His words about his father turned in her mind; that didn't sound like Rumplestiltskin, even if the anger issues were quite on the nose. The concept of a second chance, though — he must have gotten that from her (or rather, his own Belle, although she wasn't quite sure how to process that one just yet. If she could overcome Lacey, though, she could overcome anything). Belle's heart swelled at the idea that Rumple could have such a bond with a son in another life, possibly, hopefully. The talk of villains and rulership, all of it sounded so similar and yet so many lives ago.

Belle sighed, mouth quirking in an expression meant to be reassuring, and through a surge of boldness she reached out to squeeze his forearm. He was a good kid. She had a sense.

She said, "Well, there are certainly no kings here," as she removed her hand, settling it back on her side of the table. "Or — none actively ruling, at least. Think of Storybrooke as something of a collective. It... sounds like you might be familiar with a good number of us. Maybe younger — or different — versions of people from your world. Luckily, you're not the first person to wind up here unexpectedly. We've all had to adapt to this life, as strange as it might sound."

Idly, Belle turned her teacup by the handle and asked, "What were you doing before... immediately before you found yourself here?"