Taking heed of the Sheriff's request, Regina pushes herself up and sidles around the low coffee table so that she can take a seat next to her. She offers Emma a curious glance as she does so; the proffered space somewhere between the size of a large armchair and a small sofa, and a rather snug fit for two, despite neither one of them carrying a whole lot of weight. Her hip presses against the blonde's comfortably, and she raises an eyebrow when the latter slouches down in the seat slightly to get comfortable; subsequently leaning against the soft wool of the Mayor's winter coat companionably.
"Dear... Do you think this is appropriate?... I mean, as we're out, and, well... This..."
"I think it's New York, and no one would bat an eyelid if I gave you cause to struggle for breath right now..."
Emma replies with a faint smile; her muscles tense and head pounding due to recent events, but vaguely aware that Regina has momentarily taken on the role of stammering innocent and finding the fact to be endearingly amusing.
"Oh..."
"But I'm afraid it'll have to wait."
"... You have a story you need to tell me first."
"... Yeah..."
The younger woman nods pensively, but she seems at a loss of where to start exactly and so simply sips at her coffee in silence. Leaning forwards to pluck up the cup that waits for her on the low table, the Mayor settles back once more so that the blonde can sink into her comfortably; light curls catching slightly on the side of her coat.
"... You knew that man... Gold's son..."
She prompts gently, taking a sip of hot, strong coffee and wondering if it really is the best cappuccino she's ever tasted, or if it just seems that way because Emma bought it for her.
"Yes... His name is Neal... Well, it is here anyway."
"Okay. Neal... So, when did you meet him?"
"When I was about seventeen... My car- my bug- that's how we met..."
"How's that?"
"I tried to steal it... He'd already stolen it... Quite the romantic tale, no?"
"... So... You were together?"
"... Yeah..."
"Oh god..."
The brunette groans, before catching the guarded expression with which the Sheriff studies her and shaking her head apologetically.
"I don't mean because of you and me... I mean because, well, it's Gold's son... The Dark One's son..."
"Then I agree with your 'oh god' and raise you a 'holy shit'..."
Emma mutters darkly, her eyes cast down thoughtfully to her cup before she offers it to the Mayor to taste as promised.
"Regina, do you think he knew? Gold, I mean..."
"No... No, I don't think so... I think he knew he'd need you, but I imagine he'd have gone about things a little differently if he'd known the two of you shared a history..."
"But... It can't just be coincidence! I mean, for Neal and I to have crossed paths and to have- ... It's crazy, right?"
"It is... But I can't offer you any other explanation, dear... Some things- a lot of things- in both of our lives are a result of Rumplestiltskin's foresight... But he always said when he taught me that 'fate plays a hand'... A cruel one in this case."
"... Yeah..."
Regina sighs; Emma's 'storytelling' technique lacklustre to say the least, but she knows the younger woman well enough by now to be aware that the fact that they are sitting here discussing recent adverse discoveries at all is a huge step for both of them in itself. Taking a sip from the coffee she accepts from slim fingers, she winces at its immense sweetness and hands it back to the Sheriff who rubs her thumb pensively over the faint lipstick smear left on the white plastic.
"Is that why you were in jail, then? For stealing the car?"
"No... No, Neal wanted to shift some stolen watches. He had it all planned out, you know? We were going to take the money and find somewhere to live- a proper place to live- in Tallahassee."
"Why Tallahassee?"
"Why not?... It was... It was stupid, anyway... Kid's stuff...
The blonde sniffs, and the Queen frowns, but keeps the opinion that it sure does't sound like stupid kid's stuff to the Sheriff to herself.
"You got caught?"
"He told me to meet him while the watches were still hot... He never showed up."
"Oh."
"The cops did."
"They didn't believe you that it was all his idea?"
"I didn't tell them it was all his idea."
"Why not?"
"Because... I was seventeen... And..."
Regina sighs as she turns her head to regard the blonde; the latter casting her gaze up towards the ceiling, and the Mayor imagines the sheen of tears that trembles precariously between her waterline and lashes to be her reason for doing so.
"You loved him..."
She finishes for the Sheriff quietly.
"I told him so, yes... But, whatever, that was a long time ago..."
"It doesn't matter! Emma, please, you're allowed to feel the way you must do now, whether it's a case of a couple of weeks, or, as in this instance, a little over eleven years, it's-... Oh..."
This last syllable is much lower, and the blonde closes her eyes as she feels the darker woman tense up beside her; a tear escaping from clamped lashes to splash onto the back of her hand unnoticed.
"Regina..."
"...Henry..."
"Please don't hate me..."
The Sheriff whispers pleadingly, shaking her head nervously as the brunette slowly pushes herself from the seat and brushes down her coat with trembling fingers.
"Excuse me, I believe I'm about to be sick."
"No, no, Regina, please! You can't leave me here like this!"
Emma begs a little shrilly, and she is bemused to find that this is perhaps the first and only time that she couldn't give a shit about sounding weak and desperate, as right now, that's exactly what she's feeling.
"Emma, please, I need to go."
"No!"
The Queen shakes her head distractedly, and hurries for the door with a slightly awkward gait; nothing like her usual delicate grace. The Sheriff begins to move to chase after her, but when the glass door of the cafe swings shut behind the brunette and narrowly avoids hitting her in the face, she stumbles to a halt; breath shallow and frantic as she struggles with the most uncharacteristic urge to start crying right in the middle of the damn coffee shop.
Swallowing thickly, she rubs a palm roughly across her cheek to vanquish the few tears that have escaped despite her best efforts, and pulls her coat closer to her slim frame before pushing open the door and stalking out into the street to catch the Mayor's dark hair ruffle in the wind, before she slips into the shelter of the motel.
"Fuck..."
The blonde mutters beneath her breath, nibbling her lip anxiously as her shoulders drop in defeat.
"Hey... Are you okay?"
Glancing up sharply, she regards a man who comes out of the glass doors through which she's just left sporting a politely concerned smile.
"I'm fine."
She assures him icily; wondering if she actually ever will be again.
"Break ups are tough, huh... That's too bad..."
"I'm fine!"
She repeats warningly, eyes flashing as he comes to a stop beside her; a little closer than she would have liked.
"If you say so, sweetheart... Still, you don't look like a dyke. If you like it both ways, maybe I could help take your mind off-"
She is unable to decipher the rest, as it comes out as little more than a pained howl; ruddy hands covering a ruddier nose where the Sheriff's fist has made smart contact.
She glances around them for anyone running over to put a stop to their little altercation, but, as she's told the brunette countless times; this is New York, and- save for a few people stopping on their various errands in hopes of catching a full blown show- the world keeps on going about its business as usual.
"Bitch..."
This she is able to catch, and she throws the man a withering glance and flash of her teeth, noting the small dribble of blood that has begun to seep slowly through his fingers towards his wrist.
Tossing her hair back, she stalks towards the motel; musing as she goes that she may never feel 'fine' again, but she does feel a little bit better now.
"Regina?"
The blonde knocks softly at the Queen's motel door; any lingering hardness from her surge of aggression having depleted, leaving her red-eyed and miserable. She leans against the wall as she waits for an answer, before moving round and placing her arm high up on the door and hitting her forehead a few times gently against the flaking paint.
Sniffing, she pushes herself back up and turns away, before a voice heralds her from within the room.
"Emma?... Is that you?"
"... Yeah..."
"... Come in, then."
"It's locked."
"It's not now."
"It is, you need a... Oh... Never mind..."
She murmurs with slow realisation as she pushes open the door despite the fact it should be impossible to do so without a key. Padding hesitantly into the room, she surveys her surroundings sombrely, and finds no sign of the darker woman, thus concluding her to be in the small, adjoining bathroom. Moving over to stand in the doorway, she regards the Mayor warily as the latter reciprocates from her reclined position in the narrow, chipped bathtub.
Regina takes in wet lashes and peaky features and sighs.
"Sorry about that... I told you... I needed to be sick."
She explains weakly, and the Sheriff hesitates for just a moment, before nodding in understanding and slinking a little further into the compact bathroom. Giving in to the exhaustion that eats at her from inside, she slides down the dirty, tiled wall to sit with her knees up by her chin with her arms hugged around then tightly.
"...Do you hate me?"
Emma inquires quietly; speaking to the damp towel that lines the floor rather than to the woman in the bath. The brunette looks up sharply from her contemplation of the bubbles that coat the surface of her bathwater, regarding the younger woman sternly.
"Why on earth would I do that?"
"I don't... I just... Because Henry..."
The Sheriff chokes nonsensically, and the Mayor sighs heavily as she looks down at the shallow graze that mars the smooth skin of her knee.
"Of course I don't hate you... Emma, you've had to take in an impossible amount of bizarre- and simply insane- information over the past year, and put up with a whole lot of drama you didn't even really understand... Found out a lot of things that confused you, shocked you and hurt you... I just wasn't expecting to have to do the same today... It was a lot to take, and it wasn't a pleasant realisation, I'll give you that... And, I'll tell you another thing... The next time I say a word about your drinking or your irritable tendencies, you have my full permission to tell me- as you would say- where I can shove it..."
She hopes for a giggle, but she gets little more than a watery sniff of amusement, which she supposes she'll still gladly take.
"... I don't hate you, dear."
She repeats quietly.
"That's too bad... You were so good at it..."
the blonde murmurs glumly into the denim of her jeans, and Regina smiles wearily and closes her eyes.
"I'm good at lots of things."
"I know, and you don't let me forget it..."
She sarks, before looking up at the Queen solemnly and speaking in a hollow voice.
"I'm sorry, Regina."
The brunette rolls her eyes with feigned irritation- despite the fact that several tears roll down her cheeks to taint her bathwater- and addresses the Sheriff sternly.
"You have nothing to be sorry for, Emma."
"I just... I don't know what to do..."
And then the choked rasp to her voice really does break into miserable sobbing and she buries her face into her knees. Leaning over a little awkwardly, the Mayor wipes her hand a few times on the soft wool of the younger woman's sweater- the latter unresponsive to such ministrations- before petting the blonde's hair gently. She imagines she is doing so in a way similar to how one might stroke a dog, but her position makes it difficult to offer up any alternative comfort, and she doesn't think Emma minds. Waiting for the Sheriff's crying to die down into the occasional exhausted sniff, she speaks softly as the blonde turns her head slightly to the side- long lashes closed and wet- and makes gentle circles with her thumb at the latter's temple.
"We don't have to 'do' anything, dear... It... It is what it is; we can't change it... We'll talk to Gold and see where we stand... It's your choice, Emma, but I think you need to speak to this 'Neal' and explain to him just what he did to you, and ask him why the hell he did it! For your own peace of mind!... And, I think... I think we'll have to tell Henry... But then there's probably a few things we need to tell Henry..."
"... What do you mean?"
Tense. Anxious. Wary.
The brunette pays this no mind, simply continuing to run her fingers through dishevelled tresses.
"I mean... You're a grown woman living with her parents and maybe you should think about moving out to live with your child..."
"Regina... Are you suggesting..."
"...You know what I'm suggesting. It simply makes sense. We can figure this all out, dear... I love you, and Henry loves you... The rest? It will fall into place... This trip has been pure hell, Miss Swan, but... I still enjoyed being with you... I've learnt a lot of things today, Emma, but I think if I'm going to ponder on any of them, I'd like that to be the one... Now get out of the way; this water is freezing and there's no room for me to dry myself off with you sat there taking up half the bathroom."
She admonishes, suddenly stern, giving the younger woman an amiable pat on the head before shooing her away; the Sheriff finally chuckling throatily as she scrambles to her feet and out the door to wait in the bedroom.
Regina smirks as she wipes away the salt water at her cheeks along with the rest; feeling suddenly lighter than she has done since they got to this hellhole. Regarding herself curiously in the mirror, she shakes out her hair and folds her towel around herself primly before sauntering into the bedroom with a smile.
She finds Emma standing awkwardly in the middle of the room with her arms outstretched and she walks into them swiftly; burying her face into the younger woman's sweater and breathing in the latter's favoured scent of soft honey beneath the mixture of harsher smells that cling to her from the outside world.
"Just so you know... I'm no good with words like you are... But I agree with everything you said..."
"Good, that's a great start to any cohabiting relationship; total and complete compliance and worship."
"I think you may have twisted my words just slightly..."
"It's not my fault you struggle to form a coherent sentence."
"Actually, I don't like you. I want to move out..."
Emma mutters, and the brunette laughs, pressing her lips against the blonde's firmly.
"... You taste of salt..."
"What are you trying to say?!"
The Sheriff cries with mock offence to try and hide her awkwardness, but the act is a little flawed as her eyes are still a telling pink and her cheeks stained with tear tracks.
"I'm saying I think you should go wash your face, dear."
"Hm, fine."
"Really? That's it? No argument?"
"No. In fact, give me a minute to sort myself out and try and pull a brush through my hair."
"Oh? What's the occasion?"
The Mayor inquires with a smirk, and the blonde offers a long-suffering sigh that has the former chuckling darkly.
"Well... I've done what Gold asked of me. And, I know he's going to have questions, and I know I should probably talk to him, and I know things are far from sorted and all of that, but fuck it!... I did my part, and he can just damn well wait... I've had enough for one day-"
"-Ah, and you want good hair to suit your new, brazen, devil may care attitude?"
"... As I was saying- though now I'm beginning to wonder why in the hell I'd want to!- I do believe that earlier I told you I would show you around town once we found Baelfire... Well... We found him... So..."
"We did... Now ask me properly."
"Huh?"
"You're asking me out on a date; do it properly."
"Shit, Regina, you want me to get down on one knee, too?"
"Oh, I'd like that very much, dear."
"... Twenty minutes. Get dressed."
"...A date? A date with Emma Swan? Why yes, I'd love to!"
"...You're lucky you're hot."
"And I love you, too, dear."