Regina regards Gold venomously as the little man's attention returns yet again to the counter of the small rest stop in which they have eventually decided to eat lunch. All too aware of her murderous scowl, he addresses her casually, but his eyes remain transfixed on the far corner.
"If looks could kill, Regina... I assure you, it is not Miss Swan whom I have my eye on, but rather what the good Sheriff deems a suitable choice of sandwich."
He smirks as he speaks, but in reality he spares very little interest in the blonde who stands with her hips cocked against the counter. It had been by silent agreement that Emma had been the one to have trotted off to place an order for the three of them, and he can't help but feel the beginning touches of trepidation as he looks around the unflatteringly lit greasy cafe and understands that this is neither his domain nor the Queen's. Dark eyes falling on foreign branding and unfamiliar faces, his attention returns again and again to two men arguing heatedly behind the counter- subsequently ignoring the blonde in a fashion he considers highly rude, but by which she doesn't seem perturbed in the slightest- over the happenings between their opposing 'teams' the previous evening. He knows enough of this land they've called home for the past twenty-eight years to understand the men refer to sports teams, but the pent up aggression over such trivial matters, and their crass language- especially in front of a young woman- is not something he is able to find peace with easily.
That's what she's here for; why you brought her along in the first place. She knows how things work here.
Sighing as the brunette clears her throat pointedly, he finally casts his full attention back to her with a sigh.
"She won't thank you for playing her bodyguard. She doesn't need one."
"Who are you to say what she does and doesn't want or need?"
"An observer, dearie... But more than that; the recipient of a rather spectacular headbutt from a horrifically injured young woman... The Sheriff can hold her own, and she's proud of that fact, that much is obvious. I, however, neither meant her harm when I took her, nor mean her any now. She means one thing to me, Regina; a means to getting my son back."
"You're suggesting I should have sat back and let you whisk her off to New York... After everything..."
"It would have been preferable, yes... But I am unsurprised by this turn of events given how things stand between the two of you."
"Our relationship is none of your business-"
"-Nor do I wish to make it so. But as you are here with us- and so clearly opposed to me having the slightest thing to do with her- I merely hasten to remind you that Miss Swan is simply making good on her part of our deal... Allow her the space to do so, and this whole situation stands to be fairly painless for all those involved..."
"I'm supposed to believe that once Emma tracks down your boy we'll never hear from you again?"
"... If neither of you make arrangements with myself, then I don't see why I would seek you out. You have unwittingly played your part to aid me in my interests, have you not?"
"How dare-"
"-Once Emma does the same, I have no use, nor interest in either of you."
"...You'll have to forgive me for finding such a promise hard to believe-"
The brunette's disdainful retort tapers off into a displeased hiss as the Sheriff comes strolling back to their dingy booth with three plates and packets of chips balanced expertly in her hands.
"You would be well suited as a waitress, Miss Swan; most impressive."
Emma rolls her eyes at the pawnbroker's words as she slides onto the vinyl upholstered bench next to the brunette, reaching across the darker woman to pluck up a decidedly murky looking jug of water and paper cup. The Queen however, adopts a thunderous expression; the term unknown to her until arriving in Storybrooke all those years ago. She had intended the curse to transport its victims into a position befitting their stature and persona in their previous lives, and she has since believed that a better role for Red would have been hard to find. To have it suggested that the blonde would be of a similar caliber infuriates her; conveniently choosing to overlook the months spent following the younger woman's arrival when she would have thought much the same. The Sheriff quells such disgruntled musings when she merely shakes her head, sipping at her water.
"Been there, done that."
The Mayor raises an eyebrow in surprise, but she supposes that apart from Emma's talk of her previous position as a bail-bondsman and her vague, yet rather distressing mention of what the brunette has translated within her own knowledge to 'tavern work', she knows very little as to the Sheriff's previous employment.
Of her former life in general.
"Your choice of lunch is less inspiring."
Gold plucks at processed white bread and plastic yellow cheese with distaste, deciding that at least the ham looks vaguely edible.
"I told you to pull over two stops back; there was a McDonalds and a Starbucks. This is what you get when you stop at a roadside Diner."
She shrugs, before taking in the small frown Regina adopts at this statement and clarifying with forced patience; finding the way the others are reacting to the outside world most disconcerting. She had told herself to expect it... But it still feels like she's stuck in some awful B movie rerun on the sci-fi channel.
"Diners aren't generally like Granny's... They're more... Well, see for yourselves."
"It's ghastly."
The Sheriff chuckles wickedly as she takes a generous bite from her sandwich; amused at the regal note within the brunette's voice.
"It's reality."
"Yes, well... Your obnoxious, sour tendencies are starting to make a little more sense."
The blonde rolls her eyes, and Gold observes with genuine curiosity the way such an admonishment from the Mayor has the Sheriff fighting off a smirk rather than chewing the other woman out for her insult as he would naturally expect.
Returning his attention to the dismal offering on his plate, he proceeds to shake his head when the younger woman pushes herself from the table- having finished her own food with startling alacrity- and inquires after any requests from the small candy stand at the back of the cafe to take with them on the road. The brunette responds in kind, and he allows just the smallest hint of a smile as he catches Emma mutter something that sounds suspiciously like 'your loss' before she disappears in search of sugar.
"...I can only give you my word."
"Pardon me?"
"There is no physical way for me to prove that I will leave you and the Miss Swan be once Baelfire has been found, only my word. You will either accept it or you won't, Your Majesty, but it will do you no good fretting over the fact now."
"...And yet I shall continue to do so anyway."
"Then, there is nothing more I can say."
"... You know what she looked like when I found her! You know what damage you caused!... And you left her like that! I then had to sit and listen to the girl talk of things such as redemption and change! I had to sit there and needle out the subtext, which is that a young woman you almost let die in that crummy apartment is terrified of being considered a hypocrite! She doesn't want to 'mess up' because she knows she's in at the deep end with everything the curse has rained down on her, and all this time I'm listening to her speak in this odd, new, calm manner I'm looking at her wrists and I'm seeing the blood that covered her like goddamned paint! The thought of Emma having to sit in that car with you-"
"-Note how it is yourself and not Miss Swan who is getting worked up over this?"
"She should get worked up about it! It should have been her coming after you back at the shop, not I!"
"I agree... And yet she seems adamant to act as though nothing has happened..."
"No. She simply won't put herself in a position where she might crack. As you so cleverly deduced, she is proud. She may have a hard time holding her tongue, but I imagine she's decided if she doesn't start anything, she won't wind up struggling to finish it. She hasn't just let what you did to her go... I'd take good care to remember that if I were you..."
"I'm sorry?"
"You don't know Emma like I do. Just because she hasn't come for answers or to pay you reprimand doesn't mean she won't."
"I see... So I, the Dark One, am supposed to live in fear of a little blonde girl scorned?"
"... She is the Saviour... And she is Snow's blood raised in this ant's nest of hate, desperation and mindlessness you see festering before you... I would if I were you."
The brunette's tone is dark but low; aware that this is not a conversation they want overheard by the sorry patrons of this despicable establishment. Gold allows her a small nod, and tells her curtly he will bear her words in mind.
He does not, in fact, think of Emma as a 'little blonde girl scorned' but he is growing tired of dealing with the disgraced Queen when the only person he needs to keep sweet is the Sheriff herself. He understands Regina's point, but does not believe her threat... Emma neither has the power, nor the innate need for revenge that would instil any true fear within him, and he has long ago discarded the trepidation that she might try to screw him over on their deal in some way.
It serves her no purpose... And the blonde is much smarter than she can sometimes come across.
Taking up his cane in defeat, he moves from the table stiffly; something in the air in this new and unknown world making his leg ache and his bones creak. He moves towards the peeling sign for the restroom posted to their left; smart dress shoes squeaking on cheap linoleum.
As Gold pulls open the door to the restroom, it is entirely by accident that he collides with its previous occupant. Cane slipping on damp tiles, he registers its tip connecting with flesh, before his vision is obscured by a mass of cornsilk curls and his ears fill with an almost primal growl.
"I'm sorry, I-"
"-Get away!"
He lets out a low croak as he is pushed roughly into the door which has swept briskly closed; shutting him and his assailant into the tiled prison within.
"Emma-"
"-Don't touch me!"
Despite the choked delivery of her words, there is no real trace of fear in her tone, but rather an animalistic anger, and when he gathers himself and looks up at her, he is faced with hard lines of rage etched across her face behind the damning end of a silver barrel.
"Miss Swan-"
"-Ah! You move, you'll regret it! What do you want with me?!"
"Nothing! I... I came to use the restroom!"
Green eyes narrow, before the Sheriff lets out a low sigh and whips the gun back into the pocket of her jacket as though such an act comes completely naturally. Shaken, Gold takes a tentative step away from the door and towards the blonde with his hands raised in a sign of peace.
"I came to use the restroom and bumped into you. I didn't even know you were in here."
"Why should I believe you?"
"What other choice do you have?"
"... You try anything... Anything... I'll-"
"-Emma, why would I try anything?... As you said yourself... I need you. I have no intention of causing you any harm... I never did!"
The pawnbroker explains carefully, but he finds himself reflecting on the Queen's warning as the Sheriff simply proceeds to rest her rear against the flecked enamel of the sink and regard him with an intensity both alarming and alluring.
"So you say."
"... I do."
"Words are easy. Cheap."
"Miss Swan, I apologise for-"
"-Don't. I don't want you to apologise to me. I want you to stand by your word that you don't plan on doing it again."
"I just told you I-"
"-And I just told you talk was cheap-"
"-Then how do you-"
"-Actions. You see me and Regina through this, and you make sure we don't end up getting fucked over... Because I will tell you this much... I know who you are, and I know what you could do to me... But don't believe for a second that this time I won't be ready to give you at least a parting shot... You may be powerful, Gold, but you try anything on either Regina or myself again, and I will have a bullet in your head before you do your wizardy shit, or die trying."
He wants to laugh at her for her term of phrase- at her grandiose threats and stone cold mercenary act in general- but reading people is something he has somewhat mastered over the years, and a single look at the hard ice of her eyes informs him that- however fanciful her warning may be- she means every word of it.
"... I don't want to hurt you... Or Regina."
"Time will tell..."
She shrugs, and it's as if the gesture serves to throw off the bitter exterior- interior... that wasn't an act... it's what she's been hiding- of her anger, and she simply pulls a hand through her long hair and makes casually for the door, Gold turning to watch her go.
"Does she know you have that? Regina? Does she know you have a gun?"
"... She never asked."