"This is ridiculous."
The brunette huffs irritably; quickening her pace to match the Sheriff's as Emma stalks a little way behind Gold with her long hair whipping behind her in tangled chaos.
"We've been down this street twice already; I'm pretty sure I could direct other tourists by now! And why on earth is the weather so awfully cold here? And... What... What's that face for?"
She snaps as she catches a small grin touch the blonde's lips to her right.
"The weather's no different here than it is in Storybrooke; it just is cold today... And I know; it's a bitch. I keep thinking we should just take the fucking subway, but if the shawl gets hot or whatever when we're under ground, it doesn't do us much good..."
She shrugs, and the Mayor can't help but think that Emma's sudden descent into laid-back apathy has a hell of a lot to do with the sugared pretzal the younger woman nibbles at from between grease-spotted paper. Rolling her eyes, she pulls her coat closer to her slim frame, eyeing the little man up ahead of them darkly.
"Gold! We've been here before; the scarf isn't working."
"It's a shawl."
The Sheriff mutters beside her, and Regina finds herself inwardly certain that the younger woman is entirely aware of just how contrary she's being. Throwing her a weary glance, she directs her words once more at the Pawnbroker.
"Whatever it is, it's clearly not working."
"Not true, dearie, I just wanted to make sure."
The little man interjects as he comes to a halt and turns to face the two women.
"Make sure of what?"
Emma asks, tossing the last of her sugar-coated treat in a nearby trashcan and dusting off her hands. She moves back to stand beside the brunette, and Gold takes in their stark differences with mild curiosity; absentmindedly marvelling at the fitting beauty of the curse.
"Each time we have passed through this street, the shawl becomes almost hot enough to burn... I needed to be sure, as this whole area gives it a heat, but I am certain this is the place."
A small smile touches the corner of his mouth as he catches the Sheriff look around them nervously, and shakes his head.
"Oh, he's not here, Miss Swan."
"But you just said-"
"-There."
Both women turn to look in the direction in which the little man points with a frown.
"... He's in there?"
Regina asks as she gazes up at the hulking brick of a dilapidated block of apartments on the other side of the street.
"I believe so, yes..."
Gold replies, and there is something strange about his tone which has the darker woman looking swiftly away in distaste; the salted tears on his tongue not something she wishes to endure an accompanying visual to.
"... Ok... So, why do you need me? Why not just go in there yourself?"
The blonde asks; a little irritated by the whole situation, but struggling to keep such feelings at bay as she recognises this moment for the magnitude it holds for the man standing beside her.
"Because, no matter how many years have come to pass; I know my son. I know that if Baelfire greets my intrusion by fleeing, I have very little chance in this world of catching up with him once again. He is unaware, and therefore much like a sitting duck at present, but should he believe I'm searching for him and not want this to be the case... Well... I believe you yourself might know a thing or two not just about finding people, but about not wanting to be found, Sheriff."
"That's rather presumptuous..."
"Not at all... But my assumptions are irrelevant, Miss Swan... That is... Unless I am mistaken in my assumption that you also know a thing or two about running?"
"It's not me that should be running right now..."
"Not true, dearie, for if my son runs... So will you. You will bring him to me, Emma, or the deal still stands. You will bring me my son."
"So, what? I'm supposed to physically jump him and drag him back here?"
The Sheriff growls, looking only a little more perturbed than the darker woman that stands at her side with a face like thunder.
"Oh, don't pretend to find such a request to be impossible, Sheriff; you're not that good of an actress. If needs must, you can do what I'm asking of you, am I right?"
"Gold, you're asking a woman who probably doesn't weigh more than a hundred and thirty pounds when soaking wet to-"
"-I can do it."
"Emma-"
"-Let's just get this over with."
The blonde hisses irritably, but she takes a moment to offer the Mayor a brief thin-lipped smile. Glancing at Gold and ascertaining that the little man looks politely away, she addresses the Queen quietly as she takes a step closer so that they stand companionably shoulder to shoulder.
"Gold seems sure his kid's going to run, and running is something I can do. If the guy doesn't weigh a couple of hundred pounds- which, looking at Gold, I'm allowing myself some hope on that count- I can most likely take him down. I'm not exactly thrilled at the idea of tackling some guy in the middle of Manhattan, but, this is New York, and crazier things have happened. I'm not going to be able to physically drag the guy back here though if he doesn't want me to, so you two are going to have to be ready to come to me if I need you to."
"I'll make sure of it, but-"
"-Enough buts. We bring Bae to Gold, or Gold to Bae... Either way, who cares? So long as it's done and this is over. The two of them can then hash it out, beat each other up, stumble weeping into each others' arms... Again, I don't care. While they do whatever they need to do, we're going to leave them to it and forget this crazy nightmare ever fucking happened... We'll go out or something, and I'll show you some of the reasons this city isn't entirely the shit-hole it might seem."
Emma shrugs noncommittally, but her elbow brushes against the brunette's and Regina notes with something akin to hilarity that a faint blush creeps across the younger woman's cheeks even after all this time.
"... Are you going to take me out on a date, Sheriff?"
She murmurs; wary of the pawnbroker's proximity.
"... Call it whatever makes you happy."
The blonde sighs, as though bored, though her lips twitch with a suppressed smile.
The Mayor reacts in kind.
"Then it's a date."
"... I guess it is."
The blonde replies, finally allowing a brief, yet full grin of her own.
Stepping away from Regina, she addresses Gold sternly as all three of them cross the street and close in on the stacked silver buttons of the apartment block's intercom system.
"Fine. You win, Gold. This is it... Which one's Baelfire?"