Jefferson only gave her a hard stare before continuing along through the aisles to the store clerk. He didn't think himself like anyone else in Storybrooke. They were followers. Needy, whiny, whimsical little things that thrived off of hopes and dreams and getting other people to do everything for them. Jefferson was the person they got to do things for them at some point or another, but not anymore.
So maybe he'd needed her help and approached her in a completely unconventional way, just like they had. However he didn't think his want had been quite as unneeded.
"They have a contrived view of savior and sheriff. Don't be hard on them. We didn't get the same sort of schooling you had in your world." He'd be hard pressed to think more than half of them could even read.
Stopping in front of the counter where the eerie old man was poised, seemingly busy reading through some wares, Jefferson turned to her once again, folding his arms. "Just because this hat has been used against you in negative ways doesn't mean it's a bad thing. This hat is more useful than you'll ever know." It was the best thing that'd ever happened to him before Grace. Now, arguably, the worst thing.
Jefferson cleared his throat awkwardly, hoping to get the man's attention this time. "Uh yes, we were hoping to borrow this book? Or buy it, possibly?" He glanced back over to Emma. "You don't have any money, do you? Does this place even take money?"