ON THE TRAUMA WARD
Cora tugged at her disgustingly cheerful nurse's shirt. Just because she needed to blend in with Storybrooke General's trauma ward, didn't mean she had to look frumpy. Not that the pudgy nurse she was mimicking could look anything but frumpy—especially in scrubs sporting pink-and-blue kittens on puce.
Cora peeked into Killian Jones's room. Her lothario ally was flirting like crazy—and yet the blonde bimbo daughter of prune-faced Snow White was staring at him with contempt. What had happened to the captain's charms?
Suddenly, Cora realized what magic he was missing, the item more essential than his hook: guyliner.
Killian tried to concentrate on what scorching hot Sheriff Swan was saying. If he didn't catch her words, how could he twist them into double entendres? But for reasons unknown, all he could manage were excruciating clichés.
"My hook. May I have it back? Or is there another attachment you'd prefer?" Did I really just say 'another attachment'? Yikes!
The rest of their conversation passed in a blur. With a sneer of disinterest, Emma left. Killian remained handcuffed to his bed.
Epic Fail! To regain his mojo, Killian needed something. Freedom? His hook? Or… was it guyliner?
That's it. Guyliner.
When the next nurse strolled in, Killian was relieved she was a dog. As a man of honor, principle #1 said never see a pretty woman and not try to make her—but since this was one mangy mutt, he could rest his innuendo-creating faculties without breaking his code.
But the bowser wouldn't go.
She fluffed his pillows. She stuck a straw in his mouth to sip cranberry juice. She ran chapstick over his lips.
"Enough—" Killian read her badge "—Nurse Howard. I don't need anything."
"Really?" The nurse held up a slender black-and-gold cylinder. "Not even guyliner?"
Cora watched Captain Jones as he tried to figure out why a trauma ward nurse would offer him guyliner. Even banged up by a car, Killian was pretty. But the accident had slowed down his calculating abilities. A full minute passed before she saw fear glimmer in his eyes.
"You're not a nurse. You're Cora."
"I—I did what you said. I hurt Belle. I left the Dark One to you."
"But you got caught. Not smart. I'm here to make sure that won't happen again." She paused. "Close your eyes."
Trembling, Killian obeyed.
Cora uncapped the guyliner.
Killian stared at Cora. "You're leaving me chained to my bed? I thought you'd free me."
"And risk making my presence known?" Cora smiled. "What I gave you is better than freedom. I gave you power."
"That's no ordinary guyliner. You now have the ability to make anyone you stare at behave in stupid, thoughtless ways. Your glance will suck the common sense right out of their brains. The cleverest of your foes will behave like complete idiots."
Magic. Killian felt like kissing Cora—if her Nurse Howard guise wasn't such a dog.
"You'll find freedom within the hour."
Next up: "Off the Trauma Ward"
Comments much appreciated!
P.S. Yes, each drabble is exactly 100 words long (not counting the title).