It is that distant, not even a, smile curving Emma's mouth. A half turn that looks more lost than found, forced than free, entirely unreal.

"That wouldn't surprise me. He seemed..." Something she had no word for yet. "Different, when I bumped into him."

Lost, and Found, too.


Mary Margaret was not quite leaning on the counter where the sink was, drinking a little more of the water that was mostly being held and perspiring on her hand. Far more carefully, she asked, "Are you?"