The exterior of the building is typical of the rest of Storybrooke; all wooden fronting and quaint New England charm. The sign painted on the window proclaims 'Mr Gold – Pawnbroker and Antiquities Dealer'. The bell above the door rang; shrill and insistent. If it weren't for the particular nature of the store and its proprietor perhaps this wouldn't be entirely out of the ordinary for open hours on a Monday afternoon in late autumn.
In the backroom, Gold felt the shift in atmosphere. Someone is in the shop. He knows almost immediately who it is; the door was not opened with the usual hesitancy of an ordinary citizen, the air not inhaled with the fearful reverence of a person looking for his particular brand of help. There was only one person in this town foolish enough to feel at ease striding into this shop as if they owned the place.
He smirked knowingly at the sudden influx of nostalgia and puts the kettle on with practiced familiarity not even turning around when he hears the patent click of heels on the mahogany floors. "Am I to presume this is a social call, dearie?"
She is unimpressed by his terms of endearment. He remembers when she was young, impressionable and despite his grotesque appearance and moral ambiguity, those small signs of affection were enough to have her turn towards him. Like a flower turns to the sun. He'll admit he misses the silent adulation but she is the fulfilment of his grand design. He created her so well it inflates his ego just to see the small displays of cruelty; he is filled with pride when she thinks she has outgrown him, that they are equals now and that she can ignore the simple fact that he made her all she is.
"I think we both know why I'm here."
He can't help but laugh out loud at this, if only she knew how perfectly she plays her part. He wonders if underneath it all she knows that she's dancing to his tune even now. "It isn't the tenacious Miss Swan again? Anyone would think you've gone soft, love. You usually deal with obstacles so efficiently."
"Miss Swan appears to be a more capable adversary than I first anticipated…" She trails off, her mind clearly wandering to the aforementioned blonde. Gold grins wickedly and once again revels in his own ingenious. Who but he could have thought to disguise the Queen's True Love as her greatest nemesis.
"Clearly." He drawls, twisting his cane in his hands. Her eyes become dark with unspoken threats and he continues. "Well. If there's nothing I can do for you my dear, I really must insist that you leave, as you can see I have a great deal of work to be done." He gestures at the empty shop before turning to end the kettles insistent whistling.
"No! Wait." She begins, and he isn't even surprised when she almost whispers. "I want to make a deal…"
"Is that so?" He replies pouring the hot water into a tea pot and leaving it to brew for a few minutes, the picture of ambivalence. "What kind of deal precisely?" She shuffles nervously and it reminds him of the child he knew, it's the first sign of true vulnerability from her in a very long time.
"I need something… a potion… a spell…"
"You're going to have to be more specific, dearie."
"Something, anything at all that can remove thoughts or feelings." She clarifies, regaining a certain lift to her chin which shows her to be steeling herself against some perceived threat. How right she is, he thinks smugly.
"Oh? And who or what is the focus of these, ah, feelings?"
"I hardly see how that's relevant."
"I rather think I should be the judge of that, don't you?"
She glares at him from beneath her bangs and her teeth grind together as she speaks. "Emma Swan." He chuckles to himself lightly.
"So I suppose I was more than right when I surmised you'd gone soft, Regina. The Saviour? Snow White's daughter? Really, you'd think your dear mother had taught you better taste."
She bares her teeth at him and sneers. "Don't ever speak another word about my mother or so help me you'll know that you've not felt half of my wrath. Can you help me, or not?"
"While it's been absolutely lovely having such an insightful conversation, I'm afraid I can't be of any assistance. I'm a man of many talents but creating a potion in a land without magic? No I don't think even I could do that." He turns his back on her, leaving her to stew in her anger some more, pouring the tea and taking a small sip. "However, I will keep in mind everything you've said today. One never knows when such information can come in handy. Now please, show yourself out."
His face twists into a self-satisfied smirk as she is forced to acquiesce to his wishes, throwing deathly glares and the rare expletive at him as she goes. This has been a very fulfilling encounter, at least on his part. It is so very lovely to know that things are going according to plan. Now she will go to the Hatter, as expected, in some desperate attempt to remove Emma Swan from the equation. Her attempts will be futile, the curse will be broken and destiny will be fulfilled.