"You have already inspected the whole thing inch by inch at least twice by now. So… what's your verdict?"
"If you must know, I guess it looks sanitized enough for preventing its inhabitants to contract a lethal illness."
"Am I too hopeful if I assume you mean Henry will be safe coming around here?"
"I don't see the point in fighting the inevitable. Besides, he seems to have survived your previous surveillance in the past rather successfully… So, yes, I think our son's safety will be guaranteed."
From her position on top of the counter, Emma grins to me in what I'm sure is an attempt at mockery. "It is so very magnanimous of you to imply that my humble abode meets your standards, Your Majesty." She says, and fakes a curtsey as graciously as a potato while nearly stomping to the floor in the process.
I must admit I'm fairly impressed. Not that Emma's fondness for rustic décor (which she has undoubtedly taken after her mother) would ever come near to my idea of good taste, but somehow she has managed to give the apartment a clear personal imprint in merely three days since she moved in and make it look comfortable and agreeable enough. Cozy, as she and Henry would say.
"Let me play the attentive host and get you some snack or something." Emma jumps to the ground and walks towards the cupboard. "What would it be? Salty peanuts? Cornflakes? Pickles?"
"I certainly hope that you take care of stocking healthy nourishment for Henry's visits…"
"Nuts are healthy!" She is shooting me an indignant look. Not that I'm fooled, I have checked and verify the fridge is packed with fresh vegetables and eggs. Henry told me they are venturing with Spanish tortilla and Greek salad tonight. "A drink, then?" She offers. "Beer? Tap water?"
She emerges from the kitchen with two glasses and a bottle of my own homemade cider, and guides the way to the living room, placing the glasses over the low wooden table Marco has crafted for her as a flat-warming gift. I take a sit beside it and appreciate the comfort of the sofa as well as the sight of the languid twilight through the window.
"This must be bright during the day." I comment.
"Oh, it is." She nods, accommodating herself beside me. "Here you are. Cheers."
I take my glass of cider and crook my head a little. "What are we toasting to?"
"I dunno… To emancipation at mid-thirties?" She suggests.
"You are not even 33 yet, dear." I observe.
"You know what I mean. Neither had I been under my parents' roof until very recently, anyway." She stops and looks at me for a moment. I think I know what she's trying to tell me: this was not a veiled accusation. "But it still feels as if I've been stuck in the loft with them for ages." Her laugh vibrates and she shakes her head in amusement. "Seriously, I really needed my own place."
"Very well, then. To finding our own places." I raise my glass and Emma carefully collides hers with it.
"Um! Very tasty, Regina! Thank you for the cider."
"You are welcome." I smile. I know it tastes delicious. I cannot help the hint of pride at the compliment, though.
"And thank you for helping me with the move."
I don't know what she's talking about. I only offered to help her with her packing at Snow's place. It hardly took us one morning to get everything she owned stuffed in a pair of trunks. And it's not like my time is consumed by city hall duties anymore, so the whole task was more sort of a very needed distraction.
The sun is visible now from where I sit, a pulsing red globe sinking into the dark clouds over the horizon.
"I know you are used to more luxurious accommodations" Emma's hair is glowing rabidly in the last strays of the day, "but you could also crash in whenever Henry is around, you know?"
I shut my eyes slightly, momentarily blinded by the gold and the red and the purple swirl. "I suppose I could." The way Emma smiles I know that my attempt at a nonchalant statement has failed.
I'm probably smiling back, so I rush to take another sip of cider, which falls through my throat and runs warm and sweet and a little wild towards my stomach.