New Arrival (OPEN)

There were a number of people in the diner; more than had ever frequented the Coffee Mug when she was working at that greasy spoon, granted they never had more than the few mechanics and gas station workers there regularly. The place had been a dive, but it was discreet, off the beaten path, and, most importantly, paid cash. It had allowed Lily to live off the grid for several years. Now, however, she was in Storybrooke, the only place she'd dreamed of for the past fourteen years. I wonder if it will live up to my fantasies, she thought, though she knew without a doubt that she would be disappointed.

Her eyes met with a guy sitting at a table, his feet propped up and looking, for all the world, like a contented cat. He gave her a playful half smile before taking a sip of his drink, and, imagining him with a cowboy hat tipped low over his eyes, she couldn't help but smirk back. He was cute; blue-gray eyes, just a touch of scruff, and a bad boy persona. Lily had always been attracted to that kind of guy, and, for a moment, considered propositioning him. She frowned, though, when she remembered exactly where she was. Only in Storybrooke would she accidentally end up sleeping with her worst enemy. After all, no one had aged here in over twenty eight years. The idea was skeevy, and she shuddered. 

She turned back to the counter. If she thought every storybook character was hot, she was never going to get anywhere. Plus, with her pension of making bad decisions, it was better, overall, to avoid romantic encounters. He might know where to find Snow White, though, she reasoned. That would make her life easier. Besides, she rationalized, the odds of me finding one of the two people on my hit list my first hour in town have got to be astronomical. Right? Putting in her order with the guy behind the counter, Lily slid off her stool and over to the seat adjacent Mr. Cowboy.


"Hi there," she said, her Good Girl mask firmly in place. She smiled charmingly. "I'm Lily."

He didn't change his posture, despite the fact that she sat down in front of him. The image of the idle cowboy popped briefly into her mind again, but she quickly shook it off. Now was not the time to indulge in flights of fancy. Ironic, given the situation her life had become. Still, at least his boots were clean; she could ignore them, if she tried.

The Spanish greeting threw her for a moment, but her Good Girl mask held up while she recovered. Interesting, she thought. Tilting her head coquettishly, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and spoke quietly. "I'm new here," she explained. "I'm doing some research and was wondering where I might find the library, or any information on the history of Storybrooke." It was a reasonable story, right? To fortify the lie a bit more, she added enthusiastically, "It's so beautiful here. Surely it has to have an amazing story of its own. I can't wait to know more."

So maybe it wasn't the best story she could come up with, but it was at least partially true. Over the years, while doing research into the location of Storybrooke, Lily had wondered about the story the Evil Queen had come up with to explain the town's actual existence. Even after fourteen years of pondering it, the idea that anyone could rip an entire land from one dimension to another was fascinating. Too bad it had consumed her life to such an extreme extent, or Lily might have actually been able to make something of herself. She snickered inwardly at the notion that her life would ever be anything but miserable; her hatred of Snow White and Prince Charming were the only things keeping her going, and she knew it.

Which brought her back to Stetson. She needed answers, but was reluctant to just blatantly ask if he was Prince Charming. It might send up red flags and alert him to her nefarious intent. After all, even if he wasn't Prince C, he might be one of his buddies and inform him that some crazy new girl was here to kill him and his wife. That would not be good.

He was buying her act. Good. That made it easier.

But the name he gave, Lacey, didn't ring any bells, as far as fairy tale characters went. Maybe the Goose Girl's name had been Lacey? She tried to think back, but the name sounded too...modern. Still, if this Lacey ran the library in town, it might be worth a meeting. If nothing else, maybe she could get a job shelving books. Beat the hell out of bussing tables, which, no offense to the diner workers, Lily was so done with. Besides, she still enjoyed reading; it was a good escaped, if only for a little while. Her Good Girl mask slipped a bit as Lily remembered the lonely nights that hadn't been quite so lonely when she was reading.

Shaking off the melancholy by reminding herself that it would all be over soon, Lily smiled at Stetson again. "Lacey, huh?" She nodded. "Seems like I should ask her, then, maybe." She smiled sweetly at him. "Any chance you could point me in the direction of said library after I finish my lunch?"

He certainly flipped a switch. Bad boy to charmer in about half a second; if she'd blinked, Lily was sure she would have thought he was another person entirely. But he was flirting with her, at least, which meant he found her attractive; hard to believe, since she was travel worn and frumpled. Had it not been for her jacket, he would have noticed grease stains on her shirt, too, but thank the gods for small mercies. It was flattering, though, if she were honest. Every girl liked to be noticed. She grinned.

Focus, girl! she reminded herself. Fairy tale land, remember? He could be your mortal enemy! Hell, he could be my father. That thought killed the butterflies in an instant, and Lily coughed into her sleeve to have time to recompose herself. Shaking her head, she dropped her Good Girl mask and said softly, "Just directions to the library, thanks.

She would have gotten up, but she heard a ding. Next thing she knew, a spunky girl was brandishing a plate of grilled cheese and fries at her. Lily took the food automatically, muttering a quiet "Thanks" to the waitress.

Lily was just about to start chowing down on her lunch (she hadn't eaten in nearly twenty four hours) when Stetson stood up and stepped around to her chair. He pulled it out, and Lily's adrenaline spiked. What was he doing? Was he mad at her for shutting him down? Wasn't actually his fault, not that she was going to tell him that; girl had to protect herself in some way, right? But he was too close. When he whispered in her ear, she shivered a bit, but not exactly from good feelings. More fear, flashbacks, and just plain yuckiness involving the thought of this guy being her biological sire. The idea was fresh and creepy.

Her reflexes weren't as up to par as they should have been, so it took her half a moment to shift her chair away from him. "Whoa there, Boots," she said, holding up a hand. She chuckled nervously. "I'm fine. Really." She had to keep her thoughts focused and on the mission.

She eyed him suspiciously, but as he backed off, she relaxed her guard a bit. He might not be a scumbag; this was Fairy Tale Land, after all. There was more than a decent chance this handsome man in boots could be a sincerely (Lily's eye twitched at the descriptor) charming guy. But, if she were going with past precedents, he would lead her into a world of trouble. Better to cut her losses now and make a clean break.

Still, he was offering to pay for her lunch, and her growling stomach and empty pockets demanded she accept. She would just have to hope that, since Emma was nearby, her luck would change for the better. Being near her "soul sister", as Lily referred to Emma in her head, always seemed to lessen the crapload that life enjoyed dumping on her; hopefully, that would still be the case in Storybrooke.

Sighing, she gave a half hearted smile. "Sorry," she replied. "I just don't do well with people in my space." That, at least, was not a lie. Lily had boundary issues; as in 'Invade my space twice and lose a finger' type issues. To be fair, she'd never actually succeeded in cutting off a finger, but she had tried several times. Instincts, she assured herself.

It was unusual, though, for people to show a positive interest in her. Most 'good' people saw what she wanted them to see: a lonely/sad/introverted/angry individual not unlike a surly bear. She didn't sleep much, and the creases under her eyes attested to it. Her hair, while always clean, was never in any style other than loose or swept up into a messy bun; sometimes, if she were particularly daring, she would braid it, but only in a typical plait. Frumpled, often stained and ripped, clothing made up her wardrobe in its entirety, and she could carry every article she owned in a duffle bag with room enough for her books and stolen laptop. She didn't have much in her life, and she was tired of just managing to scrape by. If she was going to survive this life, she had to start trusting that not everyone was out to screw her; and the only obstacle standing in her way was her past.

Looking up at the cowboy, she smiled. "I would be delighted to share a meal with you on one condition," she said. "You have to tell me your name."