Post-curse check in with woodenass.

[theironlyhope]

The sheer number of problems the town was facing with the end of the curse (and the beginning of magic working it's way through Storybrooke) equally amazed and pissed off Emma. There were the happy problems; specifically those related to reunions and the jumble of memories that needed to be sorted through. There were the serious problems; the ones

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[woodenass]

"Of course I'm in here. I haven't left." Not since you left me. He made no move to turn the key or open the door though.

August wasn't bitter, honestly. It hadn't occurred to him to be: he figured, rather post-hoc, that if he'd stayed unreal forever he'd never realize it; and if he'd stayed as animate wood forever, well... he'd probably deserved it. Most of the last three days had been spent managing himself. He'd only thawed out -- to his terrific relief -- through last night and the morning. First, he'd been so happy he'd burst into tears; secondly, he realized he hadn't realized that he hadn't needed to pee until he really really did. He'd slunk down the hall and taken twenty minutes in the shower without anyone seeing him, which August regarded as both a triumph and a new low.

Back in his room, he'd waffled. Between his desire to not publicly be the little wooden boy again and his apprehension at seeing Gepetto and Cricket again, and his desire to check on his motorcycle and have some breakfast and go outside and enjoy

[theironlyhope]

Maybe the universe wasn't going to kick him in the indecisons, but Emma sure as hell was. She wasn't in the mood for small talk through a door that previous experience told her she could kick in without a whole lot of effort. The idea of doing that again had her stepping forward - until she remembered that Granny wasn't someone whose bad side she wanted to be on. Grumbling, she tried the more civilized approach of turning the knob, which unfortunately, he had thought to lock. "I was good until I decided to come here," she complained, intentionally raising her voice to be a little louder than necessary.

"Open the door before I kick it in." At least with that warning, she could say she had tried. They couldn't expect her to leave Pinocchio on his own before she saw that he was alright. Her definition of "alright" at this point in time was better than she had seen him last; not made of wood, or partially made of wood. Able to walk, talk, and function as a human being again. She could check one of those things off just from hearing his

[woodenass]

She wasn't going to kick it in. Probably. Almost certainly. It wasn't worth Granny coming down like the wrath of hell over Emma damaging the door.

August perched on the end of the bed, fiddling with a pen, twisting it around and around in his fingers. Pens were so functional. Regularly hexagonal around the circumference and only slightly gnawed. It even had its cap. He'd had this pen, the lone survivor of a pack of ten, since Arlington.

He was fully-dressed -- he'd even shrugged on his jacket an hour ago in preparation for leaving the room. Sighing, August crossed the six feet to the door and cracked it open. His body filled the gap, protectively. "I'm not mad at you. And it seems you believed anyway."

[theironlyhope]

Emma stepped forward when the door opened, crossing her arms over her chest when he still didn't let her in. She could have said a lot about the way he looked, though her initial reaction was to be relieved that he looked human again. When that passed, she couldn't help but notice that he kind of looked like hell. Showered, dressed, miserable hell. It was hard for her to know how to take that after everything he had wanted to see happen had fallen into place over the last few days