“Are you sure? We all come here the same way and it’s not because we walked here ourselves.” Curly put his hands up when she snapped, showing just how empty and far away from his knife they were. He was still armed because he wasn’t a complete idiot, but he hadn’t come to fight. Moreover, he hadn’t come to incite conflict between the two factions when he knew a raid would be inevitable and bring them together sooner than later.
“Yes and no,” he replied evenly. He could see a light spark in her eyes as she glowered at him. A curious spark about what he had said, but he needed to play it smart. He needed answers to the island and it wasn’t about to sidle up to Hook when his loyalty still laid with Peter– who didn’t deserve it but Hook didn’t seem like the sort who deserved it either.
“You want to know, don’t you? I can see it in your face that you’re curious as to why Peter decided a girl would be suited for this island. Well, I can tell you. For a price, of course.” Curly knew he was being awfully arrogant to think that he had any real value proposing something that he didn’t have certain proof of but his steady gaze spoke volumes of confidence he didn’t typically show. He had considered the added risk of Isadora choosing to turn on Wendy like a jealous mermaid but at the rate she had fled from Peter, he didn’t imagine there was much to be jealous of a girl who was bound to the island by a fantasy.
“A story for a story. I want to know about the Captain– but not any old story. I want the real one,” he said. “I’ve seen what girls can do to boys, I don’t imagine it’ll be difficult for you to get anything from Hook himself.”
“Just because we don’t how we got here doesn’t mean anything.” Isadora bristled at Curly’s insulation. Pan might have had some power that she couldn’t quite explain, something otherworldly than what her God-fearing mother may have taught her, but he had to have a weakness. He wasn’t invincible, no matter how he surrounded himself with an army of impressionable young disciples who were too scared or enamored to know the difference between a higher being and a boy who only thought himself a God.
Ah, there it was. The truth behind the suspicion and the distrust. It was true, Wendy was partially the reason for Curly’s daring to even speak with her. It was perhaps also true that Wendy was Pan’s only weakness, at least, every horrible thing he has ever done always seemed to circle back around to the young girl. She had resented Wendy, the number of lives ruined over an infatuation, but she did not envy a girl who had the love of a devil.
Isadora’s glare had faltered slightly then, Curly’s motivations and allusions revealed. There was always a catch, and she knew better than to even remotely think he was just going to tell her anything she wanted to know and if even what he knew was genuine.
It was at Curly’s final proposition did the coil of the nostalgia-induced restraint Isadora was holding onto begin to snap. She knew she probably looked a traitor in his eyes. After all, she was the one who left. But to suggest that she would manipulate Hook for information, that her gender was a card to be played. (Like the others had assumed.) That was unimaginable.
She breathed in heavily through her nose, before exhaling an irritated sigh. “Let me ask you something, Curly.”
“Do you think me a fool?”
