Regina stands in the doorway of the blonde's bedroom, finding she is completely unsurprised by everything presented in the scene before her. Emma's parka is strewn across the floor like a fur-cuffed corpse, falling over and under her muddy boots. The small room smells of peaty whisky, mingled with the much sweeter smell of, well, the Sheriff herself. Her gun sits forgotten on a small bedside table, and the woman in question lies propped up in bed- of course still wearing her filthy, ruined clothes from the woods- with her eyes shut.
The Mayor knows better than presume her to be asleep as the music blaring from Emma's headphones is loud enough for her to be able to hear it relatively clearly from where she stands at the threshold. She briefly contemplates simply launching herself at the blonde to delight in the shock sure to cross the younger woman's face, but decides this is too childish an act. In fact, she imagines it to be something the Sheriff would pride herself on doing.
Instead she flicks the light switch on and off a few times; the erratic light bleeding through the thin skin of her lids causing the blonde's eyes to flutter open instantly. Upon seeing who her unexpected guest is, her mouth, too, falls open in surprise. She pulls the headphones away and switches off her mp3.
"Good evening, Miss Swan."
"Regina... What are you doing here?"
Good question.
"Well, dear, as you ask; I have just spent the best part of the evening scrubbing at my son's jeans- which are ruined, by the way- before battling him into a hot bath and cleaning up the numerous cuts and scrapes-"
"-Look, like I said, it was an accident! You don't think I feel bad the kid fell!? You think you can just come round here and-"
Regina holds up a hand to silence the blonde; her expression easily mistakable for disdain, but there is an undertone of sweetness to be found in the words which follow so strange, the younger woman seems not to know how to respond.
"-which were simply crawling with dirt. Now, I haven't come here to do your laundry, Miss Swan, nor do I plan on running you a bath, but I had a feeling that you would lack the good sense to see to your injuries, and as this town has just the one Sheriff- who has so far failed to secure herself a Deputy- it would seem prudent she take slightly better care of herself."
Emma opens and closes her mouth, searching for an answer (or at the very least; a sensical retort). She glances down at her knees distractedly, begrudging their dirt-bloodied state. She wishes she'd changed into sweatpants upon returning home; thus saving herself this awkwardness, but as it is, she doesn't have much in the way of argument towards the Mayor.
Regina takes the blonde's silence as invitation and struts authoritatively into her room to perch delicately on the edge of the bed.
Green eyes search her face, and the brunette follows suit before pulling a small bundle from her handbag that the Sheriff recognizes, after a moment's scrutiny, to be a first aid kit. Emma raises an eyebrow, the left corner of her mouth twitching in amusement. Her mirth is quickly dampened when dark coals flicker up to meet her gaze and the Mayor begins to unwrap the items she imagines she will need.
"If you would take your jeans off, dear"
"You can't be serious!"
Regina glances back up at the blonde and takes in the indignant blush that creeps across her cheeks. She licks her bottom lip curiously, not sure whether it is her request that the Sheriff should undress, or simply the fact that she has caught the younger woman idly ignoring her injuries that sparks Emma's incredulous response. Deciding it doesn't really matter, she simply waits; knowing that her ominous presence so close to the blonde will demand her eventual compliance.
"Well, how else would you propose we do this?"
"I don't propose we do anything! I'm a grown woman and perfectly capable of looking after myself!"
"The state of your knees would suggest otherwise."
"It's just a few grazes, Regina!... I'm fine."
This last part is quieter, kinder, and she shrugs awkwardly at the darker woman. The Mayor sighs, rolling her eyes in a way similar to that in which she rolls them at Henry when he is being particularly stubborn.
"I'm sure you are, dear, but I doubt obstinacy alone will immunize you against infection... Now... Please..."
She gestures with a well-manicured hand towards the Sheriff's dirty jeans, and after a moment's irritable hesitation, Emma gets up from the bed with a sigh and pulls her sweatshirt up just enough to work her fingers deftly at her belt buckle.
The jeans are baggy- not reminiscent of the blonde's usual style- and their removal requires none of the salacious hip wiggling the Mayor has grown accustomed to. Regina muses upon this as the Sheriff kicks the ruined denim from her feet. She supposes it sets the tone for their current situation; there is nothing sexual in the way Emma presents herself today, and the brunette imagines there are still some ill feelings from the night before. Glancing briefly about the room, she spots the ridiculously high heels the younger woman had stalked out on in the early hours of the morning- their soles visibly caked with mud- and she sighs once again as the bedsprings groan with the blonde's weight as she clambers back into place on top of her uncharacteristically feminine bedding.
It's a good thing this little scene is so devoid of sexual tension as there is no way anything is about to transpire on top of that sickeningly girlish repeat pattern of snowdrops; the paisley print practically screams 'Mary Margaret'.
In spite of such thoughts, Regina allows her gaze to travel the pale expanse of the Sheriff's bare legs; throwing an appreciative glance towards simple, black bikini briefs that contrast prettily with the younger woman's fair skin. She runs her hand up the slender shin that rests closest to her, but finishes the gesture by simply propping Emma's leg up at a more accessible angle and assessing the damage to her knee.
"God, woman, what the hell did you do?"
She frowns at the bloodied, broken flesh; tearing open an antiseptic wipe neatly with her teeth. Emma peers down at her injuries curiously, prodding at one of the uglier looking cuts with her finger.
"Yes, poking at it with your dirty fingers, that's sure to help!"
Regina taps the blonde's hands away fussily and begins to rub at the damaged skin with the wipe, applying gentle pressure and swiping methodically. The Sheriff lets out a quiet hiss through gritted teeth as the bite of the alcohol stings cruelly, but keeps her leg obediently in position.
"I don't know, I think I probably dragged my legs across a branch or something as we fell."
"It looks like it. You've done quite an impressive job here; you'll be lucky if you don't end up with a scar or two... Henry said you were building a tree house?"
"Yeah."
"Aren't you a little old to be climbing around like a lunatic?"
"I wasn't building it for me..."
Emma mutters sourly at the brunette, wondering just how much truth lies within this statement.
She points to a small trashcan at the end of the bed as the wipe the Mayor uses to clean her knee has become orange with blood and dirt-stained. Regina leans over to discard the soiled wipe- her breath breezing momentarily against the wet flesh at the blonde's knee, turing the alcoholic residue instantly cold- and glimpses the numerous cans and bottles that take residence in the black trashcan. She raises an eyebrow at the Sheriff who glares back at her challengingly.
Deciding against commenting on the can's contents- although some really quite exemplary quips about distilleries and recycling plants spring to mind- the brunette opts instead to simply offer the younger woman a knowing smirk before spraying her knee with an aerosol of Savlon.
"Shit!"
Emma jerks her leg back roughly; accidentally kicking the Mayor's forearm with her foot. Regina growls and grabs the offending limb at the ankle and pulls it firmly back into place, wiping away the stray yellow marks that now streak the blonde's shin.
"Really, dear, even Henry doesn't fuss this much."
"I'm not fussing! And Henry probably knows to expect that shit to be fucking freezing! What even is it?!"
The Mayor sighs dramatically and hands the younger woman the canister to clue herself up, gently placing a white patch of gauze over her knee and sticking it neatly in place with some white medi-tape. She covers the patch with a larger waterproof plaster, before pulling up Emma's other leg to repeat the process.
When she gets to the point where she needs to use the Savlon spray once again, the Mayor plucks it from slender fingers and looks up pointedly at the blonde.
"I'm going to spray this now."
Her tone is suitably patronizing, and Emma throws her a withering look causing the brunette to smirk. She coats the younger woman's knee with a fine spray of yellowing antiseptic and patches her up quickly.
"Very fetching."
She expects a grumbled retort as the blonde really does look quite sorry for herself with her bandaged knees, but the Sheriff offers her a coy wink and a small smile. Regina rolls her eyes with an irritation she doesn't actually feel before kneeling up on the bed and taking the younger woman's chin in her hand. She is acutely aware of the way Emma tenses up at this new, more intimate contact, and glances briefly into green eyes. She can't quite read the expression that lingers behind sooty lashes, but she recognizes the wary pull to the Sheriff's mouth easily and gently uses her fingers to coax the blonde's head to the side; making her intent clear.
"This is pretty nasty cut, Sheriff."
"It doesn't really hurt."
"It doesn't have to, but I don't like the way it disappears off into your hair... Make sure you wash it tonight."
She runs her finger gently over the reddened flesh surrounding the laceration, her heart beating a little faster then usual as she leans into the younger woman's personal space.
"I will..."
Emma's eyes flicker up to study the Mayor as the brunette remains raised above her; dark eyes glittering tantalizingly and plump bottom lip caught between perfect white teeth. She smiles awkwardly and waits for the older woman to pull back; feeling slightly uncomfortable.
Regina lets her gaze linger on the blonde's lips for a moment longer, before closing her eyes and closing the distance. She makes a disagreeing noise in her throat when slim fingers find her shoulders and gently push her away. Opening her eyes, she regards the Sheriff in confusion; trying to keep the wounded feeling gnawing at her gut from crossing her features.
But this was supposed to make everything okay again. Why can't you see that I'm trying to rectify whatever went wrong last night...
"Emma..."
The younger woman observes the hurt flicker in the Mayor's eyes and smiles apologetically.
"It's not... I'm not... Thank you, for all of this, but... I don't... I have a cold is all"
As if on cue, she coughs chestily, her voice hoarse when she continues.
"This town has just the one Mayor- who fails to allow anyone to offer her guidance- it would seem prudent she didn't go getting herself sick..."
Sharp teeth flash in a lopsided grin and the brunette bites back her own responding smirk, opting instead to flick her hair back airily before she begins fussing over the first aid items sprawled out on Emma's hideous bedspread.
"Yes, well, whose fault is that, Miss Swan, that you should find yourself suffering with a cold?"
"I imagine you're hinting at it being mine?"
"Hmm, well, it's hardly surprising, what with you storming-... Leaving last night without so much as a jacket. Wearing those ridiculous heels to walk all the way back home in... You're lucky a cold is all you got! Honestly, dear, what if you had been approached by someone, dressed like that?"
Emma fights down the contrary surge of anger that floods quickly through her blood, recognising the concern hidden within the disdain dripping from the Mayor's silky tone.
"Unfortunately, I was. Dr Whale is not a man who takes the word 'no' without a great deal of force."
Dark eyes flicker dangerously, the brunette's voice hard with ice.
"Dr Whale approached you?"
"He requested I join him for drinks."
"I see... And did you?"
The blonde stares up at the Mayor incredulously, before rolling her eyes and letting the sarcasm flow hotly from her lips.
"Oh yeah, sure, a man I hardly know came bothering me in the street, and I just couldn't resist the urge to let him take me home and liquor me up before bending me over his couch and fucking me like I was-"
She catches the steel in Regina's eyes and the murderous snarl playing across scarlet lips and throws her hands up in irritable defeat.
"Of course I didn't join him for fucking drinks, Regina!"
She sighs moodily at she watches the hardness in the older woman's face lessen slightly. Cocking her head to the side she regards the brunette curiously, running a long strand of hair silkily through her fingers.
"Why... Would you be jealous?"
Regina splutters before glaring at the Sheriff haughtily, sniffing in her distaste.
"Miss Swan, of the many ways there are to spend an evening; watching you pound back shots while running your filthy mouth is not one I deem desirable... I merely think it's inappropriate of Dr Whale to be harassing you in the street."
"Uhuh..."
Rolling her eyes, the Mayor pushes herself from Emma's bed, feeling oddly deflated at how this evening has ended. Green eyes follow her movements curiously before falling on the crumpled heap of denim that lies abandoned beside the brunette's feet. Looking up inquisitively, the blonde places her hand on the Mayor's arm to stop her from making any further progress in leaving.
"The key... What's it for?"
Regina looks down intently, her eyes roaming over ernest pale features only inches from her own; attention flickering momentarily to the thin scarlet line running back from Emma's temple. She smiles saucily, once more finding the Sheriff's intent gaze.
"Oh, I'll leave that to you to figure out, dear... I imagine once you do, you'll have more use for what it means."
"Wait... What?"
Emma frowns in confusion, sighing when the brunette offers her nothing but a mocking shrug before taking a step back.
Regina picks up her bag to leave; satisfied that there is still a chance of a little fun to be had between them after all, but admittedly a little sour at the way the Sheriff seems momentarily disinterested in playing along. Nodding her farewell, she turns briskly to take her leave before the quiet groan of the blonde's bedsprings has her turning back to the younger woman curiously.
Emma sits perched on the edge of the bed, head cocked thoughtfully to the side, and looking really rather lovely in just her thick gray sweater and underwear.
Not that she needs to be let in on this fact.
"Regina..."
"Can I help you, Miss Swan?"
"... Are you sure you have no interest in running me a bath?"