There's something about the pang in Regina's chest when she hears Emma Swan's voice that makes her sick with herself. For all intents and purposes, Regina has sworn to herself that the feeling is nothing more than a burning irritation at the blonde's existence. She had almost managed to convince herself of that for a while there, until Emma had pulled Henry out of that mine safely. The mayor still berates herself daily for the near slip up on her part, getting so close to Emma that there could be no other reason than intent to kiss her. God, Regina had wanted to kiss her…it made her absolutely ill to think about, but it had changed the definition of the pang in her chest from irritation to arousal.
The pang returns when Emma's voice carries across Granny's, invading Regina's personal space like some kind of cling on. She wants to roll her eyes from the spot she has taken up at the end of the counter, but the whiskey had kicked in a long time ago, so there is no point in pretending. Because of this (both the whiskey and her lack of desire to pretend), Regina doesn't turn around, unwilling to acknowledge Emma or let Emma acknowledge her. This thought is almost null and void when Regina hears Ruby's voice accompanying Emma's.
"No one in their right mind wears that kind of leather anymore, Em," Ruby says, and Regina hears two chairs pull out from the table directly behind her. Great. Now she can't make an unnoticed escape. If they haven't noticed her yet, they will, and even if they have the common sense not to speak to her, she will still be caught drunk in public. Why had coming here been a good idea, again?
"Thanks, Ruby," Emma says, and Regina doesn't have to be looking at her to know she's smirking. She can even tell the woman's emotions by her tone of voice now…how pathetic. "I like my coats. They aren't really that chic, no, but those things have stuck with me through a lot."
"Sorry, I can't accept that as an excuse to like them," Ruby responds, and Regina has to smirk lightly. It's good to know Regina isn't the only one who finds those hideous things obnoxious. Sure, she has pictured ripping said hideous things off of the blonde's athletic body more than once, but that really is the point, isn't it? To get rid of the ugly fabric? Emma has a natural beauty to her, but she dumbs it down considerably with her less than tasteful wardrobe.
"Well I guess it's a good thing I didn't ask you to like it," Emma says, and Regina could have rolled her eyes at the snorting laugh Ruby gives in response. "I like leather. It's sexy."
Sexy? She thinks those things are sexy?
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Ruby says incredulously, her voice almost matching the absolute horror playing through Regina's less than functioning head. "Those things aren't sexy. They're drab. If you want sexy leather, you need like…black leather coats or something."
"I love black leather coats," Emma reasons. "On other people, though."
Regina can almost taste the smirks shared between the two. She's had enough. Emptying the rest of the whiskey from the glass she holds tightly in one hand, Regina sets it down with a thunk, pushing herself unsteadily out of her seat. She is picking up her coat when the blonde's voice carries over to her.
"Regina, are you alright?"
The brunette turns to give Emma an 'are you kidding me?' look, but only manages to make herself dizzy. Bracing a palm against the chair she has just gotten out of, she blinks once, then speaks, unaware of how slurred and uneven her usual sharp, direct tone is. "I'm perfectly fine, Sheriff. Now mind your own business."
"Wow, good evening to you, too," Emma mutters, which Regina quite clearly picks up, even as she moves away for the door to the diner. "You aren't driving, right?" Regina ignores her and keeps walking. Before Emma gets the bright idea to get up and follow, she is out the door and walking in the direction of downtown.
When Regina wakes the next morning, two things greet her: a killer headache that threatens to split her skull in half, and a gorgeous black leather coat hanging on the knob of her closet door. As soon as she sees it, the conversation from the previous night returns, and she knows damn well that she was setting aside her pride for the day and putting the coat on