Meanwhile, miles away on the Isle of the Lost, Harry Hook strolls through the crooked doors of Ursula's Fish and Chips. He stops only long enough to drop his sword in the sword-check barrel then makes his way over to the front counter.
He crosses around to the employee's side without a care or ounce of shame, groping blindly underneath until his hand closes around the neck of a rum bottle.
He grins in triumph and turns it up, taking a swig just in time for Uma to come by and smack him over the back of the head. He promptly chokes on the swallow, glowering at his captain when she just gives him an unimpressed look.
"Stop stealing drinks from behind the bar, Harry," she tells him for the umpteenth time.
"Ah, but I needed it," he claims. "Yeh see, my own bottle has, regre'ably an' unstoppably, somehow, someway, gone empty."
Uma is still not impressed. "That's because you drank it," she says flatly as Gil makes his way over, leaning against the counter beside them.
"Yeh have no proof," Harry declares with a dramatic point.
"Hey!" Uma calls over her shoulder. Every member of her crew and most of the other customers immediately give her their attention. "Who here's seen Hook with a bottle today?" she asks.
"Which one?" someone calls back.
"Either," she shrugs. "Doesn't matter." Both Captain Hook and his son are known to have a certain affinity for rum that surpasses even most other pirates.
"I seen 'em both," a different voice answers. There's a scattered mutter of agreement throughout the restaurant.
Uma gives Harry a pointed look, one eyebrow raised. Rather than actually respond, he chooses to simply scrunch up his face and stick his tongue out in her direction, holding one middle finger up toward the customers as he does.
"You do drink a lot, Harry," Gil tells him. "Especially lately."
"He's not wrong," Uma admits.
"Actually, I think it really started a few months ago," Gil continues. Harry can't help but tense, knowing exactly where the conversation is going.
"Gil," Uma warns as she notices.
The blond keeps talking, oblivious as usual. "You know, after Hayden left for Auradon."
He's lucky Uma's reflexes are so fast as she reaches out and grabs Harry's wrist before he can swing the bottle.
"Cool it," she barks. He opens his mouth to argue and she just sends him a glare, silently reminding him not to question his captain's orders. Once she sees that her first mate is well and truly settled, at least as much as he ever is, she drops his arm and turns her attention back to Gil.
"Gil," she says sharply. He looks at her with big apologetic eyes. "You know you can't just go talking about you-know-who leaving," she continues.
He nods. "Right. Sorry, Uma." He looks sheepishly back at Harry. "Sorry, Harry," he adds.
Uma rolls her eyes at the two of them and turns around. She grabs a tray of food off the nearest table, glaring at the customer when he looks like he might actually protest, and drops it on the counter in front of Gil. "Here," she says. "Eat up."
With Gil sufficiently distracted, she looks at Harry, watching as he just mutters something incomprehensible under his breath and takes another drink.
She knows they probably need to talk about this, but she also knows there's almost no way that conversation can end well. "Harry..."
"I don' wanna talk 'bout it," he tells her. "'Sides, it don' matter anyway. My godling will be back 'fore we know it."
"Harry," Uma sighs, "it's been six months. I know Hayden's trying but we need to accept, you need to accept, that he might not be able to do this on his own."
"Yeh doubtin' him?" Harry demands, looking nearly offended by the mere thought.
Uma rolls her eyes. "I didn't say that," she tells him. "I'm just saying that everything we've seen or heard so far shows that it's not exactly easy going for him."
"He's tryin', though," he insists. "It's those heroes," he sneers the word, "tha' are makin' thin's imposs'ble."
As if to prove his point, the old television that sits in the corner, turned to some Auradon news channel because that's all they can pick up, cuts from a goodness propaganda commercial to some reporter with a microphone.
It's not the reporter that draws their attention though.
Harry perks up as soon as he sees Hayden appear on the screen. He smiles as he notices that, unlike the others, the pale boy doesn't look to have changed himself to fit into Auradon at all. He's still wearing black from head to toe as well as all his jewelry.
"Hayden, you've just come from a meeting with the royal council. Can you tell us what it was about?" The reporter shoves her microphone in his direction.
Hayden looks right at the camera. "That meeting was about the royal council," he says the name with nearly palpable contempt, "continuing to refuse to honor the deal that King Ben made on the day of his coronation. They continue to deny Isle citizens the right to come to Auradon. They continue to refuse proper provisions be sent over."
The reporter seems stunned at the answer she received. "But, I'm sure they have very good reasons for- for prolonging the process of- of completing the deal, yes?" she stammers.
Hayden gives her a cold look. "No," he says bluntly. "They're simply so arrogant and so caught up in the past that they would rather continue punishing children for the crimes of their parents than admit they were and still are wrong."
As the reporter stares at him in shocked silence Hayden turns on his heel and walks away, quickly disappearing off screen.
Harry grins as he turns to Uma who is now leaning against the counter beside him with a smirk. "Don' yeh jus' love how they keep puttin' him on live tv?" he asks her.
"You think they'd learn," she answers in amusement. She glances around the shop and sees the approving looks on the customers' faces. "He's never gonna say what they want him to say," she continues.
"He never has been one to hold anythin' back," Harry recalls with a fond smile. "Brut'lly honest, he is," he adds.
"Don't start daydreaming on me," Uma says wryly. Harry shoots her a glare with no real heat behind it. She sighs. "It is good to know that he's actively working on things though," she tells him.
Harry nods seriously. "Aye. Hayden, at leas', is no traitor."
"Speaking of," Uma nearly growls as the screen changes again to show a blonde-haired Mal. "Poser," she yells as she throws a piece of fish at the girl's image.
"Traitor," Harry loudly agrees.
"Hello?" Uma calls when no one else does. A number of creative curses and a few more things thrown at the television is enough to satisfy her, well, almost.
"Gil!" she snaps. "You wanna quit choking down yolks and get with the program?"
"Yeah," he agrees through a mouthful of food, swallowing quickly. "What they said."
"That little traitor," Uma seethes, "who left us in the dirt."
"Who turned her back on us all," Harry says with a glare. "Who's leavin' Hayden to try an' free us all by his lonesome."
"Who said that you weren't big enough or bad enough to be in her gang," Gil recalls. "You know, back when we were kids. Remember?" He looks around at the others. "She called her Shrimpy and the name just kind of...stuck," he finishes quietly at Uma's glare.
"That snooty little witch," Uma continues, "who grabbed everything and left me nothing!"
"No, she left you that sandbox," Gil reminds her. "Then she said that you could have the shrimp-"
"I need you to stop talking," Uma says flatly. Harry shoves at Gil's shoulder to shut him up and gives him a look.
"Look," he says as he turns back to Uma, "we have her turf now."
"Harry, that's her turf now!" she protests. "I want it too. We should not be getting her leftovers." She gestures dramatically at Harry. "Son of Hook!" She gestures at Gil. "Son of Gaston!"
Harry cuts in before she can continue. "Son of Hades," he says pointedly.
"Son of Hades," Uma agrees easily. Of course she'll include Hayden. "And," she adds, turning dramatically, "me, most of all, daughter of Ursula!"
They all watch as she spins around on her chunky heels to face them again. "What's my name?" she asks seriously.
Harry grins, slightly mad like always, and takes off his hat, holding it to his chest. "Uma!"
"What's my name?"
"Uma?" Gil says, somehow managing to turn it into a question.
"What's my name? What's my name?"
Harry's grin only grows as the music starts from seemingly nowhere, a conversation from months ago floating through his mind.
Why do we always end up singin' indeed, he thinks.