<div style="text-align: center"><b><u>Tiger Lily</u></b><br/>
<i>Starstruck on the Wright</i>​</div><br/>So Captain Hook thought this was some sort of trickery.  One eyebrow lifted, the corner of her mouth twitched, but the woman with the crow painted across her face said nothing.  A hide-clad foot then the other floated down from the step outside the door to land silently on the sidewalk.  Her gaze dropped down to the pistol in his hand before lifting to stare down the street, her eyes shining out from the dark paint that covered a large portion of her face.  It did not seem wise to dash headlong through the streets brandishing a weapon but convincing a stubborn pirate to give up his sidearm could be as tiring as trying to get water from a stone.<br/><br/>Hook was angry, she could tell by the way he snapped at her but again her only response was the slightest upward tug at the corner of her mouth.  He had been short with her before, and he would be short with her again, but his temper had never rushed her into action, and it would not do so now.  There was a plan written in the stars for each and every one of them.  Regardless of speed, their feet had been set on a path and they were already marching toward their inevitable fate.<br/><br/>She turned to face her companion, lifting her chin and looking up into his scarred face.  They were close enough to touch yet no parts of them made physical contact.  “The decision for what happens next is up to you.  Do we seek out Wendy or do we try to find Peter Pan?  What does it say in here?” Two fingers tapped his chest over his heart.  “Or here?” The same two fingers moved upward and hovered over his temple for a handful of heartbeats but only one of them gave the suggestion of touch as it followed the curved line of his scar.<br/><br/><hr class="bbc-hr bbc-hr--3"/><br/><div style="text-align: center"><b><u>Tinkerbell</u></b><br/>
<i>The Darling Estate</i>​</div><br/>East Wing, West Wing, North or South.  Up.  Down.  None of those words mattered to Tink.  The only directions that meant something to the fairy involved two stars and straight on 'til morning.  She knew how to get to Mermaid Cove and Crocodile Creek and the Hangman's Tree and all the way out to where the Jolly Roger lay anchored - tormenting Captain Hook was a particularly entertaining pastime - but she did not know how to find the East Wing where Wendy lived.<br/><br/>Armed with nothing but her wits and facing a long hallway with doors on both sides, Tinkerbell made the obvious choice.  She started opening them to see what lay behind the gleaming wood.<br/><br/>The first room was<i>enormous</i>, bigger than anything she'd ever seen in her whole life and Tink had been alive a very very long time, ever since the first baby had laughed.  The floors gleamed and shone so bright she could see her reflection in them.  Bells chimed and echoed around the vast space as sparkling gold wings lifted and fluttered behind her, the movement mirrored by the blurry fairy on the floor.  She laughed and clapped her hands.  What a clever thing it was to have floors that reflected just like the brilliant waters of Mermaid Cove!  Peter would love it too!  Finding him all of a sudden became of the utmost importance.<br/><br/>...but she was supposed to be finding Wendy's room.<br/><br/>Peter would be so upset, maybe even angry, if she did not do what she was supposed to.<br/><br/>The palest shade of dove gray bloomed in her wings right where they attached to her back before spreading out through the delicate veining.  What to do, what to do?<br/><br/>Both?  Could she do both?  Peter couldn't be made if she tried her hardest to find Wendy before showing him this beautiful room with its grand high ceilings just perfect for flying.  Tinkerbell nodded to herself.  Just a few more doors and then she'd go find Peter to show him this wonderful room.<br/><br/>Flying would be quickest so a quick flex of her back muscles extending her wings to their full span.  Another<i>flex</i>lifted her into the air, just high enough that the tips of her toes could skim the ground if she stretched them downward.  Leaving the ornately carved wooden door open, Tink drifted toward the door just across the hall.  Pressing just her fingertips to its surface, she pushed gently.<br/><br/>The door swung open silently.<br/><br/>There was another fairy staring at her through a window on the wall!  Inky black filled Tinkerbell’s eyes and darkened her wings.  Peter hadn’t told her another fairy was going to be here.  Maybe he didn’t know?  She peered closer at the other fairy and was surprised when the other one stared boldly back at her!  Tinkerbell stuck her tongue out at the wicked little thing and to her surprise, the other fairy mimicked her again.  What a rude little thing!  Grumbling, she shifted her attention onto the other contents of this strange little room while still keeping one eye on the mirror and her own reflection.  A strange white seat stood against the wall with a basin on a stand next to it.  Something metal curved into the basic but what it did, Tink had no clue.  There was an urge to touch and explore but that other fairy with her dark wings and darker eyes kept her from stepping further into the small room.  Still, her mind raced with the possibilities of what this little area could be used for.  Was this some sort of throne room?  It was very small.  How on earth would he ever hold court here?  What strange and wonderful things Georgie had in this house that was just far too big.  Dark eyes slid back to the other fairy, wicked little thing that she was.  “You better stay away from my Peter,” hissed Tink as she stepped back, pulling the heavy door closed.<br/><br/>“Miss Tinkerbell?” A hand touched her bare shoulder.<br/><br/>A shriek and the sharp bite of her blade pressed into the flesh of his neck were the only replies he received.<br/><br/>“P-p-Peter wants you,” he stammered out, not daring to so much as swallow lest the blade slip.<br/><br/>More words were unnecessary as she leaped into the air, her wings pushing against the air to keep her aloft.<br/><br/><hr class="bbc-hr bbc-hr--3"/><br/><div style="text-align: center"><b><u>Wendy Moira Angela Darling</u></b><br/>
<i>Suds and Bubbles</i>​</div><br/>Eyes slid over the pair as they crossed the room.  Eyes that looked but did not<i>see</i>whether it was out of politeness or vague indifference.  This was the sort of place a person went to not be noticed, where privacy was guaranteed, and where someone like Finley would not be allowed entrance.<br/><br/>Wendy liked that.  She craved the anonymity of this special place tucked away inside a run-down laundromat.  The tight fist of anxiety curled around her stomach loosened the deeper into the place James guided her.<br/><br/>Each booth was shaped like a C, the rich leather benches curling around the table to create a small intimate space for their inhabitants.  Couples and small groups lounged in almost all of them, save one, the one closest to the woman crooning into her microphone while the man accompanied her on the piano.  Wendy breathed out slowly, letting more of the night’s earlier tension leave her body.  As long as she didn’t have to sit at the bar, as long as she was able to tuck away safely into a booth, as long as she could shed Wendy Moira Angela Darling and just be Wendy, the night wouldn’t be counted as a total loss.<br/><br/>James carefully untangled their arms and waited until she had settled in and slid around the curve of the bench before joining her.  Fingers that trembled almost imperceptibly reached into her pocket to extract the pack of cigarettes and her light, stacked them carefully on the table.  “It’s just -- “<br/><br/>The barman’s appearance at their table interrupted her.  From the carefully balanced tray on his left hand, he set down two glasses of a pale maple-colored liquid followed by two dark cigars, matches, and an ashtray.  “Two Don Julio’s and two Padron Fiftieth Anniversaries.”<br/><br/>A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips.  “Thank you, Paul.”  Slipping her hand into her pocket again, she pulled out three bills and slid them across the table.  “Start a tab for us, please, and give one of these to Delia,” she nodded toward the woman, “and Billy,” a tip of her head toward the piano player, “and keep one for yourself.”<br/><br/>Paul palmed the money, only the slight widening of his eyes betraying the peek he stole and the large number printed on the bills.  A slight nod indicated that he would indeed follow through on what had been requested.<br/><br/>She reached for one of the glasses and pulled it closer, pausing to swirl the contents slowly before lifting it to her lips.  Unlike at the Starstruck, Wendy took the time to savor her drink, letting the smell of caramel and oak push away the last bits of anxiety before taking a more appropriate sip that soothed her frazzled nerves.  Her eyes closed as her head dropped back against the back of the booth.  A sigh slipped from slightly parted lips.<br/><br/>“Tell me, Mr. Dameron,” she said as her eyes opened slowly, the stormy blue searching his face.  “Why you?  Why did my father hire you of all people?”<br/><br/><hr class="bbc-hr bbc-hr--3"/><br/><div style="text-align: center"><b><u>Tinkerbell</u></b><br/>
<i>The Darling Estate</i>​</div><br/>“What do you think is down there, Peter?”  She was behind him, clinging to him, resisting the urge to bury her face against his back.  It felt bad, so so very bad.  Whatever was down there was not for them but Peter was fearless.  If he wasn't afraid and was going to go down there, she was going with him despite the icy cold claw of fear that had a hold of her innards.<br/><br/>Bravery was something he valued, something he demanded from his Lost Boys.  She could be brave too.  She’d show him.  Even if she was just a fairy who was so afraid of where those stairs led and what was behind that heavy steel door at the bottom that even the whites of her eyes were black now.<br/><br/>Her hands clutched at his arm, her grip tight as she nudged at him, trying to get him to take that first step.