Regina waits. And waits.
And waits.
She thinks maybe this time she's done it. Hidden the dagger away somewhere truly secret, truly impenetrable. Somewhere it won't be unearthed by a newborn Dark One, or a shady friend-turned-foe (whoever that might turn out to be).
But then Robin appears, a bit breathless and with a tear in his sleeve. He draws the dagger carefully from inside his vest and hands it over for the fifth time that day, a look of apologetic pride on his face.
Damnit.
He's found it again, stolen it again.
She'll have to try harder.
For Emma.
