Taking care to move with grace as She descends the stairs and stalks down the hallway, the soft click of stilettos on marble accompanies the gentle sway of her hips.
Frowning, She contemplates the sinful leather that lends her feet their cruel point in confusion.
It is a work day- surely- and She has a great number of more suitable shoes for such an occasion.
"How strange..."
She purrs, and her voice seems to come from very far away, yet echoes maddeningly in her skull.
Come to think of it; She isn't all too sure about the rest of her outfit either.
Business attire- or what She understands of the term- but isn't that just a little bit curious as She has little clue just what 'business' might await her.
For, isn't the pattern of the tiles reminiscent of her Summer Palace?
Evidently not, as She turns into a comparatively small kitchen drenched pleasantly in early morning sun.
Peculiar, as She could have sworn it had been eight fifteen when She had decided to make her way downstairs.
"What are you doing here?"
She barks, purrs, enquires, demands, as She sashays over to a modern glass table surrounded by ancient, high-backed chairs.
The girl doesn't answer, and She growls irritably as She picks up woven wool from off the table and purses her lips at the dainty, purple letters embroidered upon it.
"Emma."
The girl glances up at her- taking a break from blowing bubbles into her chocolate milk, her coffee, her whisky in cracked porcelain- and grins.
"You dressed up for me!"
A husky note of glee within childish melody, and She frowns as she takes a seat across from her guest and licks her lips.
"Why are you here?"
She tries once more; drinking in familiar grey cotton with a sense of unease.
There is something different about the girl's ensemble from when She had last encountered that scant fabric, however.
Sinful scarlet lace has been replaced by a messy ponytail, and several girlish barrettes, just like the ones She has seen worn by the children on their way to school.
Snow's children.
No.
How could that be?
Snow has no children.
She'd made sure of that.
Had banished the child.
Had lost the child.
Had found the child.
Had saved the child.
...Saved the Savior...
And the girl smiles back at her as she goes back to blowing bubbles through her straw.
"Emma?"
That name again, and She knows She's right, as it has been sewn into the blanket.
"Why are you asking me? I'm only here because you brought me here."
"To Storybrooke?"
"If you like."
"Why are you dressed that way? Aren't you cold?"
"A little. But how I'm dressed is entirely on you. This is your game, if you will."
"My game?"
"For now."
"I don't-"
"-Oh, stop that. Stop pretending you can't see what's right in front of your goddamn nose. You know what's going on, or else I wouldn't be here."
The blonde scolds, and she gets up to stalk around the table and brings over a series of books and papers before sitting back down and staring over the top of a curious pair of thick-rimmed glasses.
"What's this? What are you doing?"
"Work. Why else would I be here?"
"But you just said-"
But She trails off as the girl regards her with confusion, and the large, bay window of her office bathes them in sunlight.
Glancing around the familiar decor, She opens her mouth to inquire how it could be that they might find themselves here, before the sweet scent of honey distracts her.
"That was always my favorite..."
She confides, and the blonde nods.
"Yes."
"How did you know?"
"You know the answer to that, too. You do."
"... Graham said you came and talked with him..."
"Would he lie to you?"
"... Never..."
"Well, then."
"Why were you talking to him?"
"Why are you focusing on the Sheriff? We both know I wasn't."
"But..."
She frowns- considering this fact- before leaning forwards and studying sharp features critically.
There is a bruise colouring one of the girl's eyes, and up close she can smell liquor on her breath.
"I don't understand."
"Really?... What's so complicated?"
And She raises an eyebrow as She finds herself lacking in an answer.
Dark eyes falling back to the baby blanket that lies on the floor, She takes in a harsh breath as she spies patches of mould and decay, before clenching her lashes shut and shaking her head.
When She opens them again, She is met with nothing but virginal white; painstakingly cared for over the years.
Sighing, She looks back up at the blonde, who perches on the table in front of her; primping the short pleats of her uniform.
In the girl's other hand, she holds a cracked mug carrying the heavy scent of whisky.
"...Did he tell you to take your top off, Emma?"
"Who?"
"You know who."
"Do I? I don't even know where we are..."
The girl shrugs- with no apparent concern for this fact- and She blinks as she takes in the familiar decadence of her reign suddenly surrounding them.
"You were going to let him use you..."
She growls; keeping her posture carefully straight so as to keep her crown in place.
Green eyes regard her curiously atop filthy rags, and the blonde cocks her head contemplatively but offers no response other than to step forth when she is beckoned.
"Why are we here?"
"I can't answer that, Regina."
"Regina? A little informal, don't you think!?"
She snarls; lashing out impulsively and digging in cruel nails at the girl's throat.
"Madame Mayor."
The blonde rectifies raspily, although She knows that that's not quite right either, except...
Dark coals glitter with confusion as green eyes water in return; scarlet manicure digging into pale flesh as the She- the Mayor- regards the young blonde sat dutifully beside her at her desk.
A singular bead of blood falls down onto the pretty, white collar of the girl's shirt- bought for her so that she might have something suitable to wear while on the job- and sharp nails retract instantly; full lips pulled into a maw of disquiet
"I'm sorry..."
"What for?"
"You're bleeding..."
"Not as bad as last time-"
"-No! don't speak of that-"
"-You could have used the knife-"
"-No-"
"-Yes. You could. Look."
And She looks down at her free hand to find her fingers clutching the hilt of the blade.
"Why are you doing this?!"
"Doing what?... Regina, I'm not even really here..."
The girl points out patiently.
"But..."
"The question is, Madame Mayor, why are you doing this?"
"... What do you want?"
"You know the answer to that."
"I was just... I was only trying to help you..."
"Yes."
"But I... What you want... It's... It's not right!"
"Why not? I want to thank you."
"But-"
"-I only want to make you happy..."
Emerald sincerity accenting alabaster flesh, and She licks her lips in approval as her eyes trail bare, sinewy limbs, before flickering up to the plastic barrettes marring messy curls and the sporadic freckles dappling fading bruises.
"It's wrong..."
"Why?"
"I..."
But She finds She doesn't really know, and so She simply leans back against the fine upholstery of her throne and pulls the girl into her- fingers getting caught within cornsilk tresses knotted with childish accessories- and tastes her deeply as her eyes flicker to a desk that has no business standing within her private Palace quarters, littered with stacks of books, and an ancient, yellow-eyed cat.
Fluffing her hair in the mirror, the Mayor tells herself irritably that she doesn't look as exhausted as she feels.
Tells herself to pull her thoughts firmly back under control.
Forbids herself for thinking upon the fact that she had awoken this morning for the second time with her hand between her legs and her mind clouded with hazy depictions of the troublesome young girl she'd brought to town.
"What is wrong with you?!"
She scolds her mirrored image, and dark eyes reflect back, marred with uncertainty.
She sighs; deciding that she might take a break from tradition and enjoy breakfast in the peace and quiet of her own home this morning.
She has no wish to see Emma any earlier- or for any longer- than she has to.
"But, I've always gone for coffee at the Diner..."
True. And she imagines that in not doing so, she may arouse suspicion.
Really? Who would care?
No one- she sighs irritably- but, questions might be raised. Johanna might wonder, as might the ditzy little waitress.
"This is ridiculous."
She mutters, but even as she does so, she pulls on her summer jacket and raises a hand as she spies the ageing redhead trudging up the drive.
"Morning, Madame Mayor."
"Good morning, Johanna."
"Supposed to rain later, did you hear?"
"Is it? Well, I suppose it's about time."
"Gosh yes, and we could use a little water for the plants! My petunias have all but-"
"-Johanna, dear, you will have to tell me about your flowers some other time."
"Oh, right, of course, breakfast. Excuse me."
"Not at all. I simply-"
"-Like to stick to routine."
The older woman smiles, and Regina nods stiffly.
"I try to."
"Madame Mayor."
"Miss Lucas."
The darker woman acknowledges as the young brunette approaches her table.
"I'll go get Emma-"
"-Why? Are you incapable of doing your job all of a sudden?"
"No. I just thought..."
"You thought what?"
Regina snaps, and the waitress shrugs uncomfortably, before pulling out her order pad- despite knowing she won't need it- and quietly inquiring what the Mayor might like.
Pursing her lips as she shoos Ruby away with her usual request, the darker woman sighs as she spots the blonde sauntering in her direction with a sunny grin.
"Why must you insist on-"
She grumbles beneath her breath, but she stills as Dr Whale raises a hand to herald Emma's attention, and the blonde turns to tend to him with a small shrug.
She watches out of the corner of her eye as Emma chatters amiably- well, that's progress- with the doctor, and licks her lips unintentionally as she studies touseled curls; her fingers twitching with the memory of being plunged into that thick gold in her dream.
Whale says something with a shaking of his head, and the Emma chuckles appreciatively; sharp teeth bared in a grin and Regina looks swiftly away.
Looks away before she can contemplate the younger woman's attractiveness a moment longer.
"I mean, really!"
She mutters angrily; blaming Emma's recent queer mannerisms for this sudden confusion.
She sighs a breath of relief when the blonde turns back for the kitchens, and disappears in a flash of pale legs.
...What do you want?
You know the answer to that...
Yes, she believes she might. She has been blind to such things for perhaps longer than she ought to have been, but she believes finally understands the curious signs Emma has attempted to throw her way.
Perhaps.
Frowning, she supposes she still clings to the fleeting hope that she is merely misreading the younger woman's intentions with her sometimes bizarre comments and behaviour.
Lest she be required to think upon her own feelings towards the proposed situation.
"It's ridiculous."
She sniffs resolutely.
Yes... But she finds herself biting at her tongue lightly when Emma hurries back out with the doctor's coffee; a smile stretched across lips that she remembers tasting strangely sweet in her dream.
"Stop that."
"Hey!"
"Good morning."
"You cheated on me."
"... Excuse me?"
The brunette frowns, and Emma laughs lightly as she enters the darker woman's office with twin paper cups held in her hands.
"You've been my best customer all week! Then this morning I'm snubbed for Ruby!"
Pretty teeth flash in a grin, and Regina finds herself baring her own teeth uncomfortably.
"I-"
"-Never mind. I brought us some seconds- thirds for me- so I guess I can fill the void."
Emma winks as she passes over hot coffee, and Regina glances down at the cup held in her hand thoughtfully, before looking up at the blonde intently.
"Miss Swan... What exactly is going on here?"