles of whiskey a day. In desperation, he went to a local parish priest, who took him to Alcoholics Anonymous which he also attended. The leader of the centre told him there was nothing they could do for him until he reached ‘rock bottom’ and admitted to himself that he was an alcoholic, and absolutely helpless. Then they could step in and begin to help him to help himself. But, until he faced reality and made this admission, they could do nothing. The hardest part was waiting helplessly looking on until he reached the depths. He was given a pamphlet containing the twelve steps of recovering alcoholics. The first was to admit they were powerless to help themselves and their lives had become unmanageable. The second was to come to believe in a power greater than their own which could restore them to sanity. The third was to turn their lives over to God as they understood him. The other steps amplified these and emphasized the need to face up honestly to past faults and try  make amends to those they had caused so much suffering.

Space and Time For Prayer

There can be no fresh start, no renewal in the life of any individual, group or community unless we are able to see and admit our own inadequacy and past failures. Once we begin to see, to experience and to admit our weakness, then we can begin to appreciate the fundamental principle of the spiritual life, namely that we cannot go a single step forward without God. The Gospel does not say, ‘Without me, you will not be able to get very far.’ It says, ‘Without me, you can do nothing.’  Without me – nothing!

Which of us would belittle ourselves by going down on our knees to pray unless we are in need of help? Without the basic humility of the little child, we cannot even begin. This is why Jesus said it is as difficult for a rich man to enter into the Kingdom of God as it is for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle. Jesus is not just referring to the person with a fat wallet or a big bank balance; he means people who are rich in natural gifts and abilities too, the person with brains or flair, with administrative skills or business insight, with charm or artistic brilliance. None of these riches are evil in themselves – far from it – but they all have the same danger. They can so easily give us a false impression of our own strength, our own importance and personal competence. Who needs God when money will give me all I want? Who needs God’s help when I can do it myself? Riches of any sort obscure the fundamental vision that we are basically weak and incapable of achieving anything lasting or worthwhile without God. We are totally dependent on him for everything. If we do not see this, we are blind, and we will stumble around for a lifetime and never find the right road, never mind enter the Kingdom.

Recognizing our Own Weakness

The recognition of our own weakness is the only way we will come to feel our utter need of God’s help. Building a life of prayer means turning our lifestyle upside down if need be to find the necessary daily time for prayer. Prayer is not just a luxury for priests or religious, or people who happen to have spare time on their hands. It is an absolute necessity for everyone who wants to plunge themselves effectively into the mystery of Christ’s life, to be drawn into the endless ecstasy of life and love that unceasingly surges out of the Son towards the Father. We are filled to the measure of our weakness by the Father’s richness. The more we are filled with his fullness, the more we are lifted up out of ourselves in a self-forgetfulness that enables us to pray properly for the first time. The more we are tangibly immersed in the mystery of God’s love, the more we begin to see that all prayer leads to praise, to give glory to him and to lose ourselves in his inexhaustible goodness.

The trouble is we do not believe this, except as a purely academic principle of theology that we scandalously disregard in our lives. We beat our breasts with a sponge, reach for a  drink and nibbles, and slump down in front of the television. If we did believe it, then we would scream out for God’s help; we would go to him, find time to open ourselves to his healing power and urgently create space in our lives for prayer. The space and the time we find in our daily life is the practical sign of our sincere acceptance of our own weakness, and of our total belief in God’s power, which can alone help us. You might say you would like to be a concert pianist or speak fluent French or become a scratch golfer, but I will only believe you mean it when I see you practise for several hours a day. I will take you seriously when I see you hard at it, day after day on the piano, or studying French grammar, or tramping around the golf course. You would hardly meet a Christian, let alone a religious who would not say he or she desired to come closer to God, to become possessed by him and to build up a deeper prayer life. But how can this be believed until a person relentlessly practises prayer, day after day The desire is not enough, any more than are good intentions.

Learning to Pray needs Practice

Learning to pray, learning to open ourselves to God, is like anything else: it needs practice and it takes time. There is no accomplishment of any worth that I know of that you can attain merely by desiring to have it. We think nothing of spending hours a day and working for years to get a degree, pass an examination, or attain certain qualifications, and we quite rightly accept as a matter of course that the time we give and the energy we expend is necessary. Somehow we seem to think that prayer is an exception, but believe me, it is not. Those who wish to succeed in a particular accomplishment have to give hours of time, even if they have flair or genius. Arthur Rubinstein, the concert pianist was arguably the greatest pianist of the last century and yet at the age of eighty-four he admitted that he needed to practise for six hours a day. In his prime, he practised for nine! Although he was a musical genius at the age of three, it took a lifetime to master the techniques necessary to facilitate and maintain the growth of that genius and to enable him to share it with others on the concert platform. The same could be said of hundreds of great artists, performers, athletes and people from all walks of life who reach the top of their particular branch of human achievement. What right have we to imagine that prayer is an exception to the rule. We are supposed to be dedicated to the mastery of the art of arts and at best we drift aimlessly along like half-baked amateurs dabbling in something that demands the full potential of the professional.

The Oasis will become a Fountain

If we are only prepared to give the same daily time to prayer that would be required to reach a fairly reputable standard on the piano, then, in time, our lives will be dramatically and irrevocably changed. We may start with ten minutes a day and gradually extend that period as we master the preliminaries. But as the months go by, the period will gradually extend so that in the end the problem will be to restrain rather than prescribe a minimum time. If all goes well, the prayer that starts and develops at set times ought to  gradually filter through into the rest of the day. In the end, it will become co-­extensive with all and everything we do. To begin with, the prayer period will be like a desert, dry, arid and barren. But it will eventually become an oasis in our lives that we cannot do without. However, that is not the end. It is only the beginning. In the end, the oasis will become a fountain that will well up and brim over to irrigate the whole of our lives, as  ‘the prayer without ceasing’ transforms our daily spiritual lives enabling us to say with him, ‘It is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me’.

DAVID TORKINGTON

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: What Comes After (8/?)

Summary: Dead Like Me AU. After Belle French loses her life in an accident, she finds out that she has been recruited to join the ranks of the Grim Reapers, helping souls pass on. It’s a huge upheaval to deal with, but her fellow reapers are there to help her out, especially head reaper Gold.

Who says you can’t find love after life?

Rated: T

[One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five] [Six] [Seven] [AO3]

====

What Comes After

Eight

The animal shelter was short-staffed at the moment, so it wasn’t unusual for David to come to the daily post-it handover later or earlier than everyone else. Today, Gold was quite grateful for the delay as it meant everyone else, including Belle, had already gone, and Gold was alone in their booth for the rather delicate chain of inquiry that he was about to undertake.

As much as he loved Ella as a dear friend, this was probably something that would be best followed up with someone who was somewhat younger than both himself and Ella and therefore a lot more with the times. David was really the best person available to understand his predicament.

“Hi Gold, sorry I’m late. I can never seem to make the shifts work out right these days, especially trying to get reaps in around them.”

Gold waved David’s apologies away as the younger man slid into the booth opposite him. “It’s quite all right, David. My shop will wait for me. Your life can’t wait for you. Well, sort-of life.”

David snorted. “Yeah, it doesn’t sound quite as impressive when you put it like that.” He grabbed the post-it that Gold held out to him and checked his watch, relieved when he saw that there was plenty of time before he would have to go out and find his reap. Granny brought over coffee and Gold took a refill as David got his breath back.

“I’m actually quite glad to get you alone, David,” Gold began, really wishing that he knew exactly where he was going with the conversation and what all David’s answers would be before he said them, but then that sort of undermined the need for having a conversation in the first place.

David raised an eyebrow. “Am I in trouble?”

“What? No, of course not. Don’t trust anything that Ella tells you about getting in trouble.” Although he had been dead for four years and had been on Gold’s team for two years, David was still considered the sweet young newbie by the rest of the crew; or at least he had been up until Belle’s arrival. He was probably quite glad that a new recruit had joined in order to get the yoke of ‘youngest and most inexperienced’ off his shoulders once and for all. Ella in particular had taken great delight in teasing him when he had first transferred over to Storybrooke, in a way that she couldn’t really keep up with Belle.

“No,” Gold continued. “No, I just wanted to… ask your advice.”

Asking for help was not something that Gold had done lightly. Considering the start that he had got in life and how his own life had ended, he had spent the vast majority of his death viewing asking for help as a kind of weakness that he was determined not to fall prey to anymore. Accepting that he needed advice was a huge step, and actually asking for it was an even bigger one.

David grinned. “Are you finally going to ask Belle out and you’re looking for tips on modern courtship methods?”

Gold looked up, completely agape. That was exactly what he had been about to ask, but how had David managed to figure it out?

“What? Yes! No! Possibly! How did you...?”

David shrugged. “It’s pretty obvious that you like her, Gold, and that the feelings are reciprocated. We’re all surprised that you haven’t made a move sooner if I’m being honest with you. You spend a lot of time alone together in that shop. Had it honestly never occurred to you to just follow that up with asking her out to dinner? Or maybe just going for coffee if you’re not ready to commit to an entire meal with each other yet. Although considering the amount of time we all spend here eating together, maybe that’s not the best idea.”

Gold felt his shoulders sag. “I feel like everyone around the table has just as much of a stake in my romantic life as I do.”

“Of course.” David reached across and slapped Gold’s shoulder. “You’re our boss. We need you to be bright and chipper and full of the joys of spring or you can make our lives hell, and it’s a hell we’ll have to deal with for a long time.”

“I honestly don’t know where my reputation for being a vindictive head reaper has come from,” Gold muttered. “I’m going to have to have words with Ella. I can’t be doing with her spreading rumours about me to new recruits.”

“Well, I think that if she has been spreading rumours, they haven’t reached Belle yet. She certainly enjoys spending time with you, so I don’t think that she’d be averse to spending more time with you in a date scenario.”

Gold sighed. “I think I’m a bit too old to be going on dates.”

“Gold, please, you’re way too old to be doing anything. You’re over a hundred; by the law of averages you should be on a Zimmer frame having your waffles fed to you through a straw, so I think you’re doing very well. Come on. You like Belle and she obviously likes you even if you’re the only one around the table who can’t see it. I don’t think you’ve got anything to lose.”

“Are you sure?”

“Very sure.”

“I don’t know how dating works.”

David spread his hands. “That’s why you wanted to speak to me, wasn’t it?”

Gold nodded. “Just so you know, I’m already feeling completely out of my depth here and I’m trying not to make it any more awkward than it already is.”

“This isn’t awkward,” David said. “I’m always happy to help a friend find love. You’ve waited long enough for it, I can tell you that and I’ve only known you for two years.”

“Thank you, David.” Gold drained his coffee and decided against getting another one for fear of being completely buzzed on caffeine when he did meet Belle in the shop later. Although he wouldn’t suffer the terrible crash later, he could still feel the effects whilst they were working, like with alcohol. “So… What do you advise?”

“Be honest with her,” David said simply. “Don’t try and be someone that you’re not. You two spend a lot of time together so she’s getting to know you as a person. Don’t try and pretend that you’re not the man in the antique shop. That’s the man she’s getting to know and to be attracted to. If you take her out and suddenly put on a different face, not only is she not going to buy it, but she’s going to think that there’s something seriously wrong with you.”

“But the person I am in the shop is…”

“Is…” David prompted.

“Boring,” Gold finished lamely.

David sighed and rolled his eyes. “Gold, do you seriously think that Belle would spend so much time in your shop if she found you boring.”

“Well, the shop’s not boring; it’s got lots of very interesting things to talk about in it. When you take me out of the shop, then it’s just me.”

“Gold, you’re not boring and when you’re a reaper age goes by the wayside, so you’re not old either. Belle is not going to suddenly stop finding you attractive or interesting if you take her out on a date.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“I am right, there’s no supposing about it.”

Gold laughed at the vehemence in David’s tone. “You’ve been taking lessons in assertiveness from Ella.”

“You know what they say: you have to learn from the best.”

Gold pondered David’s advice for a while. Just to be himself. That was all very well and good, but there were some points where Gold didn’t really know who he was himself. He had been around for so long and had gone through so many fake identities that it was easy to lose sight of the Alistair Gold that he had been all those years before, back when he had still been alive.

It was when he was with Belle that he felt the most like himself, to the extent where he had given her his first name and she regularly called him by it. His real first name wasn’t something that he gave out to anyone with any degree of regularity, and yet he had given it to Belle having only known her for about a week.

Some might say that was a sign of trust, and Gold knew that it was, but the fact that he had been able to give that trust so freely and openly worried him. He had been hurt before by people whom he had placed so much trust in, and like anyone who had been hurt, he was scared of it happening again. Ella had commented in the past that he never liked to get too close to people even though it was obvious that he cared deeply about them.

“Gold, I honestly think that you might have a chance at real, lasting happiness here,” David said. “Believe me. I know what it’s like to have that and to see it slip through your fingers. Grab it with both hands whilst you can, don’t let go of it. If it turns out not to be, then it’s not to be, but don’t let the opportunity pass you by. I can speak from experience here; you don’t want to do that.”

Gold sat back and looked at the man in front of him.

“You’re such an inherently good person, David, that after everything you’ve been through, you still want the best for everyone else. I don’t think that I could ever be that strong.”

David shrugged and looked out of the window, not really meeting Gold’s eye as he spoke again.

“I’m past being bitter about it all,” he said. “I know what it’s like to be unhappy and it’s not something that I would wish on anybody. I’m not one of these people who say that if they can’t be happy then no-one can be happy. There’s not a lot of use in that and it wouldn’t make me feel any better. Negativity’s like a leech. It’s draining, and it multiplies, and it doesn’t get anywhere. Everyone deserves to find their own happiness and I like to think that I’ll find mine again one day. In the meantime, I’ll just help everyone else on their way.”

Gold would never fail to be amazed at David’s selflessness and willingness to help, especially after the circumstances that had led him to Storybrooke in the first place.

“Have you been in contact with any of the California teams recently?” Gold asked.

David shook his head. “No. I find it easier not to know what’s happening down there. I’d rather not know, so that I can pretend that everything’s all right and that nothing bad ever goes on. I’d rather believe that they were happy than know that they’ve got other issues going on and be unable to help.” He paused. “Emma turns sixteen in two months.”

Gold gave David a sad smile.

“You can’t go back,” he said. “You don’t want to get in trouble with the powers that be again. They’ll only reassign you again, and probably put you somewhere even further away.”

“I know. It’s just difficult. I mean, we all leave people behind when we die, but any parent just wants to watch their kids grow up.”

Gold nodded. “I know exactly how you feel.”

Despite the vast differences in their ages and the circumstances of their deaths, Gold had found a kindred spirit in David from the moment that the powers that be had sent word that he would be transferring from California to Storybrooke to prevent what they called ‘meddling’ and what Gold called ‘desperate self-preservation’.

Both Gold and David were fathers who had been separated from their children long before their time and would never get to see them grow up and start families of their own. The impulse to hang around and try to be a part of their lives after death was a strong one; one that David had failed to resist on more than one occasion. He had been lucky enough not to have been caught by the living authorities whilst hanging around his daughter’s school, but the reaping superiors out wherever they were had decided that it was too risky, and that physical separation was the only way to make sure that David did not get himself into trouble.

Gold knew how much David missed his family and could sympathise completely.

“I want to do something for her,” David said. “I know I can’t go and see her, but I want to send her something to let her know that I’m still thinking of her and I still love her. Some kind of sign to let her know that although I’ve gone, it’s not forever. People talk about receiving signs from beyond the grave from their loved ones all the time, and it’s only since I’ve become a reaper that I’ve realised that it was probably reapers trying to communicate with their families.”

Gold nodded. “I think that could probably be arranged and the powers that be would be none the wiser.”

David raised an eyebrow. “Gold, you’re the one who’s always reiterating the importance of not having any contact with your old life.”

“I know, but people rarely listen to me, and this isn’t the same as hanging around outside your old house like a creeper. There’s a difference between trying to get your old life back as if nothing’s changed and accepting that things have changed and working with it. That’s the problem that Belle had when she first joined us. She was trying to live her old life.” Gold’s voice was sage and knowing. “So were you.”

“I guess you’re right.” David paused and held his cup out for a refill as Granny came past again; Gold declined. “I found a great card the other day. It had ducklings on it. I always used to call her duckling. I was thinking about getting it and sending it to her. Not signed, just empty. But she’d know it was from me, because of the ducklings.”

Gold nodded. “I would say that’s harmless enough. Contrary to popular belief I’m not a grumpy curmudgeon wishing to suck the joy out of everyone’s afterlife all the time.”

David just laughed. “Gold, I have never thought that you want to suck the joy out of everyone’s afterlife all the time. Maybe fifty per cent of the time.”

“Only fifty per cent?” Gold shook his head, tutting. “I must try harder. I have a reputation to maintain here.”

“That reputation has long since been ruined. We all know that you’re a softie on the inside.” David tucked his post-it into his jeans pocket. “I’m going to stay here a while and get some breakfast. You’ll want to get on, Belle will be finishing her post round soon and three to one says she comes over to the shop.”

“Yes.” Gold wasn’t sure that this was a good thing or not. Whilst his conversation with David had helped him somewhat, he still wasn’t one hundred per cent sure that what he was doing was a good idea in the long run. Some experiences cast long shadows and Gold’s marriage was one of them. On his one hundredth wedding anniversary he was reaping a particularly nasty car accident and he realised with grim irony just how much the wreck reflected his life with Milah.

At least everyone in the car wreck had got to move on to a bright new afterlife together with their loved ones. Gold was stuck remembering everything that had gone wrong between him and Milah for what felt like the rest of time.

Naturally, he was somewhat sceptical of his success with Belle, being as she was from a completely different time period.

“Just be yourself,” David said as Gold slid out of the booth and made to leave the diner. “That’s what she wants.”

“Are you sure?”

“Very sure, now just get going and ask her out before the rest of us resort to middle school tactics and ask her out on your behalf.”

It couldn’t be spun out any longer, and Gold left David to his breakfast, going back in the direction of the pawn shop. It was a rare sunny day in Storybrooke, although still bitterly cold with the early spring weather. His reap wasn’t until the afternoon, so there would be plenty of time to overthink asking Belle out and make a complete mess of it before then.  

Despite David’s words it was still too early for Belle to be arriving at the shop, and Gold was left alone with his thoughts as he opened up and began to wait for custom. The shop wasn’t the most lucrative of businesses and if Gold hadn’t had independent means from several lucrative investments that Ella had helped him set up back in the fifties, then he would probably have had to close down, but it provided a good front for reaping and the necessary forgery that went with the afterlife, and it helped him to keep abreast of what was happening in the world of the living. He wouldn’t call it eavesdropping per se, but he did hear a lot of interesting things when people were in the shop and had forgotten that he was there, standing quietly behind the counter, observing life as he did.

On darker days, he wondered how many of them he would reap before his time on the earth was done and how many of them would realise that it was him.

The bell above the shop door rang and Gold looked up from the candelabra that he was polishing to see Henry Mills coming in. Gold smiled; he liked Henry. The boy had been coming into the shop ever since he was old enough to be running around unsupervised, and he had just as much fascination for all of the antiques as Belle did, wanting to know all of the stories behind them. The difference was that Gold told Belle exactly how he had acquired the items personally throughout the years, whereas to Henry, the tales were always attributed to distant relatives.

“Hi Mr Gold,” Henry said brightly. “Have you got anything new in today?”

“Not since you were last here, I’m afraid. Shouldn’t you be in school, Henry?”

“It’s closed; apparently there was a sewage leak in the playground.” Henry wrinkled his nose. “Anyway, Mom’s working so I thought I’d come and hang out here for a while. If that’s ok with you, of course,” he added hastily.

“You’re always welcome here, Henry. You can help me with the dusting.”

Henry accepted the cleaning cloth with good grace and began work on the picture frames on one wall.

“So, are you seeing that pretty post lady again?” he asked, completely out of the blue, and Gold did a double take.

“I beg your pardon?”

“The post lady! I’ve seen her coming out just as I’m coming in, we say hi on the street outside. I know that she can’t just be delivering the mail because mail gets delivered in the morning and she’s sometimes here in an afternoon. And also I can’t believe that you get that much mail delivered here and not to your house.”

Gold sighed, leaning back heavily against the counter. If even Henry had noticed the frequency of Belle’s visits, then something was probably going to have to be done.

“I think she likes you,” Henry continued. “She’s always smiling whenever I see her so I reckon she must enjoy spending time with you.”

Gold nodded carefully. “That’s a reasonable assumption to make based on the evidence,” he said. “I enjoy spending time with her, too.”

“So, are you dating?”

“Henry, I think you’re taking far too much interest in this.”

“Well, you know. Mom always says that she thinks you must be kind of lonely, out here with only your antiques for company. It would be good if you had someone special. When I told her about the post lady she practically cheered.”

Gold took that statement with a pinch of salt. Whilst he and Regina Mills were cordial acquaintances as a result of Henry’s frequent visits to the shop, he really didn’t think that she could be that invested in his happiness. The extent of their interaction was limited to trusting that Gold had no ill intentions towards Henry and could be employed as a makeshift babysitter.

“I highly doubt that, Henry.”

“Ok, so she didn’t cheer, but she was definitely interested.”

Gold just narrowed his eyes. “Those picture frames won’t dust themselves, you know,” he muttered. “Once you’ve finished on them, you can start on the teapots over in that display cabinet.”

They worked in silence for a while, although Henry’s smile told Gold that the thought was still on his mind, but soon Gold was absorbed in his restoration work and he was startled when Belle walked in.

“Hi Alistair… Oh, hello.”

“Lacey, this is Henry, the mayor’s son and a friend of mine. Henry, this is Lacey.”

“Pleased to meet you, Henry.”

As Henry and Belle shook hands, Henry looked at Belle through narrowed eyes, as if he was trying to place her. There was the flicker of recognition, but if he was going to say something, then he thought better of it. Gold let out the breath that he didn’t know that he had been holding. It wasn’t the first time that he had thought there was something about Henry’s perception when it came to reapers, and Belle would be the first he had met whom he might possibly recognise from her previous life.

“Well, I should probably go,” Henry said, and the fact that he was grinning like the Cheshire Cat made it obvious that he was leaving them alone together. “I’ll see you around, Mr Gold.”

Belle watched him go and smiled. “He seems like a good kid.”

“He is. Too clever for his own good, I think. Would you like some tea?”

“Yes please. It’s freezing out there, not at all the weather for delivering post on a bike.”

Gold stepped back to allow her into the back of the shop, and once the tea was made, Belle accepted the mug gratefully. They drank in silence for a little while, but the expectation of something being said was screaming in the air between them.

“Belle, I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Gold began, at the same time as Belle said “Alistair, can I ask you something.”

“You go on,” she said.

“Would you like to maybe go out some time?” Gold asked. God, he sounded terrible, this was definitely not the smooth process he’d hoped it would be. “For lunch, or dinner, or… something.”

To his immense surprise and immensurate relief, Belle just broke into a luminous smile.

“I was going to ask you exactly the same thing,” she said. “I would love to.”

“You would?”

“I really would.” Belle was beaming with excitement. “How about that new Thai place that’s opened up around the corner from Marco’s?”

“That sounds great.”

“Tonight?”

“Even better.”

Gold knew how much he must be grinning like a lunatic, but he didn’t care. In the end, taking a chance had paid off. He had a date with Belle.