Standing in the middle of her own bedroom now, the Sheriff lets out a sound that is somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and she imagines the comedown she will eventually suffer from the adrenaline that has coursed through her body today will be most severe. Her mind feels like a diseased tooth pulsing away inside her skull, but her heart feels full and her stomach flutters with butterflies.
I love you, and Henry loves you... The rest? It will fall into place...
She allows a curiously childlike smile to creep across her features, before chuckling huskily as she imagines she must look quite mad.
Stalking over to the bag she had tossed on the dresser upon entering and crossing her fingers that she has actually remembered to pack some form of hairbrush- having borrowed the brunette's this morning for minimal teasing in the hopes of looking mildly presentable- she finds that luck is on her side in this instance, and retrieves hard, sadistic bristles along with a tube of mascara and some tinted lip balm she finds rolling around with the lint at the bottom.
Her rummaging has the cheap plastic of her phone slipping out to clunk dully onto the wobbly dresser, and she nips her bottom lip between her teeth in mild amusement as the brunette's voice fills her head with sultry, disdainful drawl.
Oh, don't bother keeping your phone on you or anything. It's not like I might need to get hold of you given as you're the Sheriff now, Miss Swan.
She shrugs; never really having had a whole lot of interest in what anyone might have to relay unto her before Storybrooke.
She had tried to explain this to Regina a little later on in their relationship- 'post nakedness', as she determines that specific timeframe in her own mind- by patiently going over the fact once more that yes, she had relied on technology to do her job as a bail bondsman, but that this had predominantly consisted of scrolling through emails and various internet sites with a vodka and lime in her hand and husky grit on the music system. For a very brief stint, she had added a Virginia Slim between her lips into the mix and created the holy trinity, but she had decided soon after that it simply wasn't worth the morning aftertaste.
Now, she brings the phone to life dutifully after being reminded of its existence and smiles despite herself as she encounters three small text message icons in the left hand corner she must have missed earlier in her shocked state.
Given as she is off the clock and with the only person she frequently makes plans with, there is a touch of warmth that comes from seeing those blinking little envelopes from the other people that she is finally ready to admit care for her as she cares for them.
The first is from Mary Margaret
MM: Hi Emma, we hope all is going well over there and that you have managed to do what you needed to do. Please message us to let us know how you are when you get a chance. We wish you luck, and will see you soon. Mary Margaret, James, Henry xx
For a moment she suffers some confusion as to who in the hell 'James' is, but then her brain kicks into gear and she chews her lip awkwardly. To receive a 'family' message is a little overwhelming to say the least, but she doesn't miss the fact that- though she refers to David by his false Storybrooke name- Mary Margaret has kept her own name familiar, and there is not a doubt in the blonde's mind that her housemate has done so with careful consideration of her feelings.
The second message is from Ruby
Deputy Lucas: Hello, Clarice... Hit a girl up and let her know you're still alive, please? Have you found Gold's kid yet?... Is he hot? ;) Miss you lots! XOXO
A choked, exasperated noise at this last question, and Emma makes a mental note to enter herself into the young brunette's phone under a similarly bemusing pseudonym as Ruby has apparently taken it upon herself to do in hers.
The last is yet another from Mary Margaret.
MM: Bit concerned that we still haven't heard from you, but I guess I know that you're OK anyway... Weather is awful here and I found your good winter coat behind the door. Wrap up warm! Henry says hi xx
She rolls her eyes, but not unkindly; the raven headed woman's checking up on her and worrying about her ability to dress herself appropriately a habit going back much further than the breaking of the curse.
She feels a momentary twinge of guilt as it is only now that she truly appreciates that fact rather than finding it irritating.
Running a finger pensively over her bottom lip, she replies to Mary Margaret first.
Hi. I'm ok. Debt has been paid, but will explain in more detail when I see you. X
Relaying much the same message to Ruby
Hello, deputy. I'm alive. I really can't answer that! I will explain when I see you. You do? Personally, I'm stoked to be shot of you for a while ;) X
Pulling a face as she opens up the schoolteacher's second message once more, she supposes there's no point holding back on the gushy stuff given as she's already- and she imagines she will regret this sooner rather than later- promised to 'explain things', i.e. 'talk about them', to several people once back home. Tapping back swiftly with a crooked grin; she presses send before she can edit the message to suit her usual, nihilistic style.
PS. Relax, mom, I've got this. Sweaters and coats are being worn, promise. Tell Henry his moms say hi :)... Miss you. E. Xx
She chuckles at her own expense as she is fairly sure the raven headed woman will suffer a mild coronary due to shock of receiving the latter of her two messages, but she feels incredibly good for it. Tossing her phone back in the bag- deeming the fact that Regina possesses one of these mysterious devices also, and actually tends to use hers to suffice on the whole 'being contactable' front- she hurries into the bathroom and washes her face with cold water.
She spies the more substantial makeup she had used earlier before confronting Gold, but leaves it untouched in favour of the items plucked from her bag. She is neither a big fan of the stuff, nor is she very adept at applying it, and she has yet to see the point of trying when she knows she is only going to spend her time next to a woman whose own technique is flawless.
Besides; certain comments here and there have led her to believe that Regina in fact prefers the pale, imperfect and marked features that stare back at her now through the glass, and she's not about to argue with anything that requires minimal effort on her part.
She rolls her own eyes to save the brunette the trouble.
Pulling her brush through long hair with several hissed expletives, she shakes out glossy locks once she's done; pulling her hair away from her face for a second before deciding it still looks decent enough down and letting it fall back heavily over her shoulders. She applies mascara and lip balm with the briskness of one used to doing their make up in the bathroom stall of a bar rather than sat at the luxury of a dressing table, and assess her face from both sides before deeming herself acceptable.
Hurrying back into the bedroom, she is about to make for the door, when she is struck by a sudden idea which has an impish grin spreading wickedly across rose-tinted lips.
Regina makes it twenty-six minutes before a much more confident knock to the one she'd received earlier comes at her door.
Smoothing down the better pair of pants she'd brought with her and fluffing her hair, she stalks to the door and opens it with a flourish; smirking as she looks the blonde up and down and concludes her to look much the same as twenty-six minutes ago, just a little less windswept and weepy.
"You look exactly the same."
She teases huskily, acutely aware of the way glittering eyes give her an appreciative once over to match her own. Her sarcasm is simply fed back to her, as Emma licks her lips thoughtfully in a most distracting manner; offering a sly grin and replying smartly
"My true form is the one that pleases Her Majesty most."
The Mayor offers this sentiment a withering expression, but her eyes flicker back to softly curved lips without any pretence.
The younger woman susses the object of the brunette's affection and she smiles widely, before taking a step back to hinder the Queen in brushing delicate scarlet against her prize.
"Wait, wait, you wanted to do this properly, remember?"
"... Go on..."
Regina sighs; curious, but bemused as she recognises that pixie-like glint in the Sheriff's eyes to be one of definite mischief.
Teeth bared brilliantly, the blonde reveals something in the hand which the Mayor had previously neglected to notice she'd been holding behind her back.
"...What is that?"
The brunette inquires with a disgusted wrinkle of her nose.
"A corsage! You wanted a proper date; and the way it works here is-"
"-I know what a corsage is, Miss Swan, I'm a Queen, not an idiot. Where do you think the tradition arose? Perhaps I should rephrase my question in a way you might have more luck in understanding: what the hell is that?"
She points at the dirty tuft of green in the younger woman's hand and sighs theatrically as the latter feigns excessive hurt.
"I worked with what I had!"
The blonde chuckles at the brunette's continued loyalty to her bemused, placid expression and examines her offering herself before tossing it absent-mindedly aside to land in the hallway in a way that suddenly has the Queen's stomach clenching, as this small act serves to make things for just a second as if none of the ordeal with Gold, with Emma being gone, with Bae, ever happened. It is something she would once have snapped irritably at the Sheriff for, and for that, she is truly thankful.
"Well, that was a bust, can I use your sink to wash my hands?"
The blonde asks with that same sarcastic smile, and Regina kisses her swiftly- catching the younger woman's wrist deftly as she does so, as, all love aside, she doesn't trust Emma for a second not to find it hilarious to wipe her hand on the expensive wool of her coat- before ushering her into the room to wash her hands as requested.
"Do I want to know where you got that... Moss? Was it moss?"
"It was growing on the windowsill."
"Delightful."
"Well... You know... I'm not sure if you've noticed, Madame Mayor, but I know a thing or two about wooing a woman."
"... Oh god."