A/N: A requested, lighthearted, flirtatious piece for a friend that wanted something along the lines of my STRIP POKER story. I spent several years at boarding school, so these sorts for fic are always fun for me to take a stab at! :p This is- tentatively- set at the end of the last season after Henry breaks the pen and they find their way back to Storybrooke out of the Author's book, but before Dark Swan/ more drama. The timing isn't super important, but I wanted to experiment with working with a later series, mostly because of the increased sense of camaraderie these two have and shared experiences.
Hope you enjoy and comments would be awesome! :D
Making her way up the stairs to the school teacher's apartment, Regina knocks just once before letting herself in. She'd spied the lights on inside from the street, and has become such a regular visitor that she feels no guilt in crossing the threshold uninvited.
Not that that was ever really an issue...
No. But these days the Charmings don't take issue with her decisive and sometimes bossy ways either. Not for the most part, anyway.
She's come here to give Mary Margaret a couple of documents pertaining to the running of the school, having found them in the mess of the drawers in her office that have suffered disarray due to the strange exchange of power back and forth between herself and Snow. Ordinarily, she is not in the habit of relinquishing control- whether it's her name above the door or not- but, for the sake of deciding who should be first alerted if one of the water fountains begins leaking, she's more than okay with handing over that particular burden.
And good riddance!
As it is, it's not Snow that she finds sat perched up at the kitchen island but Emma, who glances around at her swiftly as she lets herself in and sighs
"Why bother knocking at all if you're going to do that?"
Regina pays her annoyance little mind as she strips herself of her coat, hangs it up on the door, and generally makes herself at home.
"You haven't even begun getting up. I might have died of old age before you bothered answering the door."
"Hmm. Sadly, I think it would take a little more than that."
"Sadly?"
The brunette hisses, and she raises a brow challengingly at Emma who simply sips from her glass and maintains easy eye contact as the darker woman attempts to stare her down.
Oh, I miss the days when I instilled at least a little fear in the woman.
"Were you looking for me?"
Emma asks, unfazed by the electric intensity of the Mayor's gaze. There had been a time when those looks had made the breath in her lungs catch and ache as she'd felt almost paralysed, but the wariness with which she had once met the darker woman has dissipated into a strange breed of amusement.
The other reason she'd sometimes felt a little breathless when locked with Regina in a silent duel is something that still remains, but she refuses- as she has always done- to think about it all too much.
"For you? No. I came to give these to Mary Margaret."
Regina explains, pulling the papers out of a neat folder she's had clutched to her side and leaving them on the table in the corner.
"What are they?"
"Nothing of any interest to you, dear."
The brunette states smoothly, and upon concluding that she reads Regina's dismissal of the papers as entirely genuine, Emma ignores them in favour of frowning down at her glass which is just a sip away from empty.
"Well that happened without any warning. Do you want one? Mary Margaret's out on the school camping trip thing, same as Henry. I thought you'd have known."
"Hm. Slipped my mind."
The Mayor snaps; never appreciating the blonde painting her in a less than perfect light, no matter how many situations the two have now faced together. For one, it goes completely against the role she believes she plays in their relationship: the ravishing wit and the idiot. For another... It has just always bothered her to make a mess of things in front of Emma. Something to do with the blonde's eyes. There is an iciness there as well as tentative complexity and she has always presumed that the younger woman is one who remembers almost everything, whether she bothers commenting on it or not.
"Mine too."
Emma admits when she senses the flustered agitation behind the brunette's reply.
I was kind of confused coming down to a tent drying over the sofa this morning, and mom walking around in what I'm going to presume are David's waterproofs. At least I would, apart from I have no clue why a coma patient would have waterproofs, and we never needed them when dealing with Ursula."
"Don't worry, I'm sure one of your foolish ideas will end up in us all needing them and whatever other ridiculous articles to go alongside."
"Hey, it's not always my ideas!"
"Not always, no."
Regina smirks, and Emma offers her a weary sigh as she fetches another glass down from the cupboard above the counter and pours them each a couple of fingers of whisky.
"I'm surprised you're not helping out, Sheriff. I would have thought Snow might need an extra pair of hands, what with taking a hoard of prepubescents out into the woods."
"And that description is exactly why I decided that it was more David's brand of Sheriffing than mine. I'm busy manning the fort here."
She conspires, knocking back a good third of her drink and smiling wickedly.
"Yes, I can see that."
Regina muses silkily as she notes the beginnings of alcohol induced blush colouring the blonde's pale cheeks tellingly.
"Anyway, Robin is out helping too, so far as I know."
The blonde cocks her head with a slight inflexion to her tone.
"He is, yes. He's quite useful that way."
The brunette goads and green eyes roll as Emma shakes her head and regards the dwindling bottle of Mackinlay's pensively.
"I'd accept your thinly-veiled bait there, but as Hook's out with that drunken knave guy, I doubt 'useful' comes into play. I've actually refrained from asking all too much about it in fear of having to take up my own brand of Sheriffing..."
She wrinkles her nose.
"I would think that might be wise, Miss Swan... Your decision to turn a blind eye in this instance, anyway. As for your insistence on dating the pirate, I could think of other words."
"I know. You use them frequently."
Emma grumbles, but not without a little helping of amusement. In all honesty, she has grown to look forward to these odd exchanges with the brunette; Regina once quite literally her mortal enemy, and now- through some bizarre concoction of circumstance and fate- someone that she has come to (privately!) consider her best friend. She would guess that the Mayor sees things similarly, as the brunette has made it a habit to show up at the Station with no discernable reason any time she knows the blonde might be slogging through a graveyard shift and Henry is spending the night with the Charmings. With the way things are in town at the moment, graveyard shifts are something for which there is no real need, but, Regina imagines the blonde understands that calling it 'work' rather than 'necessity' eases the blow of occasionally having to catch a break from her parents.
"Any luck with finding your own place? There are only about a dozen houses standing empty and available after all."
She asks, and she chuckles knowingly at the glower Emma throws her. It's not something that the younger woman has openly discussed with her- the bearing of her soul and emotions not really Emma's style for the most part- but she imagines the main reason the blonde has failed to pack up and move out as she had been keen to do originally has a lot to do with Hook and with Henry.
More so with Hook.
If she moves out, that opens the door- so to speak- to the two of them moving in together.
Regina sometimes wonders if the pirate has clued in on this also and has any thoughts as to Emma's sudden surprising reluctance to put anything into motion.
She almost mentions this to the blonde but ends up biting her tongue. This is her first drink to match Emma's fourth or fifth by the looks of things, and as much as she sometimes misses riling the blonde up, she doesn't want to initiate that kind of argument. Emma is fun when she's hot and bothered- surely there are other ways to think of it?- but the kind of argument that would result from prying into her love-life would be the stony, silent, avoidant type and she has no taste for getting into any of that again. Mostly because Emma can pull off Ice Queen better than she can herself- her own breed of irritation the kind that usually needs to erupt openly- and she hates being bested. But partly, also, because she really does quite enjoy the blonde's company, and spoiling it with an undercurrent of tension seems a waste.
Ah, but there has always been tension. Always. Even now, sat across from her. I don't entirely know why it's there and what it stems from, but I know enough to be sure that she feels it too. It has always been safest for us to feign ignorance on that particular matter, and I would guess she's avoided delving deeper just as I have myself. We work well together, and each of us is finally happy. To acknowledge what I think that strange undertow might be- what I had once begun slowly understanding it might all come down to- that would be dangerous...
Not to mention the very notion of anything like... That... is, of course, entirely absurd.
"These chairs are terrible."
She muses breezily, showing no hint of the rather alarming thoughts she refuses to entertain any further in her mind.
"Well, if you didn't insist on sitting like you have a stick up your ass, Your Majesty-"
"-I'm sitting the exact same way you are. Sorry to ruin whatever schpiel you had cooking, dear. I'm complaining because they're uncomfortable. It has nothing to do with how I sit."
Regina snaps, and Emma laughs darkly before admitting defeatedly
"I'd carry on, but they actually are kind of numbing after a while. Want to take this someplace more comfortable?"
She asks with a tilt of her jaw towards the sofa, and the brunette's brow furrows as it's the younger woman's insistence to word things the way she does that had led her towards some of the thoughts she absolutely doesn't have about Emma in the first place.
"So long as it doesn't smell like tent."
She replies breezily.
"Tell me, what does 'tent' smell like, Regina?"
Emma grins.
"Your attic. Which, having been up in your bedroom, was close enough to smell the damp."
"My room doesn't smell of damp. And anyway, when were you up there?!"
"With Henry, I think. After you went off on one of your little panic attacks pertaining to whatever was bothering you that particular week."
Regina explains after a moment of racking her brains, but she catches the way Emma narrows her eyes as she takes a seat beside her on the sofa and supposes perhaps that had been a little low.
"Says the woman who cast a curse to end all curses because she was annoyed at a child."
The blonde murmurs.
Ah yes. Fortunately, she can also dish it out.
"Let's stop this now before it gets out of hand."
Regina suggests wearily, and to her surprise, Emma laughs as she pulls her knees up in front of her and covers them with a hideous crocheted blanket.
"Seconded... Man, can you imagine what it would have been like if I'd had magic when I'd actually hated you? It would have been carnage!"
"Did you really hate me?"
Regina asks with a frown, more curious than anything else. Emma has diplomatically stated a couple of times that 'the past is the past' and that she understands their differing viewpoints, but this is the first time the brunette has ever heard that she might have been hated.
"Well, no. Not exactly... I hated being around you because you treated me like shit, and you would be thinking of ways to treat me even worse in the middle of doing it!"
"... At times, yes."
"But I guess I didn't hate you. If anything, I kind of enjoyed it sometimes, the way you were. That sounds weird, I know, but... I went through this long period of time where I wouldn't get passionate about anything. Stuff would happen with my job, and in my life, and I just didn't really react, I guess. On the surface, I did a little, but I wasn't really all that bothered by anything much because I just didn't care. Then, when you and I started going head to head, I found that I could be passionate. It mattered to me; trying to best you."
She smirks, and the brunette raises a brow but smiles back just the same.
"Well, you really were quite an impressive thorn in my side, I will give you that."
"Thanks."
"Oh no, thank you, dear. I am thrilled to have ignited your passion, Miss Swan."
Regina goads wickedly, and her better judgement begs of her why she feels this is a good idea, but whisky is not usually her drink, and the younger woman has always had a way of making her reckless. Emma simply snorts appreciatively, coughing on her drink as she regards the brunette with watering eyes.
"Seriously. The stuff you sometimes say to me. An outsider might think..."
"... An outsider might think what?"
Regina asks cautiously, sipping from own glass, and the blonde shakes her impressive mane and reaches over for the bottle she'd placed on the coffee table in front of them.
"Never mind. But go on. As we're sharing. How much did you actually hate me? Tell me the truth."
"You have to ask? I would have thought the attempted poisoning might speak volumes."
"Oh yeah... You know, you never did apologise for that? But anyway, that's not really what I meant. You hated me because I was the Saviour. And because of Henry... How much did you actually hate me though, just for who I am, not those other things?"
Contemplating her whisky thoughtfully, Regina tips it back and pours herself another, feeling a little uncomfortable as the younger woman regards her intently.
Not to mention, the woman has her damned knees digging into my ribs.
"Well... You said you wanted the truth?... I suppose the truth is I never really gave much thought to who you were as a person. Oh, I found you rude and obnoxious. I found you uncouth and wickedly sly. But I never spent any energy on trying to understand you. I just wanted you gone. I used what little knowledge I had and just picked out the parts that could be turned against you. As for what any of it meant, I would be lying if I said I cared... I hated you. All of you. But I didn't really know you at all. The idea seemed terribly loathsome at the time."
The brunette finishes, and Emma nods as she takes this all in with a pensive expression but no hint of anger or hurt.
"Either way. Clairvoyance is not something you have shown a knack for, and your super power is hilarious at best. You're asking the truth from the Evil Queen. I wouldn't think too deeply on any of it."
Regina sniffs dismissively, feeling just a little uneasy with her rather unfavourable admission.
"You're not the Evil Queen anymore."
The younger woman reasons cooly.
"I was at the time, and I can tap into that now when irritating blondes embark on physical abuse."
"Huh?"
Emma frowns, and Regina pushes the Sheriff's knees out from the curve of her ribs with a dramatic huff. The blonde simply curls up at a different angle, this time with her hip pressing against the Mayor's on the rather cosy sofa, but the brunette says nothing.
"I don't know, Regina. So far as believing that you're telling me the truth, that all seemed pretty buyable to me. Though, you're right. I suppose 'Evil you' would make a terrible opponent for truth or dare."
The blonde grins.
"Truth or dare?"
the Mayor asks, her brow furrowed as she fails to recognise the term.
"You know, the game."
"If I knew, would I be asking you with an air of confusion?"
"Regina, you use airs for everything! Truth or dare is a game kids play... Well, and drunken people. One person gets asked if they would rather be asked a truth or a dare, and the other person then either asks them a question or makes them do something according to their choice. When I was fourteen, I pulled half the skin off of the backs of my thighs jumping out of a tree into the lake a couple of us used to go to. I made the lake- fortunately- but didn't account for the branch a couple of feet below the one I was sat in."
"Why on earth would you jump out of a tree?!"
"Because I was dared to..."
Emma explains slowly, as though talking to an imbecile. The brunette regards her pointedly, feeling that the blonde's disdain is ill-placed for one who has just admitted to jumping from a tree at idle request.
"And that's fun, is it?"
She asks waspishly, and the younger woman sighs as she leans back into the curve of the sofa and nurses her drink.
"It is when you play with someone that's not such a fucking buzzkill."
Prickling at this and pondering the sweet burn of the whisky, Regina tosses her hair back and moves around so that she faces Emma directly; her knees now mirroring the cosy tuck of the blonde's.
"Fine. Try me."
"Hmm... I don't know, Regina. I was more just explaining what it was. I don't think you-"
"-I would think my decision to play or not would be mine."
The brunette snaps, and Emma considers this for a moment before grinning with a 'your funeral' shrug of her shoulders. The Mayor smirks back, recognising the familiar fire flickering between them with a curious sense of anticipation. She likes being around the blonde when she's like this; when she balances on the edge between being cheeky and playing by the rules. It's a side to Emma that she has earned, as strange as that might seem to anyone outside of their little bubble. She knows it's something the pirate has picked up on occasionally, although she's unsure whether Emma is aware of it herself. Similarly, she has felt a queer sense of guilt now and then when in the presence of both Robin and the blonde, as she's beginning to think that he feels it, too.
They play off of one another, that's the only way she can describe it.
They... Well, they feed off each other. She can describe it that way too...
"Fine. Do you want to start?"
Emma asks amiably, seemingly unburdened by deeper thought over their cosy little exchange.
"It's your game."
Regina points out; not usually one for handing over control, but nor does she like to go into a situation blind.
"Okay. Truth or dare?"
"Well, knowing what I know about you, dear, I would have to say truth..."
"Hmm... Okay... Was Graham's death really an accident?"
The blonde asks after a brief pause while she comes up with a suitable question.
"... I thought you said this was a game? It doesn't seem like it will be all that fun..."
The Queen bristles uncomfortably.
"Well, I was hoping you'd pick a dare... But you have to answer."
Emma insists with a small smile.
"Do I? What if I pass?"
"You can't pass. You have to tell, those are the rules."
"Hmm. I see no way that you could force me... This game might have been a little more fun in the Enchanted Forest- a potion for truth and another for cooperation- then those would really be the rules..."
"I think I'd rather play with full control of my body, I'm afraid."
"And your mouth?"
"... Yeah."
Emma nods after a moment's pause, wishing she could stop Regina's strange- and extremely suggestive at times, what is with that?- way of wording things from getting to her as it often does. Studying the full pout of the Mayor's painted lips, she blinks when the brunette interrupts her wary confusion with a quiet admission.
"I had Graham's heart, just as the book said. It's not something I'm proud of, nor do I wish to discuss the matter further. I'm not that person anymore."
"Oh... No, I know you're not. I just always wondered after what Henry said, but... It never seemed like something I would be wise to ask, you know, once I got to know the truth about everything else and how what should be insanity is pretty much sane in this town. "
The blonde shrugs uncomfortably, and Regina nods- actually a little surprised that the younger woman hasn't demanded an answer to sate her curiosity sooner now that she thinks about it- and continues quietly
"I'm sorry. For what I did, but also because I know you liked him... Of course, that's also why I did it."
"To spite me?"
"To spite you, and because I was jealous."
The brunette conspires truthfully, and the words hang between them awkwardly as the blonde is becoming increasingly aware that the sofa they share is really rather small. Clearing her throat, Emma speaks up in response to the Queen's admission.
"...I know it's not my turn yet, but I also know if I'd told you at the time, you never would have believed me. Graham and I... We didn't... We didn't do what you guys were doing, put it that way. I'm not saying there wasn't any interest, but for me, he was mostly someone I saw as a friend in a town where I was struggling to get a handle on stuff."
"The way he walked off with you that night suggested more."
Regina sniffs, and the blonde nods slowly before replying cautiously
"Yeah, I guess it did, and I guess I let it... I knew where he stood with things; I knew he liked me, and I knew he'd take my side. I was pissed. Really fucking pissed at you, Regina, and when I get angry, I tend to deal with it in one of several ways. You've seen most of them... I guess the way I felt like dealing with it that night is a side you've been spared."
Emma laughs a little awkwardly
"But, what might have happened that night? That was more because of you than because of Graham."
The blonde finishes with a shrug.
"I see."
Regina replies quietly, not sure what to do with that information, nor the way her mind seems intent on processing it.
"My turn."
Emma prompts to dispel the tension, and the brunette nods as she sips from her glass and licks her lips before imploring
"Truth or dare?"
"Dare."
"Hmm..."
The Mayor hesitates, looking around the small apartment dubiously. She has no clue what to tell the younger woman to do as she isn't a teenager or young boy intent on feeding their companion distasteful things found outside.
"I don't know... I don't exactly yearn to watch you plunge off of anything, curious as that might sound given our history."
"Think!"
Emma urges, and the brunette racks her brains a little uncomfortably. She hasn't played before, but a simple understanding of human nature has her accepting that this is a game either for the very young or those with an objective. So far as she can see, the purpose of the dare is either to harm, embarrass or... Well... See a little more of someone. The fact that the thought has entered her mind at all is something that causes her uncharacteristic disquiet, and she eyes the low V of the blonde's sweater with blood rushing to her cheeks. Averting her eyes, her full lips break into a wicked smile as she swaps her attention from distracting cashmere to red leather.
"The jacket. Burn the jacket."
"Hell no!"
"Your rules, Emma..."
She reminds the Sheriff, although she supposes they both know she wouldn't force the blonde to go through with this particular request. The thing is hideous- truly obscene- but she knows enough about Emma to understand that her jacket is one of the few items she owns that is of significant sentimental value to her.
Still, it's fun watching her squirm.
"Not doing it. That's way over the line."
The younger woman growls stubbornly.
"There's a line? You never mentioned a line while explaining the rules..."
Regina smirks.
"Okay, well, here's another rule I didn't explain; you can forfeit."
"Oh yes?... Hmm... Seems a bit of a cop-out, dear."
The Mayor teases; knowing she's pushing all the right buttons to rile up her opponent, and enjoying the fact immensely.
"Look, you let me choose what I wanted, and I chose dare. So, forfeiting to truth is kind of a punishment for me if you think about it."
Emma reasons.
"I don't know... I've thought about punishing you plenty, Miss Swan, but this fails to whet my appetite."
Regina retorts smartly, avoiding the blonde's gaze when the younger woman raises a brow and eyes her curiously following this flippant admission.
"Yeah... Well... It's what's on offer. Give me a truth."
"Alright."
The brunette sighs, once more meeting the blonde's green stare pensively as she decides just how best to use her newly appointed power. Her first thought- and this is a sure sign of how their relationship has changed- is that she doesn't want to pry anywhere that might hurt the younger woman. That said, she supposes Emma had asked her about Graham, which had been a little intense and uncomfortable to say the least.
"What happened?"
"When?"
"When you and Hook went into the book and started messing around in there. You told me you met me as I was back then. You told me I'd 'gone Evil Queen' on you. You didn't tell me anything else, and I'm curious as to why... I suppose I also wonder what you made of all that. Of me. You asked me what I thought about you, and now I'm asking you the same."
"Oh... Well, it's not really the same. Not exactly. I liked you plenty by that point, so it was more seeing the negative but knowing the positive than the other way around."
"You're being nice. I asked for the truth."
Regina scolds dismissively.
"Yeah, okay. Truth is, you were a total bitch to me."
Emma growls, and the brunette laughs appreciatively as she can well imagine this to be the case.
"Well, what does that tell you? I had no clue who you were and still you irked me."
She teases.
"You seemed 'irked' by life, more than just me!"
The blonde counters with her own wry grin, which falters a little as she gathers herself in order to answer the darker woman's question properly.
"I told you about what happened with Snow..."
"... Yes."
"That was bad. Really bad. Before that, it was kind of amusing in a 'this could all go so wrong if I don't get out of here' way. Only because it was so strange talking to you when you weren't really you... What you made me do wasn't all that funny, though."
"What did I make you do?"
Regina asks cautiously; knowing how she had once been and a little concerned over what Emma might be about to tell her.
"You made me kneel for you."
Emma confides with a dark glower, and the brunette's eyes widen at the mental image and she chokes on her drink at the sheer thought.
"That should have been my dare!"
"Oh, shut up."
Emma snarls and the Mayor licks her lips subconsciously but says nothing more.
"You had your guards take me down into the dungeons after you took away the fancy ball stuff Rumple gave me."
The blonde explains, but when she mutters something about Marion, Regina barely hears her. She's more focused on the deep blush that colours Emma's cheeks in reference to the taking of her dress, and she wants to ask- can ask, it's her go after all, but she doesn't quite dare- just what the circumstances of that change of costume had been. The uncomfortable lowering of otherwise cool green eyes leaves her pretty sure of who it had been in charge of disrobing the blonde and she averts her own eyes momentarily as she pours herself another whisky.
She finds she suddenly needs it.
"Ok, my turn."
Emma interrupts, and the brunette glances back up and relishes the slightly flustered look the younger woman has taken on, presumably both due to uncomfortable recollection and the strength of the whisky they are doing quite a job on.
"Truth or dare?"
The blonde proposes, meeting her eyes easily and allowing the Mayor private consideration of the way her pupils have blown out.
"Dare."
Regina purrs, aware that she leans in a little to play her part of the tangible atmosphere between them.
"Hmm... Hold out your drink."
"If you spit in it-"
"-I'm not going to spit in it!"
"... You're definitely the type."
"Oh, definitely. But for now, you're safe."
Emma promises with a sly grin, and she waits for Regina to hold out her drink apprehensively and pours her own glass into the brunette's until the amber liquid reaches the brim."
"Knock it back."
She orders, and the Mayor looks down at the considerable amount of whisky in her hand and back up at Emma dubiously.
"That seems like a really bad idea..."
"Well, according to you, I'm full of them. And anyway, it's only fair- I'm way ahead of you."
"Yes, because you choose to sit on your own and get slowly inebriated!"
Regina snaps, and the blonde refuses to rise to the bait as she sarks back easily
"I do, yes, and now I'm telling you to become quickly inebriated."
"Why? How is that even a fun dare?"
"I guess I must just want to get you drunk, Regina."
Emma grins. A wicked grin; promising something, but what, the Mayor isn't quite sure. It's a pretty grin though, and she has the overwhelming urge to reach forward and push back an errant strand of hair that tickles the blonde's cheek.
Getting a hold of herself, she tips back the whisky as asked; shuddering visibly as it burns down her throat. She gets almost half the glass down in her first swallow, and she regards the rest with watering eyes before glancing at Emma briefly.
Pleadingly.
"All of it."
The blonde insists, but she laughs lightly and gives the Mayor a moment to pull herself together before finishing the glass.
"Oh, that goes down strong."
The brunette laments, feeling a little dazed as her tongue burns in a way that isn't wholly unpleasant.
"It does."
Emma agrees, refilling her own glass and sipping at it leisurely as she watches Regina try and get her breath back.
"All good?"
She smirks, and the brunette throws her a dirty look before reaching out without warning and nudging the younger woman's glass as she drinks. Emma yelps in surprise as Regina causes a quick river of dangerous amber to course down her throat; both in the way she'd likely intended- choking her on it- and spilling down in thin freshets to splatter her clavicles.
"Regina!"
Emma coughs, and the brunette shows her teeth wickedly while inwardly surprised at herself that she's instigated such horseplay at all.
"You've got some on your jaw."
"I've got some all over me! What was that for?!"
The blonde cries, although she can't dispel the electric excitement that has her wanting to get the brunette back and make her pay for her little trick.
"I can think of so many, many reasons..."
The Mayor muses, watching Emma wipe away spilt liquor and wondering if she should help her out when a missed streak glistens prettily in the hollow of her throat. She meets the blonde's dark look easily and holds her there for what is really too long to still be considered polite.
"It's your turn."
She reminds quietly.
"Truth or dare, Emma?"
"Dare."
The younger woman answers with a defiant raising of her jaw.
"Are you sure?"
"Leave the jacket out of it and I can handle you, Regina."
Emma nods brazenly.
"As you wish... Kiss me."