The brunette walks gracefully up the little path leading to the Sheriff's station; the bag in her hand containing Emma's dress and jacket neatly laundered and folded. Her excuse for being here is to bring back the items lent to her.
She tells herself that in no way is she simply making a social visit.
Her inward battle is rendered moot when, upon reaching the end of the rather dingy corridor leading to the blonde's office, it becomes apparent the younger woman has company. Listening intently from her position hidden just beyond the threshold, she recognizes the second voice murmuring melodically to belong to Mary Margaret.
She rolls her eyes as the general theme of their inane conversation grows clear; the schoolteacher is distraught over the current train-wreck that is the relationship between herself and David Nolan, whilst the blonde offers a kind- yet somewhat disinterested- word every now and then to break up the insipid rambling.
Deciding that Mary Margaret's hopeless romantic whining can wait, Regina stalks smartly into the small office, standing authoritatively in the doorway and returning Emma's surprised frown with her best 'lady of the public' smile.
"Madame Mayor?"
"Sheriff, you may want this."
She holds up the small bag of Emma's clothes, ignoring the inquisitive glance procured from Mary Margaret, and places it neatly by the door.
"Uh, thanks...?"
"Pleasure. Oh, and Miss Swan, I have some matters which need to be discussed. If you could come by my office in a short while?"
"Can't, sorry. I have plans for lunch... I can come by after?"
"Miss Swan, when you decided you fancied yourself in the position of Sheriff, did you believe you would merely be playing dress-up? Or did you perhaps imagine that a small amount of actual work would be required? Whatever your lunch plans are; cancel them. Twelve o' clock. My office."
With that, the brunette turns swiftly to take her leave. As she starts down the hallway she overhears the indignant cry of disbelief uttered by the normally mild-mannered schoolteacher and scowls darkly.
"That was so rude! Why can't that awful woman ever just be civil?!"
Regina waits for the blonde's resentful words of agreement, but the Sheriff merely mutters quietly. The words however, are still discernible by the brunette's sharp ear.
"It's fine, I'll just call Ruby and rearrange. Forget it."
Why does the irksome woman even need to have lunch with that promiscuous little harlot? By the sounds of things they've been seeing more than enough of each other anyway...
As she gets back into her car, Regina sighs and lets her anger abate. She isn't even entirely sure what spurned it on in the first place. A small voice at the back of her mind suggests her irritability may have something to do with the fact that she'd come breezing into the Sheriff's station in the hopes- really? hopes?- of visiting the blonde; an act which, while performed on an almost daily basis, has never been something she has looked forward too before. She hadn't wanted to admit, even to herself, that she had been seeking Emma out for amiable entertainment, so finding herself standing awkwardly in the doorway when she is usually- hell, is always- the one with the upper hand, had just... Well...
She sighs, striving to pull herself from her dangerous self-analysis, and perfects her lipstick in the rear-view mirror before cruising slowly back to her office.
Could that really have been considered rude? I just want the woman to do her damn job.
Letting herself in to her grand office, she picks up an apple from the large bowl that rests on the table and weighs it thoughtfully in her hand. She catches sight of her reflection in one of the expensive mirrors that line the hearth and scowls when she glimpses the unease written across her fine features. She is angry with herself for allowing a simple ten second altercation to affect her in such a way. She is angry with Emma for making her ponder on something which she would have previously not have given a second thought.
"Why... are you jealous?"
Jealous of Ruby. Jealous of Doctor Whale. Jealous of Henry. Jealous of even god damned Mary Margaret whom the blonde allows in with no hesitation.
So what?! Your interest lies in fucking her, not befriending her.
"Stop it!"
Regina glares at herself in the mirror warningly, refusing to allow herself to wrestle with these idiotic thoughts for another second. She is the Mayor. The irritating young woman, with her leather jackets and bad attitude, is the Sheriff, and as such is in the position to be expected to do what the Mayor damn well wishes of her.
Professionally, of course.
Smirking at the images conjured in contrast to this last thought, the Mayor takes a seat gracefully at her desk; pulling a small knife from the top drawer and skinning the peel from her Honeycrisp apple in neat, concentric circles. She glances at the clock that hangs on the wall above her before returning to her task.
Eleven twenty.
Emma shoves her hands moodily into the tight pockets of her jeans, traipsing from her bug- the engine's warning light coming on halfway through her short journey being the cherry on top of this already shitty day- and making her way to the Mayor's office. She knocks hesitantly at the obnoxiously large door and half hopes to be offered no reply.
No such luck.
"Yes?"
Pushing the heavy oak open, Emma lets herself in, waiting awkwardly in the doorway as she holds the brunette's dark gaze.
"You wanted to see me?"
"Did you get your things okay, Miss Swan?"
"Yes. They're in my car... What do you want?"
"Come. Sit down, dear."
She does as she's told, walking stiffly over to the grand desk and taking a seat opposite the Mayor. She looks around for a hint as to what this is going to be about, but is surprised to find that no documentation or papers lie atop the older woman's desk. Raising a brow in question, she regards Regina warily.
"I'm sorry I am forcing you to skip your lunch date, Sheriff..."
"No you're not."
Emma leans back in the chair, arms folded across her chest. To her surprise, the brunette lets out a low chuckle, nodding her head as though she finds Emma's retort to be not just amusing but very much true. A silence falls between them in the wake of this small show of mirth and they sit facing each other- the blonde with a confused glower and the brunette with a small smirk at her pleasant lips- with tension quickly rising.
"So? Why am I here? Or did you just not want me going through the day without my dose of goading?"
Regina's smirk widens into an oddly charming smile, but she remains- for the moment- silent. Steeping her fingers beneath her chin, she regards the increasingly frustrated Sheriff thoughtfully until she gages the latter is a mere moment away from snapping.
"Miss Swan, I am a woman who likes the finer things in life."
"No shit."
The Mayor purses her lips, but continues on as though the Sheriff's comment has gone unheard, gesturing at the grandeur of the room in which they currently sit with a gracefull sweep of her arm.
"I like to be surrounded by expensive things. Nice things... Pretty things... I find it gives me great pleasure. Do you know what I don't like, though? What I truly detest?"
Me?
Emma keeps her mouth shut; interested to see where this obscure little monologue is going as she deduces the Mayor's question to be rhetorical.
"What I don't like, Miss Swan, is sharing those nice things with others. Do you understand me so far?"
"Uh, I guess?"
"Because, you see, when one finds themselves in the possession of something really, truly... Pretty... The thought of anyone else playing with it with their dirty, sticky fingers... Well... It just doesn't do, dear."
Regina raises an eyebrow at the blonde, conveying she wishes to know whether her message has been received. Emma seems, for the moment, at a loss for words, which the Mayor takes advantage of as she rises slowly from her chair and stalks dominantly around the large table to stand beside her chair. Playing her hand sensually through the blonde's thick curls, the older woman leans down and places a hard kiss on confused-parted lips, before stepping her leg agily over the Sheriff's thighs and straddling her lap possessively.
Emma struggles to comprehend exactly what seems to be happening- to take in the meaning of the Mayor's curious words- as the brunette brushes full lips passionately against her own.
"Find yourself in possession of something?"
She frowns as Regina begins undoing the buttons to the denim shirt she wears; head reeling with the delectable scent of the Mayor's perfume, juxtaposed with the words uttered from scarlet lips suggesting the darker woman feels some sort of ownership.
"Regina, you know you can't... You don't 'posses' me... Don't 'own' me..."
The brunette pulls roughly at long hair, eliciting a groan from the younger woman beneath her and biting playfully at pale expanse of her throat.
"Don't I?"
"...No..."
Regina grins into flushed flesh as the blonde's lips say no, but her rapid breathing suggests otherwise, and she pulls the Sheriff's mouth greedily back to hers as she smooths unruly curls into submission.
"I don't need to own something to despise witnessing others playing with it..."
"Are you...Are you jealous?"
None of the cocky sarcasm this time, just clouded confusion in blown green eyes as the Sheriff pulls back to search the brunette's face with something close to bewilderment. Regina regards the younger woman's flushed cheeks, parted lips and wide eyes with a smirk.
"...What if I am?"
She asks, and Emma frowns; her expression strangely child-like in her confusion, and Regina represses the urge to chuckle.
"Well... I... I don't really know how-"
"-Shh..."
Warm lips against hers again and the blonde struggles to concentrate. Somewhere at the back of her mind, her logic argues that she should stop this. Think about this. That this is just as likely to be a form of manipulation as it is the truth. She reprimands that pensive part with the fact that it doesn't really matter.
At the end of the day, there's no real way this won't end up with her getting screwed.
Figuratively.
Literally.
"Regina, I-"
"-Go get your dress out of the car and come back here. Now."