Even after living in Storybrooke for years, Killian Jones still doesn't trust the talking phones. He prefers using shellphones or magic message bottles.
There’s a tiny voice that echoes into the hall and it makes Emma stop. She pushes the door open to find her daughter sitting on her bedroom door, but instead of talking to her dolls during tea time, she’s talking into her shell necklace.
“Yes, the one with the sparkles!…Is it pink?…” She giggles. “That’s it…okay, daddy…I will tell them…no…they aren’t upset, but they said you have to be here for the next tea time…okay…I love you, too.”
Not wanting to interrupt her conversation, Emma backs out of the room, closing the door over with her brows furrowed. Later, after Killian comes home from his shift at the station she asks him about it.
“Did you call Hope earlier on her shell necklace?”
“Aye…I popped by the farm to pick up the stuffed animal she left there and neither Dave nor myself knew one was her’s.”
“You didn’t think to call me on my cell?”
“I did, darling–” She pulls her phone out of her back pocket. “–it went straight to voicemail.”
“I don’t have a missed call.”
“Blasted things are never reliable.”
Before she can respond, their daughter comes rushing into the kitchen, her pink unicorn tucked under her arm while she holds a glass bottle in front of her.
“Henry wrote again, Henry wrote again!”
Emma’s mouth falls open.
“A message in a bottle…really?”
After sweeping their daughter into his arms, her husband turns back to her with a wink. For almost ten years he’s lived in Storybrooke, he knows all the in’s and out’s of technology–better than her sometimes–but there are still some things that will never change.
And she wouldn’t have it any other way.