Emma stared morosely at the grilled cheese in front of her, slumped in her seat as she picked at the crust without actually eating it. Graham's temper had not abated, not in the least: he maintained his bitchiness the whole way to the White Rabbit, transforming briefly to persuade Ruby to open the bar "a teensy bit earlier? Because it's been an overwhelming sort of day already—oh, really? Oh, thank you, thank you—you're the best, Ruby!" And after that, he'd gone right back to being mad.

So mad, in fact, that he took his drink and abandoned her at the bar, all by her lonesome; choosing instead to take up a game of darts with Will Scarlet and Keith….Whatever-His-Name-Was.

And Emma was here, with naught but a sandwich to keep her company. She pulled at the crust, glaring at the steadily solidifying melted cheese. Gross.

"No good?"

She raised her eyes at the sound of Ruby's voice: the bartender-slash-waitress (or was it waitress-slash-bartender?) stood with her palms flat on the counter, a sympathetic look on her face: totally prepared for the old confiding in the bartender schtick.

Which was excellent, because Emma really needed a bartender to confide in right now. She was miserable, and she wanted to complain. She'd lost her keychain…had pissed off her not-gay-but-come-on-totally-gay partner… was still trying to shake off that nightmare…

"Emma?"

"I'm fine," she sighed, shoving the plate away, and rested her chin on her fist dejectedly. "Actually, I'm not fine. I'm depressed."

"About what?" Ruby prodded (though she didn't sound concerned enough, she was going to have to work on that). "Did you have a fight with Neal?"

"No, we're good, we're good, it's just…" She closed her eyes, trying to find a way to summarize all her problems without dictating a novel. "Eh."

"You miss him?"

"Something like that."

"Oh…" Ruby arched an eyebrow, a knowing smile unraveling on her face. "I see. You miss him." She put her hands on her hips, hmm-hmming. "Been a while, Sheriff?"

"No—" Emma gave her an exasperated look. "That's not what I meant."

"Hey, you don't have to be embarrassed, girl, I get it," Ruby grinned. "He's super hot, and you got needs."

"I wasn't talking about—"

"You're frustrated, you're lonely—probably had an entire bottle of wine to yourself every night he's been gone—"

"Ruby—"

"And isn't it a bitch?" Ruby went on, apparently not hearing her. "I mean, when I tell you I get it, believe me—I get it. Like, don't get me wrong, dating a neurotic, codependent, alcoholic pirate is a nightmare and a half, but I'll say this for him: he knows what he's doing."

"Okay!" Emma said loudly. "Time to close the sharing circle!"

Ruby looked up with a frown. "Pardon?"

"The sharing circle of sexual frustration? Shut it down. I'm not listening to this, not today."

The waitress-slash-bartender looked rather offended, but Emma couldn't find it within herself to care. Between her teenage son turning into a supervillain and the growing zombie population—not to mention, the recent loss of her most prized possession— she didn't have room for "Ruby's sexual frustration" on her list of concerns.

"Now," she continued, clearing her throat, "if you don't mind, I'd like another drink—something strong."

"Hmm." Ruby smiled mirthlessly. "Isn't that a damn shame, my bar's suddenly closed."

"Oh, come on!" Emma snapped as Ruby sauntered off, leaning over the counter to yell after her. "Ruby, you can't close the bar just because I don't feel like girl-talking! This isn't how you run a business!"

Ruby tossed a smirk over her shoulder, and walked off, every guy glancing up to watch her leave—which Emma would have called leering, if she didn't know that Ruby would have considered that a accomplishment. Ruby had dressed as scantily as she dared at the diner, and now that she was working at the far less family-friendly White Rabbit, she was taking full advantage of the lax dress code: the less clothes she wore, the more tips she gathered.

Emma sat back in her chair, scoffing. She didn't judge Ruby for her slutty-bartender routine—after all, she was an adult, and she did have the body of an Elf-Princess-Warrior-Whatever from Henry's video games—but abusing her position of power over the alcohol to punish Emma for not listening to her relationship woes? That was messed up. When she came to the bar, Emma assumed she was also paying for the pseudo-counseling the bartenders were supposed to offer.

"I'll be speaking to her supervisor about this," she muttered, deciding she had plenty of room on her list of concerns for pettiness.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket, checking to see if Neal had tried to call her back; cursing when all she saw was a text that read: Call you in a few hours, I'm dealing with a bad case of Killian Jones's man-pain. No one had time for Hook's man-pain! Why was this even an issue? Just because they were best friends, that didn't mean Neal had to be constantly on-call for emotional support and suicide prevention!

"We need new friends," she exhaled, pushing her phone away. Hook was a great third wheel (fantastic recipient for insults, and attractive enough to hang out with), but he was more trouble than he was worth. If only she could get Neal to agree to "breaking up" with him…

"Well, don't you look chipper today!"

She looked up, startled to see Robin on the stool next to her. "Hey," she blinked. "R-Robin, I totally didn't see you there."

"That's because I sat down two seconds ago," he explained with a shrug. "Mind if I join you?"

"Go for it," she shrugged.

"Thanks." Robin exhaled, and leaned over the counter, drumming his hands as he waited for Ruby to come by for his order. He was dressed more formally today, Emma realized, frowning at the green-tinted blazer he wore: still very Robin, wth the perpetual "woodland" theme, but missing his ratty scarf and hobo-vest.

"You look nice," she offered finally.

"How's that?"

"Nice," she repeated, gesturing at the blazer. "You look nice today, what's up?"

"Heard Regina's mother was back in town, wanted to make a good impression," he said shortly. "But with everything I've heard about her, I'm going to need a few shots of courage to get through it."

"Mmm," Emma agreed.

"Of course, this could all be for nothing," he added with a rueful smile. "Regina seems intent on keeping us apart. I've called her three times, she won't pick up…I think she might be embarrassed of me."

"Maybe she's protecting you from Cora," Emma said, lifting an eyebrow. "I mean, she is a crazy, narcissistic bitch with the powers of darkness at her disposal."

Robin looked at the ceiling, smirking. "To which are you referring?"

"Sassy." Emma pulled back with wide eyes, surprised. "I'm sensing some bitterness, Loxely."

"Long story, just…" Robin shook his head. "Never mind."

Emma nodded slowly, not knowing how to respond. "Well, you look nice, anyway," she said lamely. "Nice…blazer. Very you."

"Thank you," Robin smiled, adjusting the collar. "Or rather—thank Hook and Ruby. I bought it using my winnings from the last pool."

"Oh, you lucky bastard," Emma grinned. "There was this pair of boots I had my eye on, but…" She sighed, shaking her head regretfully. "I should have had more faith in those sluts. I only gave them three days, they lasted way longer this time around."

"I just hope they get back together soon," Robin remarked. "I blew half my money on Christmas presents this year, I need that pool."

"What pool?" an interested voice asked from the counter. Emma and Robin turned around: Ruby coming toward them, taking out her notepad for Robin's order. Her mascara-rimmed eyes roamed over Robin's blazer, an appreciative smile etched on her face.

"Mmm, you look pretty," she purred. "What's the occasion?"

"Er…" Robin blinked, evidently surprised by Ruby's attention. "I'm meeting people."

"People, huh?" Ruby put a hand on her hip, smiling flirtatiously. "And you're all nervous…That's so cute. You want a drink to settle your nerves, sweetie? I know you like your cosmopolitans."

Robin ignored the withering look Emma slid him, and shook his head. "How about something a little stronger?"

"I can do that," Ruby nodded, jotting something down.

"I wouldn't mind a drink," Emma added, looking over Robin's head. "Put it on my tab, and double it—I'll have what he's having."

"He's having one of my special cocktails," Ruby said, not looking up. "And you are having whatever you can get out of the vending machine. And no," she said, anticipating Emma's next words, "Jefferson doesn't care, so you can make as many complaints as you want—I'm not getting sacked."

Emma blew out a frustrated breath, dropping back in her seat. Robin looked over curiously as Ruby clattered around, fixing his drink.

What did you do? he mouthed.

Nothing.

Robin glanced at Ruby, who was very pointedly looking at Emma as she fixed one drink; he switched his gaze to Emma, who was glaring at the waitress-slash-bartender; then lifted his hands in surrender, giving up on dissecting the battle of female wills.

"There you go," Ruby smiled, sliding a glass over to him. "Drink up, babe."

"Thank you…" Robin tilted his head, squinting at the dark red drink. "Erm—what is it, exactly?"

"Strong." Ruby winked, propping herself up by her elbows as she leaned across the counter, still smiling. "A splash of cranberry and something from the Devil's liquor cabinet. You'll love it."

"Sounds exotic." Robin sniffed it experimentally. "Won't kill me, would it? You're used to mixing drinks for someone whose liver is far more resilient than mine."

"He really should be dead by now," Emma said (something she'd said about Hook several times before, actually). "Other than being two hundred something years old, the sheer amount of alcohol in his system should have killed him. by now."

"You would think," Robin mused, still looking apprehensive about his drink. "Actually, considering all the dangerous trouble he gets into, he should have died a long time ago. But he's survived, out of pure spite, I shouldn't wonder…" He trailed off, glancing down at his phone rang. "Oh, look at that," he murmured, raising his eyebrows. "Speak of the devil, and he shall appear—on your Caller I.D., no less."

Emma wrinkled her nose as he put the phone to his ear, tossing out a lazy greeting:

"Hook, you old bastard, how are you?…Yes, yes, I presumed as much." Robin picked at a loose string, looking faintly bored as Hook's electronically-pitched accent bitched at him. "Ah, I see…right…I'm fine, I'm fine—Roland misses his Uncle Killy, but—"

"Stop calling me that!" Hook's voice carried, so loudly even Emma heard it. Robin laughed, shaking his head at the amount of contempt Hook carried for that child.

"Oh, you really are a bastard, aren't you?" he chuckled. "Going straight to Hell, and riding with the windows down. Ah, well…No, I'm at the bar, hanging with Emma—you want to talk to her?"

"No!" Emma hissed, looking at him incredulously. "Are you fucking crazy? I don't want to—!"

It occurred to her that Hook was probably with Neal, and she'd been trying to get ahold of Neal for the past few hours, to update him on all the disasters going on and possibly seek a little comfort. "Actually, you know what, give me the phone," she said, gesturing. "Let me talk to him."

Robin passed her the phone, and went back to summoning courage to test his drink; Emma allowed herself time for a grimace before putting the phone to her ear, and saying briskly, "Let's make this as painless as possible—"

"Ugh—Swan? No, thank you, it's too early for your voice. Put Robin back."

"I don't want to talk to you," Emma said witheringly. "Is Neal there?"

"If you want to talk to Neal, call Neal," Hook scoffed. "What are you bothering me for?"

"He hasn't called me back, and since he's usually with you—"

"Why do you need to talk to Neal?" Hook interrupted. "Because if it's going to stress him out, you can't talk. I need him in a good mood, I hate dealing with stressed-Neal."

"There's a thing that happened wth Henry," Emma said evasively. "And it's sort of a parent-to-parent discussion, not a parent-to-weird-friend discussion."

Hook was quiet for a moment, considering. "Tsk… I can tell him to call you, but he's arguing with a guy over a space right now."

"Damn it." That could last forever. "All right, forget it, I'll just tell him later. Bye, slut—I'll see you tomorrow."

"Wait, before you go—!"

"What, oh, my God, what do you want?" Emma exhaled, as though he were doing her a great inconvenience.

"Could you, uh…could you tell Ruby something for me?" And without waiting for a response: "Could you tell her I miss her, and that…that my head hurts more when it's not been smashed against a picture frame?"

Emma crinkled her brow. "What?"

"It's a thing, she'll understand," he dismissed. "Can you just tell her?"

"What does that mean? You want me to smash your head into a picture frame, buddy? 'Cause I don't mind, I'll gladly—"

"NO," Hook said immediately. "I never want you and me dealing with picture frames, that's just—just—no, ugh, please, Swan, never speak of such things!"

"You're a freak," Emma decided. "Archie is wasting his time on you."

"Time better spent pulling apart that God complex you've got?" Hook retorted. "Will you tell her what I said, yes or no?"

"Fine," she said with a sidelong look at Ruby, who was encouraging Robin as he choked and sputtered over her concoction.

"And tell Robin he's the best, and give him a hug from me."

"Fine."

"And another one from Neal."

"Two hugs for Robin," Emma said, raising her voice some for the others' benefit (Robin smiled, despite looking rather green; Ruby raised her eyebrows, apparently waiting for her message). "I'm going to tell Roland his Uncle Killy says 'hi', too."

"Don't, Emma!" Hook said sternly. "Don't you dare encourage that child! You know how I feel about small children!"

"Yes," she agreed. "Bye, slut."

"Emma—!"

She hung up, sliding the phone back over to Robin. "Hugs from Hook, and you're the best," she exhaled, stealing his drink. "Hug from Neal, no comment—GAH!" She coughed, choking as Ruby's hellish cocktail burned down her throat. "The fuck is that?!"

"'Lucifer's Kiss'," was the prompt reply. "I invented it. Good, huh?"

"It's—! Well, actually, yeah, it's pretty good," Emma agreed, as the aftertaste settled in her mouth. She took another sip, gagging and choking again, her eyes watering; Ruby watched, pushing a rag around the counter.

"So, um…" She cast her eyes down, feigning indifference. "Did…?"

"Yeah," Emma said hoarsely, massaging her throat. "Totally forgot what he said, but I'm sure it was stupid. Can I have another?"

Ruby grimaced at the empty glass, and threw the rag over her shoulder. "Only 'cause I need to practice making it," she said, and started mixing the cocktail with jerky movements.

Emma smiled, and glanced over at Robin. "Drinking buddy?" she offered. "Want to work up some courage to meet Cora?"

"Yes, but I think I'll stick with the cosmopolitans," Robin sighed.

"Whatever you want, bro," she grinned, feeling much friendlier with the prospect of quality drinking on the way. "Are you any good at darts?"

"Something of a master," he admitted modestly.

"Great." Emma slapped the counter. "I suck. We should play a few rounds, rack up your confidence. You'll win for sure, and I get to throw things and get drunk."

"That kind of day?" Robin remarked, following her with his eyes she got up, tracking down a handful of darts. "Is it that bad?"

"Worse," she said cheerfully. "So much worse."