So many instances happened in Jefferson's life, in Storybrooke, time was a different sort of word to him. So were action and consequences. Perhaps kidnapping and threatening with weapons was a very bad thing to do indeed, if he really wanted to hurt Emma or Snow White he would have done so. As he'd stated several times, he just wanted his daughter. Such was the way. All of that was in the last curse, the last time he'd been sent to another land with another sort of rules, he'd moved on to this one. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so numb to it. But if he let it get to him like it had in Wonderland, he'd go mad.
That was just no good for anyone.
"I have no idea what that is," he commented dryly as he continued to work on her lock, fingers working slowly and meticulously. Thankfully when you came from nothing you learned how to make things just work with what you had. Especially if tinkering was involved. Jefferson would figure it out. He did look up at her through his working fingers from his spot on the couch when she inquired about the hat. "If we wanted to steal, yes. But I figured it was better to pay for the parts since we're stuck here. You'd be surprised what people will pay you for in the neighboring villages...those are for you." He motioned with his shoulder to the three shapely books on the coffee table. One was incredibly tiny, one large, the other quite regular. Yes, like in a story book. And they all looked either ancient or like they'd been through a hurricane.