As they leave the motel- an anxious breath held in by each of them in fear of running into either Gold or his son on their way out- there is an awkward silence between them that amuses the brunette greatly. She glances at Emma out of the corner of her eye with a smirk, watching as the younger woman's gaze flickers about nervously and catching the way she seems to be walking with pointed, confident swagger.
She chuckles quietly, and glittering green flashes in her direction before the younger woman adopts a small smile; pretty sure she has some idea as to what has the Mayor so tickled.
Clearing her throat in an attempt to quit feeling like a fifteen-year-old out on their first date, Emma moves to slide her hand into Regina's own and frowns when the darker woman shakes her head and pulls her palm away.
"I was making fun of you when I kept calling this a date, dear."
"But... It is a date... I thought-"
"-Oh, it is... And I expect to be well and truly- how did you put it?- 'wooed'... But I would hazard a guess that hand-holding isn't really your style, and I don't want you to do it just because you think you should... It's not you."
She explains, inwardly continuing this statement in her head with the fact that- all this aside- she would quite happily have the younger woman hold her hand at any given moment. However, she stands by what she says; liking Emma for, well, Emma, and all of her awkwardness aside.
To her surprise, the blonde offers her a sunny smile in response, followed by hooking a slim arm around her neck, and laughing lightly as she impedes their stroll so that it becomes a lilted and stumbling embrace; teeth flashing brightly, and long hair whipping about to tickle the Mayor's cheek. The latter lets out a low chuckle of amusement and presses her lips firmly to the Sheriff's cheek- feeling incredibly free in doing so in the middle of the street- before she pushes her away gently with playful admonishment.
"At least try and uphold some dignity, you loon!"
Gathering herself, Emma nods in silent apology; settling for simply stalking beside the Mayor in a fashion far more similar to that with which the brunette is accustomed.
"So... What do you want to do?"
The Sheriff inquires a little sheepishly, and the darker woman smirks and shakes her head.
"I thought you were going to 'show me the sights', dear? That you had this whole magnificent date planned?"
"Well... I... I mean I guess we could go to Staten Island... Or maybe the Met... Or-"
"-Emma, it doesn't matter where we go... Just show me what you would do when not in Storybrooke."
"Well... It's a little early to hit the bar..."
The Sheriff jokes, but the Mayor simply shrugs, and makes a gesture with her hand to suggest she is willing to overlook this fact. Smiling in return, the younger woman nods to their right and leads them deeper into the city, confiding huskily
"Ok, I have an idea."
Whether this is a promise or a threat, the brunette is unsure. She simply follows.
The streets of Manhattan are encrusted with Christmas lights, and they pass by several bell-toting Santas in various stages of morbid obesity as they mill around the bustling sidewalks. The decorations are both garish and impressive -overwhelming yet wonderful- and both women express their surprise as they peer companionably into windows dusted with faux snow that recent events have led them to completely forget about the fast approaching holiday.
"Ordinarily, I have to get myself strictly organised, as Henry's birthday- well... the one we have celebrated over the years- falls so soon after."
"When are you ever not organised, Madame Mayor?"
Emma responds through a mouthful of hot chocolate- having brought herself a steaming cup of sweetness and the Mayor a similar styrofoam vessel holding spiced wine- paying any awkwardness derived from the Queen's words no mind. Regina smiles, sipping delicately at her own beverage.
"I like to keep things in order, true... This year things just all got a bit out of hand..."
"Yeah... I... I guess Henry didn't really get to celebrate his birthday after all-"
Catching herself swiftly, she hurries to rectify her statement
"-I mean, how I'd wanted to spend his actual birthday with him... I'm sure after Christmas your meal and everything will be-"
"-Our meal."
"Huh?"
"I told you... Things have changed. If it's what you want then you'll celebrate Christmas with him and then his birthday- that birthday- just as you should... And he bares you no grudge, dear... You had a better excuse than most."
The brunette's brow furrows darkly at this, but she doesn't dwell on the matter; not wanting to spoil what is proving to be a wonderfully comfortable afternoon.
A gentle warmth against her arm as the Sheriff stands a little closer, and she smiles. The blonde reciprocates.
"Come on."
A small nudge against her shoulder, and Regina follows the younger woman curiously as the latter hurries down the street with a sudden sense of purpose. Coming to a halt before the glittering veils of a colossal christmas tree, Emma grins as the Mayor's eyes widen in surprise, and she is dimly struck by the idea that what she is seeing- who she is seeing- is the young woman that had belonged to the divine body she knows so very well, before things had all gone so terribly wrong.
She sees the awe-struck, innocent, kind-hearted daughter of a snake-like woman and her downtrodden spouse that would one day deem herself to be the Evil Queen.
Only... That title is dead and forgotten now.
The book was wrong.
"It's magnificent..."
The brunette breathes, and she turns to find the younger woman beaming at her.
"It's pretty cool, yeah... But, it's not why we're here."
"Oh?"
"Look to your left."
The Mayor does as she is told and raises an eyebrow in amusement as she regards the impressive window display of the toystore before them.
"A toy shop."
"Not a toy shop. The toy shop. FAO Schwarz. They have pretty much anything you could think of!"
Green eyes shimmer brilliantly, and the older woman laughs; rolling her own dark orbs beneath sooty lashes.
"You're such a child..."
"Not for me, you idiot! You just said Christmas kind of snuck up on us... We can take a look for Henry..."
Regina smiles; ignoring the blonde's name calling and picking up on the last hint of shyness that laces otherwise lazy drawl.
She doesn't tell Emma to desist with her worrying. Doesn't vocalise the fact that, yes, it is still a little obscure that the two of them should be gift shopping for the boy together. She doesn't console that last flicker of fear in the younger woman's eyes by telling her that she thinks their current situation is possibly more of a blessing unto Henry than anything either of them could wrap.
She just sticks to what's familiar and sighs theatrically as though suffering the company of a fool, and tells the Sheriff to lead the way.
By the time they finish shopping- Regina having pointed out a few further stores with window displays that served to catch her interest- darkness has fallen, and the twinkling lights of the city amaze and bedazzle as a different festive tune seems to play from every street corner.
Despite her earlier teasing, there has been very little romantic effort on Emma's part; sex- both rough and tender- is something that seems almost second nature to them by now and so is not her focused goal for the evening. What is new and exciting, is this curious freedom to just be normal. To be friendly towards one another and to laugh and poke fun, and to needle out the final, fractured, hidden parts that make each woman who she is.
Of course, to imagine that one would be able to figure out the other completely within the space of an evening is both ludicrous, and unhealthy... But each of them suffers the burden of questions pertaining to the tips of deep-seated emotional icebergs that have been touched upon during their time together, and swiftly buried away behind narrowed eyes gleaming with the wounded distrust of a wild beast that has been forced to accept that she will always be hunted.
There are questions that each wishes to ask of the other.
But there are also answers that deserve to finally come out.
For this reason, after passing by several small, beautifully stylish restaurants that she imagines would be right up the Mayor's alley- and a welcome change to Granny's in the brunette's eyes- the Sheriff stops outside the loud and tacky promise of the Hard Rock Cafe and turns to the Queen.
"In here we can talk... Plus, it's kind of fun..."
She adds with a small, self-deprecating smirk, and she is both surprised and relieved when the brunette doesn't question her words as the thrum of music and chatter is audible from outside.
In here they can be anyone they want to be.
In here, they can blend in, talk, love, disappear.
And they make a decent enough burger if memory serves me correctly.
The younger woman's mind pipes up, and she imagines it's a good thing that Regina is not a mindreader as well as magic. The thought has her grinning, but when the brunette inquires as to what has her so tickled, she simply shrugs and allows a young girl in pin-studded suspenders to lead them through to a table near the back.
She orders them cocktails with a dismissive wave of her hand as Regina mentions their extortionate price, and this sparks the Mayor into going first in their session of feeling each other out.
"You're paying?"
"I said I'd take you out."
"You paid for the room..."
"Yes, they tend to prefer it when you do."
"You have money..."
"...Yes."
"More than Sheriff's wages."
The Mayor prompts, and Emma offers a small nod of thanks to the waitress that comes bearing two large, colourful glasses, before sitting back and accepting the bait.
"I do... That said, to be fair, Mary Margaret has never actually asked me to pay rent, nor would she accept any amount I suggested to her. That would have saved me a fair bit of money, but the idea did nothing for my self worth. I have been wiring her money after opening her bank statement accidentally-on-purpose for almost six months now, and I'm pretty sure she still hasn't caught on. $600 a month. I think that's a fair price for the room and use of facilities... But you're right; I have money. What I was doing before coming to Storybrooke was well paid, and I was good at it. Often, cash in hand, and with a large amount of my meals and clothes paid for by default. I had a nice apartment... You would probably have liked it, actually. It was fairly large, and I decorated it minimally, but tastefully... But that was all. Other than a few groceries and bills, I had no outgoings. The bug pretty much lived in a garage I'd made a deal for a long while back, and I was never around at the right time of night to bother with anything like cable. I earned a lot and spent little."
"What do you mean when you say that? That you were 'good' at it? How can one be better than another in your previous position?... At deception, of course, I can understand that... But, a job is a job?"
"True. And apart from perks and gifts, the price would be fixed whether it was me playing bait or someone else... It's about how many marks you can have on the go... How invested you get in it all. Don't forget... It's people's lives you're playing with... Some people get caught up in that and need to take a break after a successful hit... I never suffered from such problems."
She shrugs, and takes a sip of her cocktail; regarding the brunette pensively before forming a small smile around her straw.
"Of course, I also didn't drink slouched over like this."
"Oh?"
Regina asks with a similar smirk of amusement, eyes flashing as the younger woman shakes her head slowly and moves to sit up straight; bringing her arms closer to her body to make herself look curiously more feminine and accentuate her breasts. Emma adopts a darker expression and lets the straw play tantalisingly over her lips for a second before breaking into a fit of heady laughter as she unable to take the sudden hooded lust in the Mayor's own eyes.
"Just imagine if I'd been wearing a dress!"
She jokes, and the brunette laughs and sips at her own drink; purposefully, but silently pointing out that her own appeal has no such off-switch.
"Show off."
The blonde chides with no real trace of malice. The Mayor simply shrugs, her voice rich when she speaks
"Perhaps... But why not flaunt it if you have it, or so I was told to believe..."
"Told or taught?"
"Hmm?"
Full lips fall slowly from their catlike smile, and Regina regards Emma pensively as the latter waits for an answer. A waitress comes and goes to take their order, but there is no real reprieve from the question that lingers between them, and when the stout little woman walks off with her pad in her hand, the brunette sighs and takes the stage.
"That is a tricky one to answer, Miss Swan. Was I taught to behave in the exact fashion that I do? Of course not... But, was I taught to conduct myself in a manner to get what I want? Yes... That was drilled in quite early on."
"...Because your mother wanted you to marry into royalty...?"
"Indeed. Or, at the very least, to marry into nobel blood, but I believe she had always held on to hope that I should wed our family into royalty... It was something she wanted for the longest time... A strange ambition for a Miller's daughter, but one she never laid to rest. As such... Everything from the way I spoke, to the way I dressed, to the way I walked was cultivated towards this 'greater life' she'd built up in her head... And the repercussions for stepping out of line were quite severe..."
"...She hurt you?"
There is a little too much camaraderie in the younger woman's eyes as she asks this last, and Regina frowns, choosing her words carefully.
"She used force, and she used her powers... Both magical and psychological... Occasionally this would leave its mark... But my mother never intended any physical harm unto me; of that I am sure."
"...That's not a 'no'..."
"No. It isn't. I told you what became of Daniel... That was the wound that bled deepest within my heart... But she bruised it quite excruciatingly long before she took him from me-"
"-Ketchup or Mayonnaise? Are you alright for drinks?"
A waitress interrupts as she places their food-laden plates before them, and the Queen swiftly quells her initial reaction to punish the dumb wretch where she stands. Emma seems to catch on to the sudden danger hinted within her expression and she turns to the woman with a wry smile and a dismissive tone.
"Both. And please bring over a bottle of red wine- whatever your house red is- but don't interrupt us again. My friend and I have a couple of things to discuss, and we would greatly appreciate being left alone to do so."
It is a curt, eloquent, cool request, and not like any other the brunette has heard come from the Sheriff's lips. Raising an eyebrow as the waitress nods and hurries away, she watches thoughtfully as the blonde sighs and sips the last of her cocktail.
Emma reads the question that lingers in the silence easily.
"I know you often take me for a fool, and it's not an act, it's just... The way I can come across... But this is the world I grew up in. The world that I worked in. Sometimes a public place is the most appropriate in which to get to the bottom of private matters, but persuasion of those around you is occasionally required and necessary."
"Then that is a rule that transcends both worlds and castes... Though, I suppose technically you are a princess..."
"No-"
The younger woman replies; creating a large pool of garish red and white for dipping.
"-By blood, perhaps, but we both know I'm not... And I'm more than okay with that."
She smiles as she reddens the end of several french fries and snaps them up with that old, familiar, yet startling alacrity.
Looking down at her salad and bread and then over to Emma's burger, fries, and generous side of coleslaw; the Mayor watches as sharp teeth make swift work of salted potato and creamy slaw. She has grown accustomed to the younger woman's almost frenzied behaviour when it comes to food- the blonde dulling her obscurity down expertly, but unable to break curious habits completely- but it is only now that they seem to have agreed to this amiable parlay that she openly acknowledges the fact.
"Are you worried you'll starve, dear?"
She taunts, but her tone is free from its rich arrogance, and her expression demands an answer.
She gets one in the form of the Sheriff's middle finger, but when this does nothing to deter her patient stare, the younger woman swallows her mouthful and licks her lips with an odd sort of delicacy; wiping her hands on her napkin and regarding the remainder of her food moodily.
"Who knows what's going to happen tomorrow and when we're going to get to eat if Gold-"
"-Emma..."
"No. I'm not... Not logically... It's... It's..."
"Habit?"
"Something like that."
"From when you were younger."
Emma rolls her eyes.
"Yes, but that makes it sound like the kid from 'A Child Called It' or something."
"Excuse me?"
"Doesn't matter... It's just... It's hard to talk about and not sound like... I dunno... A charity case or something."
"Try me."
"Fine...Yes; things were unstable, and once you've moved around for the fifth or sixth time because a family changed their mind or flat out decided 'this isn't working out', you kind of... You learn to expect it. You get somewhere and for a while everything's great and there's clothes and there's food... And then it just goes away... Not always... But it can... There's a benefit to fostering, see; you get paid to do it. There's a lot of people out there that want that money more than they actually want the kids. People that don't know a goddamn thing about raising a child... And the thing is, you can't like... Threaten disappointment or withhold affection, when there was no expectation or affection in the first place... But you can withhold food. It makes obedience training remarkably easy."
"Surely that's not allowed?"
"By law? No. Probably not. But then that's one of the frustrating things about foster homes; lack of attorneys."
"I see..."
"So... When the food's there to eat; eat the food. Simple."
The Sheriff shrugs in a way that begs an end to that particular topic. She goes back to her dinner with rigid control; matching the Mayor forkful for forkful, and the darker woman clenches her jaw at the idea of the Sheriff as a girl- unkempt and too skinny- in a house far too full of noise and devoid of love, but she says nothing more on the matter other than
"A sensical philosophy, Miss Swan."
"It's no different really though, is it?"
Comes the belated reply, and Regina looks up in surprise; having thought the blonde tapped out on the subject.
"What isn't?"
"Manipulation... Magic or food... Love or even a few scraps of attention... You look sad because of what I just told you, and it's the same kind of look you've been throwing me since we got here. You feel pity for me that I had nothing in the sense of food or family... Well, I pity you because you did... Every mealtime being a feast means very little if you have no appetite for it. Family that attends to every need and surveys every flaw... Love that derives from the need to 'fix' things, as if you were some broken piece of machinery... You still weren't good enough, Regina, or so they made you feel..."
"I..."
"So the philosophy applies. If it makes them want you, if it makes them love you, if it makes them like you; do it."
The brunette blinks as if she has been slapped around the face, and she feels tears prickle dangerously in her eyes; wanting nothing more than to scream at the woman that sits eerily calm before her to shut up. To demand that she beg forgiveness for speaking in such a way about her Queen. To envelop her into a tight embrace and plead in the voice of a child for this strange, wonderful, irksome woman- who seems to know so much and yet also so little- to please, oh please, never let her go.
"How far did you take that theory...?"
She breathes, and it is little more than whisper.
She means for the Sheriff to elaborate on her relationship with Baelfire; Emma having claimed that he had used her, but she doesn't want to approach the subject outright. She regrets her ambiguous wording when met with the younger woman's response.
"The 'homes between homes'- the ones where they bunk you up and decide where to ship you off next after the last place failed- they'd always say the same thing... Some kids, they'd get 'oh you're just so polite, we should have no problem finding you somewhere this time'. Some kids it's cute, some it's clever, some it's mild-mannered, but what they mean by that is a couple of cards short of the deck, but in a vague, hazy, easy way... Me; it was always 'pretty'. Always. 'Oh, Emma, you're such a pretty, little thing, I'm sure you'll just make their hearts melt!'... And... Well... Sometimes the husband or father or whatever would agree... But, hey, it was my talent, so why not?!"
She hisses bitterly, and the brunette grabs a hold of a pale hand that gestures wildly as the blonde becomes animated in her anger.
"...How many times? Surely they must have kept an eye on you if something like... That... Happened?!"
"You seem to be overestimating the system, but, yes, maybe if I'd said something they'd have kept tabs or whatever-"
"-You never said anything?!"
"If it makes them like you; do it."
The younger woman replies tonelessly, and Regina closes her eyes and bites her bottom lip.
"Emma..."
"It doesn't matter. It never worked... I still got bounced around. Which means either I was that much of a burden to keep around, or I just wasn't that pretty after all."
It is a cold, placid tone she uses as she vocalises this sentiment, and, just as she herself had looked upon the Mayor and imagined her as she must have been in her youth, so now the brunette does when looking at her; sharp features downturned and sullen. Posture slouched and defensive. The hand that had been held in hers pulled away and crossed moodily under the Sheriff's chest.
"...You're pretty; I've seen you in about as many lights as you could see a person, and you've always been pretty... You're hard... I don't believe for a second you ever took life lying down, whether you lived by that motto or not... What one does when desperate does not speak for their character in its entirety, Emma... It will anger you if I tell you that you are- and I will plead presumptive and say 'were' also- a very troubled young woman... It may anger you, but it doesn't mean that it's not true. Nor does it mean you can't also be strong, and have fought tooth and nail to get through it...
If I knew nothing about you apart from what little I knew a couple of days after you arrived in town- who you were- I would still have found you to be entirely mad should you not have been troubled... would I have cared? No. And I didn't... But it says nothing about your abilities or you as a person that you are. You are an amazing person... But a troubled child- a broken toy- will inevitably be cast aside in a world where none of the hands through which she passes have any real interest to begin with.
You tried to put the pieces back together, I know... But Emma, the thing is, a child, when it fixes a broken vase- a smashed up toy- will use excessive amounts of sticky tape, and globs of putty, and messy slathers of glue. The parts will hold, but no one is fooled, really... An adult knows how to do things a little more delicately. With a little more finesse... That way... You can barely see the cracks..."
Holding out her hand once more, she smiles warmly when the blonde takes it; watching Emma's thumb rub repetitively over her first two knuckles as she swallows audibly.
"Thank you..."
"You are most welcome, dear."
The Mayor responds, giving the hand in hers' a firm squeeze before letting go to pluck up her wine glass. She studies the Sheriff over the brim; watching as Emma gathers herself and mentally checks that all parts are working and looking as they should.
Regina can almost pin-point the exact moment the younger woman's psyche brushes itself off and accepts a draw, and the blonde sniffs as she teases lamely
"Ok, my turn... What's with cutting off all of Mary Margaret's hair?"
The remainder of the evening is a blur of lights, cold winter air and wine sipped in a quieter, more stylish bar. A few more personal facts are learnt on either side, but the questioning is tentative; their topics so far leaving the blonde fretting that talk may turn to Neal, and the Queen struck by the uneasy notion that Emma might suddenly turn around to her and voice the opinion that, were it not for the curse, she would unlikely have been through what she has divulged tonight.
Of course, she knows the Sheriff would never say such a thing... Not anymore.
She is just unsure whether she would find such an accusation to be entirely unjust.
Sensing a lull in their chatter as they finally make their way a little tipsily back towards the motel; Emma pauses for a second, studying the brunette's withdrawn, pensive expression, before pulling the darker woman swiftly into the darkened cove of an alleyway to their right. Crashing her lips down heavily into Regina's, she speaks with some difficulty against nipping teeth and duelling tongue.
"Finding out about Neal aside... I want you to know... This has probably been one of the best days of my life..."
Neither of them mention that as a mother, it would be logical for Henry's birth to take this prime position.
Nor do they mention the fact that less than a week ago the younger woman's gruelling search and aching for a family was finally answered.
They don't mention these things as, for Emma, the trauma of Henry's birth could never compare to the first time the two of them had properly connected; properly found that missing bond.
They don't mention these things, because in reality, the Saviour's search for a family had ended not in the breaking of the curse, but on that afternoon when the Queen had relented and granted her the day with her son.
When Regina had come crashing through into that hateful apartment looking for her.
No... They say none of this, but instead simply smile, as the blonde's warm weight pushes the Mayor hard against the wall in a sweet but promising fashion.
Brushing aside a stray curl of hair from the younger woman's flushed cheek, Regina purrs against softly parted lips.
"Well then... I sincerely hope that this date ends with an invitation up into the bedroom."
A denim-clad thigh works its way swiftly between her legs in response as the blonde growls against her scarlet smirk
"Hmmm... Let's see shall we?"