"Get out!"
"But-"
"Out!"
The brunette yells hoarsely, her chest flushed as she squares up to the pathetic reporter. She has used her wicked tongue to dub him a disgrace, worthless, and an imbecile, and yet the sniveling little weasel remains exactly where he stands.
Sydney takes a cautious step forwards, eyes flickering nervously to the hearth in which flames climb ever higher without the watchful eye of the Mayor to tend them. His nostrils flare with the tart scent of liquor, and he can see it glistening within her darkened eyes as well as on her lips.
"Don't make me say it again, Sydney..."
The reporter shivers at the Mayor's low tone, cowering slightly beneath her murderous glower but refusing to take a step back. He widens his eyes, begging for her to see reason; knowing it is surely a pointless pursuit, but desperate to save the dark beauty he reveres as she seems to be coming dangerously close to becoming undone before him.
"Please... Madame Mayor... Please..."
The brunette's fingers tremble ever so slightly, and her vision dances in and out of focus, but her snarl remains painted perfectly on scarlet lips. She takes a step towards him- swaying a little- and he instinctively extends a hand to steady her.
"Don't touch me!"
Unbridled anger in eyes almost black with intoxication and she brings her hand down hard across his face. Sydney lets out an oddly feminine cry, his palm flying up to cover the angry red mark blossoming at his cheek. He regards the Mayor with shocked confusion, taking a hasty stride backwards.
He had come to the grand mansion after finishing work to seek out council from the enchanting brunette, having found her to be absent from her office. This in itself had not caused too much unease, as over the past few weeks it has seemed to be becoming a more regular occurrence. Knocking loudly at the front door, he had waited, growing impatient when no one had come to invite him across the threshold despite spying several of the lights on inside. Eventually, after his fourth attempt of rapping the heavy brass knocker forcefully against its plate, the door had been pulled back by Henry; the young boy's face alight with confusion.
Henry had stated he had simply assumed his mother would answer for a guest, as was always the way, and had suggested- with a look that said he thought it to be highly unlikely- that the Mayor was perhaps listening to headphones and so had not heard the continuous knocking. Sydney had restrained the urge to mutter at the boy that Madame Mayor was not like hia pitiful excuse for a birth mother, and that the likelihood of Regina sitting around bopping her head to the beat of a pair of headphones in a fashion similar to the troublesome blonde was precisely nil.
His Mayor listens to music from a grand and expensive hi-fi system.
He had removed his shoes politely, before moving cautiously through the spacious rooms; searching out the elusive Mayor. Upon entering her drawing room he had found her; sat with her head in her hands as the yellow light from the fire flickered softly over her chocolate tresses. Upon rousing her by use of her name, the brunette had looked up to snarl at him, demanding he take his leave at once, as a curiously empty bottle of bourbon remained clenched in one, perfect fist.
The ten minutes that followed have done nothing to better the situation.
"Regina..."
"Leave! And if you so much as whisper about this to anyone..."
But she uses her eyes to convey the rest. The reporter swallows, stumbling slightly as he backs further away from the dark woman.
Exiting the room with unsteady backwards strides, Sydney makes one last, meek attempt to reason with the Mayor; her chalky pallor combined with the high flush to her cheeks and perspiration on her brow convincing symptoms of a fever, but the heavy scent of alcohol that cloaks her reveals a more startling truth. The brunette is not just tipsy, but in fact dangerously drunk. From the exaggerated sway to her hips and the shallowness of her breath he guesses she's been drinking since the early hours of the afternoon; a worrying thought, as the sky has already begun taking on a bruised purple hue.
"Madame Mayor, please let me help you, I-"
"Get the hell out of my house, you miserable little man! Out! Out! Out!"
The reporter ducks in horrified surprised as the Mayor sends the empty liquor bottle hurtling towards his head; the glass shattering against the wall behind him. Staring at the brunette with wounded shock, Sydney turns and all but flees the large house, leaving Regina to fall back onto the sofa as the flames continue to lick at the sooty brick of the hearth.
She is completely oblivious to the fact her son stands open-mouthed in the hallway.
"Oh, sweet Jesus, my eyes! Put some clothes on!"
Mary Margaret throws her hand theatrically over her face as she turns pointedly away from the blonde who makes her way down the wrought iron staircase two at a time. Emma chuckles wickedly, springing down the last three steps to land on woolen socked feet. She tweaks at the soft cotton of the underwear she wears beneath her sweater casually, pulling at the seam so that the material better covers her ass cheek.
"Hey! You and your eyes are damn lucky being treated to all this!"
She whips her hair jokingly to the side, hand dragging sordidly down her bare slender thigh as she grins at her housemate who rolls her eyes in bemusement.
"I warned you I had some shitty habits when I moved in! And one of those shitty habits happens to be that I refuse to get dolled up just to come downstairs and make coffee! We-"
"-Have company..."
"Ha, no we-... Wait, what?!"
It's the schoolteacher's turn to grin as she gestures towards the kitchenette where her guest stands awkwardly at the counter making tea.
"Uh... David..."
"Good evening, Sheriff..."
David smiles at the blonde with ill-hidden amusement as the latter's cheeks flush crimson and she turns to glare down at her housemate.
"Why didn't you tell me you he was here?!"
"Well, I didn't reckon you'd come downstairs to swan around in your underwear for one."
"I am not-"
Emma breaks off quickly, aware that her voice is unnaturally raised and carries on in a cold whisper.
"-I am not swanning around in my underwear, I'm in my damn pyjamas. I was reading in bed!"
"Looks like underwear from where I'm sitting."
"Yes, well unlike some people, I don't wear a fucking nightie to bed! I'm not seven!"
Mary Margaret scowls playfully at the Sheriff who eyes her heatedly. David turns away to hide an amused smirk at the Sheriff's angry whispering, which is so far doing nothing to stop him from overhearing. Offering the raven-headed woman one last growl, the blonde turns to head back upstairs.
Mary Margaret calls after her sweetly.
"Weren't you down here to make yourself coffee?"
Her eyes sparkle as Emma turns back to glare at her warningly; smiling innocently before mouthing silently up at the Sheriff.
"I thought we were damn lucky to be treated to 'all this'?"
The schoolteacher watches the battle of conflicting emotions warring across the younger woman's face with amusement, but she knows the blonde well enough to predict stubbornness will win out. As per her expectations, with a low hiss, Emma runs a hand irritably through her long hair before stalking over to the kitchenette with obstinate determination.
She pointedly ignores David as she stretches up onto her toes to reach the instant coffee which rests on the top shelf of the cabinet above the sink; damning both Mary Margaret for its placement- the schoolteacher deeming coffee of the instant variety to be garbage and therefore not worthy of a position on the countertop- and her sweater for riding up with her movements to showcase the pale flesh of her stomach. Mission complete and reaching for the kettle, she finds David averting his gaze from her just as pointedly. Sighing, she rests her backside against the counter as she waits for the kettle to boil and attempts an act of nonchalance.
"So, what are you guys up to tonight?"
"No real plans, we just thought we'd hang out."
David's cheeks flush slightly as he looks up to find the Sheriff raising an eyebrow knowingly and he hurries over to the safety of the sofa, handing the schoolteacher her tea. Mary Margaret holds her housemate's stare with a little more confidence and offers the younger woman a small shrug.
"What about you? Hitting the town?"
Emma bites back a harsh retort as she inwardly rolls her eyes at the comment she imagines the idiot sitting next to her friend meant in jest as he nods pointedly at her attire.
Christ, I barely know the guy and he's going to start cracking shitty jokes about my damn underwear?... Charming!
"No... No, I have a pretty hot date planned with a bottle of merlot and the lovely Stephen."
"Stephen?"
David's brow lifts in curiosity as Mary Margaret chuckles and puts him out of his misery.
"King. Stephen King. Emma's idea of a good night is to scare herself witless with disturbing stories."
"They're not disturbing, they're interesting! You want disturbing stories, try Henry's book!"
"The fairy tale book?"
Again, David's brow creases in confusion. This time Emma sets him straight.
"It's not so much the fairy tales as it is being told everyone in town is an embodiment of them..."
"Really? How weird! Who does he think we all are?"
"Well-"
Mary Margaret trails off after a sharp glance from the blonde. The Sheriff shrugs awkwardly; suddenly a little uncomfortable about sharing her son's private thoughts with David Nolan.
And not just because of the whole fucked up Charming thing... It's... Well, it's our thing...
Leaving the question unanswered, the blonde turns to make her coffee; stirring the steaming dark liquid a few times with a spoon before tossing the utensil into the sink with a small clunk. She takes her drink and moves to disappear upstairs again; glowering at the schoolteacher as she passes her in return for the awkward five minutes just spent in the kitchen. Mary Margaret smiles innocently, muttering sweetly.
"Maybe you should think twice about bad mouthing my use of a nightgown, hmm?"
"Maybe..."
The raven-headed woman chuckles amiably as the blonde holds her hand up behind her as she leaves; discreetly flipping her the bird.
"Emma... Emma...?"
Emma places the wine she holds in her hand carefully to rest on her nightstand, before rolling over onto her stomach to reach for the walkie that lies at the far end of her bed.
"Hey kid, what's up?"
"Emma... Can I stay with you tonight?"
"...Huh?"
The blonde frowns in confusion, eyeing the blocky phone in her hand curiously.
"Can I stay at yours?"
"...Uh... Your mom probably wouldn't like that..."
Unless... Surely Regina hasn't permitted Henry to stay the night? She is changing, for sure, but the boy hasn't even been over for dinner with her knowing blessing.
"...-Bad"
"What, Henry?"
Emma pulls herself from her thoughts quickly; feeling guilty for having paid Henry only half of her attention.
"She... Something's wrong... She's acting... Bad..."
"What do you mean she's 'acting bad'?"
The Sheriff swings herself around so that she sits up on the bed; the warm buzz of her wine deserting her instantly.
"I don't know... She's angry... And she threw a bottle, and there's glass on the floor, and I-"
"-What?! Henry, are you ok?"
Slim fingers wrestle through tangled curls distractedly as the blonde switches the walkie to her other hand; already moving to pick her jeans up off the floor.
"Yes, but I... Can you come get me?"
"I... I'm coming over right now, ok?"
"Ok."
Emma frowns, depressing the communication button. She wrestles her jeans up quickly, before pulling on her boots with vicious determination. Henry's call has spooked her, and the brief thought she spares over the fact she has polished off half a bottle of wine is almost immediately overruled with worry for the kid.
Not just the kid...Worry about what the hell could be wrong with the Regina...
"Regina!"
Emma raps her knuckles hard against the stately door to the Mayor's mansion. For a hatefully long time her knocking goes unanswered, but then, finally, a pale face peeks into view as Henry cracks the door open an inch to spy her on the doorstep. Confirming it to be the Sheriff, he opens it fully; pulling at her hand to lead her inside.
"Kid, what's going on? Where's your mom?"
She doesn't wait for an answer; instead patting the young brunet down carefully and scrutinizing him clinically until she is sure he is unharmed, before moving off towards the drawing room where she can see the telling light of the fire dancing through the crack beneath the door.
"She's gone mad!"
Henry's voice is high and panicked and the blonde turns to him and places a hand on his shoulder comfortingly.
"Go wait in the kitchen, ok?"
"But-"
"-Please, Henry."
He frowns, but she trusts he'll listen to her and hurries over to the drawing room on slightly shaky legs. Knocking softly, she lets herself in without waiting for an invitation.
"Oh shit..."
The Sheriff glances down at the fractured glass that studs the stone at her feet before making her way over to the brunette who lies reclined awkwardly on the sofa.
"Regina?"
The Mayor's lashes flutter open with a frown as she bats away the irksome fingers scuttling over her like spiders. Glaring up at the blonde in confusion, she attempts to bark at her to get the hell out, only to let out a low groan.
"How much have you had to drink?"
The brunette scowls up at the pale face that looms close to hers like the moon, and shakes her head. Emma crouches down on her haunches, looking up into the darker woman's face with unmasked concern. The latter simply lets out another groan.
"Regina... Shit, what's wrong with you? Why have you... Why?"
"Why are you here?"
"Hen-... To check if you're okay! What the hell have you done?"
The blonde points over to the shattered remains of the Jack Daniel's bottle with wide eyes and Regina grumbles at her to shut the hell up as she moves to push herself up off the sofa. She slaps Emma's helping hands away angrily, before collapsing unsteadily onto the floor with a small cry of frustration. The Sheriff sighs, moving to stand behind the darker woman and finding the hollows of her armpits so as to hoist her back up.
"What are you doing?"
"... Henry..."
Emma looks up to find the boy watching them from the threshold. Clearing her throat, she pulls the brunette slowly back onto the sofa.
"Your mom's sick, kid."
"No she's not."
This time Regina looks up at Henry too when he speaks, his tone ice cold. The blonde frowns, not accustomed to hearing the kid speak in such a way.
"She's not sick. She's drunk."
Henry kicks at the glass that litters the floor pointedly, glaring at the brunette on the sofa with narrowed eyes. Emma shakes her head, turning back to Regina who now clutches at her arm a little painfully and she speaks over her shoulder.
"Kid, I'll take care of this, you need to go to bed."
"Why are you being nice to her?! I thought you were coming to take me home! It's her fault she's drunk!"
"Henry!"
The blonde glances down at the Mayor cautiously, but is astounded to find not shock in dark eyes that struggle to focus, but simply a hateful sadness. She imagines the kid's tone is much more familiar to the brunette.
"It's true!"
Henry states, crossing his arms petulantly over his chest as he watches the Sheriff pull his mother back onto her feet and sling a slender arm up and over her neck to help support the darker woman. He pouts as Emma throws him a warning glance, moving aside to let the blonde squeeze through the door with the Mayor, who meanwhile struggles weakly to push her away.
"She's not sick, she's drunk! She's bad! She's an evil witch and I hate-"
"-Henry! Go to bed. Now!"
The boy flinches visibly, staring up at the blonde in shock before turning tail and running up the stairs without a second glance. Emma winces as a door above them slams; not quite able to believe she's yelled at him.
"And now, you're no better than I am, Miss Swan..."
The Sheriff glares down at the brunette leant against her, but with the way Regina slurs her words and rolls her eyes, she decides to let such things slide.
What if she's right, though? What if he doesn't like me anymore after what I just did...
Battling such thoughts away with difficulty, the blonde commits to the task at hand and struggles onwards with her intoxicated burden. She manages a few strides more before coming to an exhausted stop. Regina's lids have drooped to half-mast and she decides to act on impulse and fuck the consequences. Reaching down awkwardly, she finds the crook of the Mayor's knees and pulls the brunette up into a shaky fireman's hold. Panting a little, she makes her way up the stairs; cursing the older woman for the scale of her house as she carries her carefully to her bedroom.