Hurrying down the sun-drenched sidewalk, the blonde slows her pace only when she has turned the corner and started up the street towards her apartment; a paper bag bearing a selection of groceries clutched against her stomach.
A paper bag swiped from an unattended till upon entering the store and loaded surreptitiously on a quick tour of busy aisles.
An old trick.
And one she imagines she would do well to keep to a minimum lest she get caught.
"Not today, though."
No, not today, but there had been a time- no less than a year or so ago- when she would have believed such a fate to be impossible; considering herself invincible in a rather reckless manner.
Still, she's learnt that lesson, and she's learnt it the hard way, and her face falls moodily with the memory as she stalks slowly back to the empty shell waiting for her.
The Mayor awakens with a little more grace then when she'd been pulled from her tainted sleep in the early hours of the morning; studying the cracked paint of the ceiling pensively, before rolling onto her side.
She lets out a short gasp as she moves against something warm, before realising it's the blonde's cat, curled up beside her on the mattress.
Frowning, she debates whether to shove the tabby away, before playing her fingers over warm fur gently.
Glancing up towards the chair, she raises a brow when she finds it vacant. Looking over towards the bathroom door, she notes that it has been left ajar and understands with a sense of confusion that she has been left alone.
Pushing herself up from crumpled sheets- and thanking any gods that might be interested that her own bed doesn't call for such exertion when wishing to leave its comfort- she stretches stiffly before looking down at herself in surprise; having completely forgotten that she had donned the younger woman's running shorts the night before.
"Well, this isn't going to work..."
She mutters; running a hand over a large crease down the side of her shirt with an irritable sigh.
Stalking towards the window, she looks disapprovingly out onto the concrete wasteland below.
Caskett springs up beside her and offers their view a similar look of disdain.
"Where's your human, Cat?"
She inquires, receiving a low purr in return.
Looking around for some sort of clue, she spots the blonde's note almost immediately and narrows her eyes as she tries to decipher complicated scrawl. While messy, the younger woman's scripture is strangely intricate, and the brunette finds herself absentmindedly surprised as it doesn't seem to fit with what little she has found out about her host.
Well, you only found out she wasn't called Alice several hours ago, so...
There is that.
She smirks, looking around with new intrigue as she finds herself free to explore.
Five minutes later, and she's found that there is very little to see in the younger woman's flat that isn't immediately obvious; cabinets and airing cupboard bare but for a few dustballs and the odd piece of mismatched crockery.
Flipping idly through the pages of one of the worse-for-wear paperbacks that rest beside a metal bread bin- an empty envelope inside that she decides must have been placed there by accident- she goes back on herself as she catches a flash of blue ink on one of the first few pages.
Someone left this in the park, and the mention of trauma, gore and betrayal had me thinking you might like it.
Can you move the car to the Other Place when you wake up?
I'll be back around 12.
X
Spiky, uppercase letters, and she studies them curiously before deciding she doesn't much care about their meaning.
Sighing as she plucks at her shirt, she comes to the realisation that- despite the sun still hanging low in the sky- she is uncomfortably warm, and debates the idea briefly, before padding over to the small bathroom and locking the door.
Having already checked the airing cupboard and finding it bare, she sniffs in disgust as she glances first towards the shower and then at the crumpled towel discarded on the floor. Pinching up the soft fabric between two fingers, she studies it with a scowl but deems it to be both relatively dry and seemingly clean enough.
"Well... I suppose this is a trip of firsts."
Shucking shorts and shirt, she steps into the pokey cubical of the shower and turns the tap.
Letting out a high-pitched cry as liquid ice hits her skin- eliciting a colony of goosebumps down her spine- she leans away from the water as far as the cramped space will allow and waits for it to warm up.
When a minute has come and gone and she's sensed no change in the shower's temperature, she grits her teeth and picks up the small bar of soap from its enamel throne. Holding it out under the frigid spray with a grimace, she creates a rich lather by rubbing it between her hands in the hopes of sanitising its surface of any trace of the blonde. Deeming the bar to be acceptable, she proceeds to scrub herself down, before biting the bullet- and holding her breath- and stepping beneath the water for six, torturous seconds.
Shutting the spray off with a second gasp of displeasure, she steps from the shower and wraps the younger woman's towel swiftly around her shivering frame.
"Good god, what an ordeal."
She growls, hesitating as she walks towards the door in nothing but fluffy cobalt.
Listening for life on the other side of peeling wood, she hazards a guess that she remains alone in the apartment and pokes her head around the door. Finding herself correct, she collects her neatly folded dress pants from the floor and stalks out into the main room.
Slipping into plush linen with a shudder of humiliation as she does so with nothing underneath, she dons her bra before considering the creased mess of her shirt with a frown.
Running her finger thoughtfully over her bottom lip, she closes her eyes as she strives to maintain her patience, before walking over to the small hamper beside the mattress.
She braces herself as she picks her way through its dismal offering, pursing her lips as she plucks at several items of underwear amidst the blonde's clothes.
She finds herself a little surprised by Emma's choice in lingerie, although she endeavours to think on such things as little as possible.
It's just... Before she came here, she'd had a vague preconception of what she had been expecting...
A warped expectation; both hatefully sinless by mere birthright, and despicably defiled if one was to look into her history.
She had considered it to be a certain kind of girl that might find herself pregnant before turning eighteen.
As such, the scraps of fabric that bejewel the rest of the young woman's garments come as a surprise. Scant cotton, but simple in design and cut, and, if anything, more disconcertingly childish than provocative.
Not the lace and flimsy fabric she might have expected.
Let's not give credit to the preposterous notion that you've spent any time pondering the Saviour's undergarments...
Selecting a plain navy top from the hamper with the unenthused theory that it comprises the least opposable option, she pulls the worn material over her head and fusses it into place. Not the most flattering of outfits to say the least, but she notes that the grey tinge to the blue matches the pinstripes of her pants, and the simple V-necked t-shirt fits her moderately well. It isn't to her liking, but nor does she deem it to be a choice that will turn heads or beg for judgement.
Jumping as a key turns in the lock of the front door, she composes herself swiftly as the blonde enters with a paper bag held at her side and her long hair falling over her shoulder.
"Hey!"
"Good morning."
She replies, allowing a small smile to touch her lips in response to Emma's own before she can think better of it. Correcting her mistake with glib carelessness, she continues airily
"I presumed you'd attempted another disappearing act, dear."
"Why, did you miss me?"
The younger woman teases as she places the bag on the counter and starts unpacking her spoils. Realising for the first time how hungry she is, the Mayor watches on approvingly, before frowning as she comes to the belated realisation that the blonde doesn't seem to possess any dining furniture. Hesitating for just a second, she pushes such nuisances aside in fear of appearing lost and makes her way over to the armchair and takes a seat.
"Coffee?"
"Please."
She nods, striving to get her head around this almost domestic little scene played out opposite her sworn enemy's abandoned brat. Watching as Emma goes about boiling an ancient kettle and sprinkling granules of instant coffee into mismatched mugs, she bites her tongue as to her virginity when it comes to the caffeinated fraudulence being served up to her. Accepting the mug the blonde pads over with, she inspects the black pool it offers with clinical efficiency.
"I take mine with milk or cream."
She informs, trying to hand it back to the younger woman who glances over at the items waiting on the counter before shaking her head.
"Don't have any, sorry."
Regina pulls a face of genuine surprise as Emma stalks back to the shabby kitchenette and ignites the two-hob stove.
"You don't have any milk?"
Thinning her lips with her back to the brunette, the blonde shrugs; adopting a dismissive tone.
"No... I'm, like, vegan or something."
She explains; cracking a couple of eggs into a small pan.
The brunette opens her mouth to point out several flaws with this last statement but decides against it.
Instead, she simply watches as Emma goes about making breakfast; keeping her mouth shut when the younger woman negates to season the eggs, nor toast the bread. To question such things would be pointless, as she already knows the answers, and- regardless of who the young woman might be- she doesn't deem it courteous to bring attention to another's affluence- or lack thereof- over breakfast.
Leave that to disdainful looks and inner judgement.
Accepting the large plate of bread, eggs, and several slices of apple when the blonde brings it over along with the appropriate cutlery, she tucks in as Emma takes a seat perched in the windowsill to face her.
"So, how do you want to do this?"
The younger woman asks through a mouthful of food.
"Excuse me?"
"Well, like... Do you want to take it in turns, or...?"
"Take what in turns?"
"Questions."
"Questions?"
"Well, yeah. I have them. You have them... Almost sounds like the recipe for a conversation or something."
She grins teasingly as she pauses with her fork halfway up to her mouth, and the Mayor finds herself once again struck by just how young her host actually is.
Dark coals flickering about the room as she chews her own mouthful pensively, Regina finds herself suddenly hatefully homesick. She has always been one to enjoy the finer things in life- even as a girl- but, rather than relishing them for their value, her interest has always been in the comfort her belongings might provide.
A comfort that has been lacking in other aspects of her life.
... There is no comfort here.
Nothing.
The blonde's grin is infectiously sunny, but it does little to blind her to the reality of this place.
Quick wit and amiable manners are a good facade, but not good enough.
They beseech their recipient to accept at face value 'yes, I'm fine, I'm happy, I've got it covered.'
Regina doesn't think the girl sat in the window her has it covered. Not in the slightest.
Because beneath that impish smirk is still an eighteen-year-old girl living alone in a miserable excuse for an apartment with a battle-scarred stray for company.
She recalls the anger that had laced the blonde's words when she had spoken briefly of her mother and understands that for one unfamiliar with the lore of her homeland, Emma might well believe that she had been tossed aside.
Still... She had then proceeded to do the same to her own offspring, and the boy had ended up in a loving home.
A curious home... But a loving home.
Somehow, she doesn't think things worked out quite so smoothly for the blonde. Else somebody, somewhere would surely have noticed that their little girl was living in a bad part of town and leaping out onto roofs with the carelessness of one indifferent to their mortality.
Somebody would care.
"...I do have questions... As for the order I ask them in, or when I am asked, I don't suffer much of a preference."
"Ok, well-"
"-I do, however, have a phonecall I need to make first..."
