Henry stepped through the entrance of Granny's, loosening his scarf in the temperature-controlled environment. A sincere smile came to his face as he was given a much warmer greeting from the citizens of Storybrooke than the day before when he was still an outcast. 

Even Mark, still alone and unsocial looked up at Henry, offering a small nod in greeting with a smile of his own. Taking this as an invitation, Henry walked over to the fireman's table; taking off his coat and hanging it on the back of the chair opposite Mark's as he took a seat. 

"Good morning, Mr. Carlyle." Mark greeted in a tone that was [i]especially[/i] friendly for him, taking a drink from his coffee. 

"And good morning to you, Mr. Dufresne. Bit chilly out, isn't it?" Henry asked, trying to make conversation. 

"Yes, so it is. All the more incentive to drink coffee." Mark added neutrally, taking another drink as he looked out the window. 

"Oh, I don't like coffee much - far too bitter." Henry said, sounding somewhat distracted as his mind wandered back to the dream he had last night. He didn't want to remember it, he [i]hated[/i] remembering it. He must have winced visibly, for Mark's voice seemed to echo towards him, "Are you alright, Henry?"

"Oh....oh....yes, I'm fine. Just remembering a bad dream I had last night." He answered simply, sounding almost as though it caused him pain to speak of it. 

"I see..." Mark replied simply, though his tone suggested he wanted to say more. "Anything you want to share?" He added on sincerely, green eyes staring straight at the teacher. 

Henry hesitated for a moment, debating whether to disclose the full details of the dream to Mark - for even dreams had power, and Henry wasn't sure how much power mentioning the Dark One would hold. "I...I can hardly remember. I was here, in Storybrooke, except the town was dead...gray. All I remember seeing is Mr. Gold on the ground....he was...stabbed and I was...holding a dagger in my hand. It was black, long, and jagged, as though it was wrought in shadow -- and there was a [i]name[/i] written on the blade....." 

"What was the name?" Mark asked curiously, not letting his eyes leave Henry for a moment. 

"Rumpelstiltskin." Henry answered bluntly. 

"Rumpelstiltskin? Like the fairy tale?" Mark repeated. His words implied sarcasm or amusement, but his tone was serious. 

"Yes, like the fairy tale...strange, isn't it?" Henry asked, trying to deviate from the main topic. 

"Yes...strange, indeed. Dreams are unusual occurrences, Mr. Carlyle. Don't dwell on them, if you want my advice; you'll end up driving yourself mad trying to apply order to disorder." Mark advised before asking for a to-go cup from the waitress. 

"Yeah, suppose you're right." Henry replied, trying to sound genial once more; though it was difficult. He couldn't disclose everything he saw or experienced to Mark. That he had killed Rumpelstiltskin - and [i]became[/i] the Dark One, himself. The raw power, the fear, the feeling of helplessness as the cumulative knowledge and power of millennia past permeated his very being...and it was amazing. 

This only caused Henry to shudder more as he pushed the dangerous thoughts out of his mind. "Let dreams stay dreams, Mr. Carlyle...People need to leave their Wonderlands - the real world is not so wonderful." Mark advised lastly before standing up to leave, coffee in hand. 

"It was good speaking with you, Mr. Carlyle. Have a pleasant day." Mark bid goodbye before heading to the door. 

"If only you knew, [i]Tin Man[/i]." Henry added after the fireman left the building, staying seated at the table to think....to ponder...to wonder.