A/N: Once again thank you to you all for your reviews, I really do enjoy your comments! I hope this next instalment does not disappoint. We'll delve more into Robin's story soon, which will create a little drama... but in general this is going to be a fun, romantic piece. :) As always, I don't own the characters, and as a reminder, this is AU with no magic/curses/Storybrooke. Happy reading!

Regina stood in the pouring rain, on a tiny side street in Paris, surrounded by the old, stoic buildings, gazing around at her surroundings. From time to time she would just stop for a moment and observe the rain drip off the sides of the buildings and puddle in between the cracks on the slightly uneven cobblestone sidewalks and road, the cars swishing behind her or busy people walking brusquely past her with their Burberry umbrellas popped open.

Her trench coat was soaked, but under her arm her camera was tucked safely in a bag.

She had work to do, and only two hours before Henry got home from school. She needed to find inspiration for all of those blank pages that were staring back at her on her computer: she was under pressure to publish writing, to publish stories for her column. She needed to get work done this week, and come up with several brilliant ideas for her column that really featured life and fashion in Paris. Or so her boss had, essentially, told her.

No big deal.

Despite the pressure (and the moody weather), she was happy. Regina had been walking for a good hour or so, snapping a few photos here and there, making notes.

As she was jotting a note down on her phone, she saw that a text was coming in from Robin.

I'd like to see you. You cooked dinner Saturday night. Let me provide you with a meal sometime this week.

Her heart skipped a beat as she read the text. Adrenaline coursing through her hands, she composed a reply.

That sounds fair. I didn't know you cooked?

She ducked into a small cafe.

"Je prendrai un cafe au lait, s'il vous plait," she ordered from the man behind the bar, barely pulling her eyes from the screen of the phone.

I don't. But I know someone who does at a delicious little hole-in-the-wall restaurant near the Luxembourg Gardens.

She raised her eyebrows.

- Oh? And should I be worried about being taken to a hole-in-the-wall restaurant with the man who broke into my apartment?

She sipped the creamy coffee while she waited for the next reply.

Probably. But I assure you, you will have the best meal of your life.

- What an undeserved reward for a burnt lasagna. I do owe you another one, you know.

I'm sure you can make it up to me sometime. Somehow.

- You're quite confident.

I tend to be overly optimistic.

She smiled again.

- Thursday, then?

Thursday.

..•..

Regina hadn't dated much after Daniel passed away.

From time to time over the years, one of her coworkers would set her up with a friend or an acquaintance, but Regina found it hard to have time to date when she was a student and, later, when working, when she also had a young son at home. She generally wanted to spend her precious time after a long day at work with Henry, reading books or watching movies or visiting a park. The few times she did have a date, she always found herself distracted throughout the entire evening by thoughts of Henry: checking her phone to make sure the sitter had not called, her mind wandering during idle conversation over appetizers, wondering if she'd left enough food for him and the babysitter, or, by the time dessert came, if he would finish all of his homework when she wasn't there. Eventually, it was just too much of a mental struggle to go on a date and be polite and focus on and sound appropriately interested in her date and through it all, remain Henry's mother.

It was easier to stay at home.

Then there was that time three years ago, when she'd attended the annual Christmas party for the fashion magazine she was working for. She had started chatting with a slightly eccentric financial manager - someone she'd not crossed paths with prior - over a glass of wine, and found him to be relatively clever, kind, and polite. By the end of the night, they'd exchanged numbers and he called her two days later and asked her out.

Jefferson had been pleasant to date for a few weeks. He seemed respectful of the fact that she was balancing a hectic work schedule with motherhood. He always asked after Henry, was polite and agreeable when something came up and they had to postpone because of him.

For the first time in a long time, with Jefferson, Regina saw the potential to fall for someone again. She was far from in love with Jefferson, but she enjoyed the company, the companionship… and yes, after a while, the sex. After a few years of watching children's movies on Friday nights with Henry and focusing on homework and talking about dinosaurs and trains and cars, it was nice to have some adult conversation - and activities - with Jefferson.

Regina, however, found it difficult to fall in love with Jefferson. In lust, yes… very. He was quite skillful, and she graciously benefited from it, and learned a few things that she had never had a chance to with Daniel, when they had barely been adults.

But in love… no. There was always something missing. He would be distant at times, as though he longed to be someplace else. He didn't love living in New York, and during some of their dates and outings he would grumble about the traffic or the high cost of getting around and dining out. Their life outside of the bedroom grew stale.

Certainly, their nightly escapades prompted her to keep him around for a while. But Regina knew it wasn't going to work with him as she observed him interact with Henry one night, on a rare occasion she had him over for dinner. (She'd never introduced him to Henry as her boyfriend; she simply said he was a friend and coworker. Which he was…)

At that dinner, Jefferson hadn't really known what to say to the kid or how to interact with a seven year old. He was polite and kind to Henry, yes, but Regina sensed a heavy, awkward feeling in the air as he attempted to make polite conversation with her son. It was clear Jefferson would rather avoid Henry all together; he simply didn't know what to do with the kid.

On their nights out, away from her son, Jefferson never asked her about Henry, and his attention sometimes seemed to drift if she mentioned him in the conversation. He simply wasn't interested in a kid. That much was clear.

But Henry was a part of her. Such a huge part of her life. She couldn't comprehend someone not feeling what she felt towards him. Well, she could understand it - but she realized, eventually, that she needed someone who could appreciate not just her, but Henry as well.

Gradually, her dates with Jefferson died out. Regina was the one who finally called it off. They both seemed to be relieved when it was over. For weeks, there had been an unspoken agreement that it simply wasn't going to work.

After Jefferson, Regina returned to her weekly routine of movies on Friday nights with Henry, Saturdays visiting Central Park or one of the many museums in the city, Sundays doing homework and perusing some of their favorite bookstores. Just the two of them, in the city.

..•..

Regina's work kept her extremely occupied that week. She had an interview with the CEO of an architecture firm for a new feature profiling the professional women of Paris, wrote several posts for the blog that were barely submitted in time (but the point was that they did make it in on time), and seemed to finally hit her stride with the copywriters turning in work on time - even though she couldn't visit their offices and annoy them personally in New York.

Regina was glad to run into Emma one day at Starbucks (yes, Paris had Starbucks, as it turned out). Emma was buried knee-deep in a pile of notebooks and textbooks.

"How are the exams going, dear?" Regina asked the blonde, slipping into the chair across from her at the table.

Emma looked up and sighed. "Could be better, could be worse. This class on international criminal law is testing my patience."

Emma paused to take a sip from her large coffee cup and studied her as she put her phone in her pocket.

"So a New Yorker goes to Paris and ends up in Starbucks… how very stereotypically American of you," Emma observed, grinning slightly.

Regina rolled her eyes. "Touché. I adore the coffee in every cafe, fine or otherwise, in this city, but from time to time I feel like something comforting from back home."

She looked down at her Americano. "Actually, I never even liked these that much back home. I don't know why I was craving it."

"Forget it. After all, I'm French, and I'm here. There's a reason these Starbucks cropped up all over the city - some of us actually go to them once in a while."

"So I should be asking you why you deign drink American coffee at this place."

Emma shrugged. "It's a way to get out of my apartment every once in a while, and I like them after the time I spent traveling around the U.S. years ago."

"I won't bother you for long, Emma," said Regina. "But I wanted to ask you if you'd mind watching Henry on Thursday night? I don't think you'll need to do much other than watch him play video games or watch a movie - I just need you to make sure he doesn't stay up too late. Or eat anything too awful. Of course, you can study if you need to. Would you mind terribly?"

Emma perked up. "And this wouldn't happen to be because you're going out with Robin, would it?"

Regina grinned and looked down at her lap. "Maybe."

"Nice. Of course I'll stay with him. Pas de problème, madame."

..•..

Regina and Robin flirted via text for the rest of the week.

Where are you taking me? A hole-in-the-wall, any dress code I should be aware of?

You and your dress codes. No. And you will look beautiful in anything.

For a fraction of a second she was tempted to type and I also look great without anything, but there was no chance she'd ever dare send it.

How far away is it? She wrote instead.

It's in a different part of town, he replied. Broaden your horizons a bit beyond Montmartre.

But he wouldn't tell her where they were going.

Thursday night couldn't come soon enough. By Thursday, Regina had a difficult time concentrating on her work, dwelling on what shoes and jacket she would wear, but she pushed through, editing articles, editing and then submitting her style profile interview, posting content on the website.

And then she picked up Henry from school.

She knew something was wrong with the boy when he emerged from the old school building. His face looked pale, almost grey, and his eyelids were droopy. He was walking slower than usual, without his typical bounce.

"Are you feeling okay?" she asked, concern filling her voice as soon as he reached her where she was standing on the sidewalk.

He shrugged.

She reached out and felt his forehead. It was definitely too hot.

"I think you're sick, Henry. Come on, let's get you out of this drizzly day, and get you home."

He didn't say much as they walked home. She thought of when he was a little boy, and she could scoop him up into her arms. It pained her that she couldn't do the same now, but they didn't live too far at least.

At last, when they got home, she put him to bed right away, bringing him some toast to snack on, a hot cup of decaffeinated tea to sip on (he had started to cough) and cursed herself for not having stocked up on more medication since their arrival in Paris. If he had the flu, some sort of children's medicine for it would be helpful right about now.

With a heavy heart, she texted Robin to cancel.

He replied within a few minutes. Sorry to hear it. Any reason why?

He typed back that Henry had a fever and she needed to stay with him.

And then she didn't get a reply.

At first she was too concerned with doting over Henry to check - or think about - her phone, but after Henry finally fell asleep, she moved back out to the kitchen table and noticed there was still no reply.

As she went about preparing herself something small to eat, she had flashbacks to Jefferson, and the other men whom she'd dated occasionally, and how absolutely uninterested they had been in her son. She had thought that he'd be different, thanks to having a son, but the lack of response suggested otherwise. Maybe he didn't like playing second fiddle to her son any better than the rest of them.

Then, there was a knock at the door.

"Emma, I'm so sorry, I completely forgot to call you or text you - I'm not going out tonight," Regina said when she opened the door.

"Oh - what happened?"

"It's Henry. When I picked him up after school, he had a fever. He's asleep now."

"Are you sure? If he's sleeping, you could still go for a little while, I don't mind."

"That's nice of you, but I wouldn't enjoy myself knowing he was back here and sick. Besides, I already told Robin."

"Oh, all right."

"If you want, stay for a few minutes. I just finished making myself a bit of pasta, and I made plenty if you would like some."

"Sure," said Emma, setting her heavy bag down on the floor and following her into the kitchen while Regina dished up the lemon-garlic arugula pasta.

They sat at the table and ate for a bit, chatting. As they ate, Regina's concerns started to bubble to the surface and she voiced them to Emma.

"After I told him I had to cancel because of Henry, he didn't reply," said Regina.

"I don't think that means anything. Maybe he's busy."

Regina sighed heavily. "Yes, or maybe not. I haven't exactly had the best experiences dating men when I have a son to focus on, too - and of course I always put Henry before my dates, something that doesn't end up being too popular to them."

Emma shrugged. "Men should appreciate that you're a good mother."

Regina snorted. "I don't know if I'm a good mother."

"Come on. This doesn't seem like you. You're always so confident," said Emma.

Regina exhaled and slumped a bit in her chair, nursing her glass of wine in her right hand. "I have to be, for work. It's been a difficult industry to work in - rewarding, yes, but difficult - I have to be like this, otherwise I'll be walked all over. But at home, I don't know what I'm doing. I mean, I moved my kid to Paris, I'm dating a guy I know nothing about, who may or may not love the fact that I have a kid who will inevitably divert my attention from him."

"Listen. I don't know what kinds of guys you were with back in New York, but any guy who thinks you paying attention to your kid is taking away from the attention you could be giving him isn't worth your time," said Emma.

Regina sighed. "I just hope Robin texts me back."

"He will. He's a really good guy, you know. How much has he told you about his past?"

"Not much. Why, what do you know?"

Emma shrugged. "Not a lot, to be honest. He started volunteering at this organization in a really rough part of London. I was there as well - that was when I was traveling, trying to improve my English - it helps teens who have dropped out of school or about to drop out of school, offering them classes taught by professionals on all kinds of things, computer technology, cooking, art, even business administration, basically the kind of stuff they should know to either get some kind of job or apply to go back to school at some point. The organization tries to prevent kids from slipping through the cracks."

Regina shifted uneasily in her chair. "Impressive. What did he teach? Computers?"

Emma nodded. "Yeah. And a few other things. Talked about history. Even taught a bit of archery."

"Archery?"

She nodded. "Yes. He's good at it. You didn't know?"

Regina shook her head.

"So, he was coming in a few nights a week, helping them learn computer software, programming, talking about life. He was very good with them. A lot of the teens looked up to him. It mostly women who volunteer to teach at places like that, you know? But a lot of younger men drop out of school, and so this program was trying to catch some teenage boys and give them a second chance at school, or life, before they slipped through the cracks. So this tough-looking guy, Robin, comes in and teach them some skills, it just helped them think about how they could do more."

"Well. I had no idea he did all that. I mean, he mentioned he worked with some sort of outreach program back in London, but that's… really nice," she said.

Emma nodded. "Yeah. All of the rest of us volunteers loved him, too. He's this guy with his heart in the right place. I think he still stays in touch with some of the teens he helped, some of them went on to technical or trade schools, have jobs now. Good guy."

"Point well taken. He's a good guy," said Regina, now feeling inadequate for entirely different reasons.

She looked down at her designer dress, and designer shoes, and thought about the elegant dress and coat she had planned to wear on her date with him. It all seemed pretty frivolous to her now.

"To be fair, he never told us a lot about his life outside of his volunteer work," said Emma. "So I can't tell you much more about him."

Regina's eyes narrowed. "Is there some reason I should be concerned?"

Emma laughed. "I doubt it. Though he does have this weird - thing - with money. I mean, he has a job now, works for this big company, does computer engineering stuff for them, just like he said. But he's been really dodgy about his past. Never answered any of us when we asked about it, and the whole thing with him staying in your apartment, well, I just had a feeling he had some money issues, which is why he came to me."

"It must not have been cheap going to school to be an engineer," mused Regina.

Emma shrugged. "Well, I really don't know, although schools back in the UK aren't quite as bad as in the U.S."

"If I ever get a chance to go on a date with him, maybe I'll eventually find out more of this mysterious Robin," Regina said, glancing down at the phone for the 100th time that day.

Since when did she become one of those people? Who glanced at her phone every 2 seconds, looking for the right person to call…

"You will go on another date," said Emma in a reassuring voice. "Maybe his phone died and that's why he didn't text you back."

Regina shrugged. "I don't know if we're a good fit. He seems really selfless, and I never have volunteered in my life. My entire career revolves around consumerism, and that doesn't seem to be what he's into. I don't know if we have any common ground."

"You have done well so far."

Regina grinned, the memory of their kiss briefly coming back to her.

"It hasn't been long," she said, forcing herself out of the memory.

"Look," Emma leaned forward, towards Regina, a long lock of blonde hair falling off her shoulders as she did. "I don't have a lot of time to date, not with this law school insanity. I know you haven't had a lot of opportunities, either. So I know how you feel. Here's an opportunity - damn, you're lucky - take it, see where it goes. If it doesn't work, fine, there's always another guy out there for you. But you need to give it a fair try, in case it does work. Either way, you won't regret it."

Regina bit her lip and looked over at the blonde woman. "I suppose you're right."

"He's going to text back. And if he doesn't? Just try messaging him again, you've got nothing to lose except for a really hot date."

..•..

He texted back.

It was early the next morning when Regina noticed that he'd sent her a message sometime during the night. She woke up, too early to rise, but she was awake enough to grab her phone and see if any messages had come in during the night.

So sorry for late reply. Mini technical emergency at work, had to work til 3 am. Hope Henry is feeling better and we can reschedule when you're ready.

Regina let out an exhale, and felt the relief course through her.

When have I become so anxious for a date to work out? She thought, shaking her head at herself, but smiling as she composed a reply.

..•..

Henry stayed home from school on Friday and began to perk up on Saturday. They stayed around the apartment both days, which allowed Regina to get ahead of some work for the next week while Henry watched television.

On Saturday, Emma texted Regina to ask if she'd heard back from him, and Regina filled her in.

I've got a massive paper to write tomorrow, would love to get out of my apartment so if you want me to come over and sit with Henry for a while it would give you a chance to get out with Mystery Man, Emma volunteered.

Really? That would be great.

Within minutes, she arranged to meet Robin on Sunday evening.

..•..

Regina met Robin the next evening outside of her apartment. She'd decided to wear a simple cherry red dress, clasped just below the throat with a single button, the fabric occasionally offering a peek of skin below. The dress was light and pretty for a spring evening. She kept her makeup soft and natural, but her shoes impractical, as usual. She couldn't help it.

Robin beamed when he saw her emerge from the main door of her apartment building.

"Are you ready, my lady, for our date, at long last?"

She smiled. "Of course."

"Right this way."

They went to the metro.

"We're going across the river," explained Robin, as several stations passed. "The Luxemborg Gardens are beautiful, I thought you might like to see them. Then to dinner. There's a friend of mine, he is one of the chefs at a little restaurant there."

"I'm looking forward to this."

"Now, fair warning, this is not a, like, fancy place. it's comfort food, homestyle food, kind of a fusion of French country cooking and - don't laugh - some British comfort food. My friend, after all, is a Brit."

"I'm up for anything," she assured him, enjoying the rare treat of being catered to.

When they finally emerged from the metro a while later, they walked to the Luxembourg Gardens, which were stunning in the spring evening light. Lily ponds surrounded by sculptures, endless statues and pretty topiaries. Flowers burst out from tidily-maintained rows and hedges.

"Look familiar?" Robin pointed out a statue, and Regina smiled.

"The Statue of Liberty."

"A small replica, at least," he said as they walked closer.

Robin also pointed out a stag statue.

"That one is my favorite," he said, looking at it.

"Stunning," said Regina, gazing at the lifelike deer, gazing proudly ahead.

"Indeed," Robin replied, though when she glanced over at him she realized he was not looking at the statue, but rather, at her.

She nervously bit the inside of her cheek.

"Where to next? It is getting late," she said, noting the sun had shifted well below the trees.

"We can head to dinner any time now. Are you hungry yet?"

"Of course."

"Good. The restaurant is nearby."

They walked three blocks, then Robin directed her to a side street and to a squat old building with a heavy wooden door. La flèche d'or, the sign said.

"The golden arrow?" translated Regina.

Robin nodded.

They entered the restaurant, which was anything but a hole in the wall. It was small, and a little rough around the edges, but pleasant and more elegant than Regina had been expecting. The restaurant had a row of warm, square wooden tables and chairs, a creaky and very scuffed wooden floor, a large fireplace on one end of the room (which was lit against the slight chill of the spring evening), and shelves and shelves of wine bottles. Inside smelled of the pleasant smells of fragrant foods mingling with the faint smell of liquor.

"Bonsoir," a hostess greeted them warmly.

Robin said a few words to her in his thickly-accented French, and she laughed and smiled widely and said "Welcome" to Regina in English, then led them to a table at the side of the room.

"My friend, Will, will come out and meet us," explained Robin as Regina sat down.

As they glanced over at the menu du jour, which was scrawled out on a chalkboard, the bartender brought them two champagne glasses filled with a red-tinged bubbly liquid.

"On the house," she said in French.

"Kir?" Regina guessed, looking over at Robin.

Robin nodded and held up the glass, looking her in the eye. "I believe so. Cheers, darling."

"Robin, mate," said a heavily accented English voice behind them.

"Will!" Robin hopped up, warmly greeting the young man who had short brown hair and ears that stuck out just a little too far.

"An' who's this fine lady?" Will turned to Regina.

"Will, meet Regina," Robin said.

"It's a pleasure," he said, looking at her.

She smiled. "Nice to meet you."

"So what'd Robin say to you to convince ya to give the miserable ol' bastard a chance?" Will said to Regina, teasing.

She laughed. "He got me drunk on whiskey, actually," she said, playing along.

"Makes sense. The ladies can only go out with him if they're completely pissed."

"Aw, come on, mate," Robin groaned.

Will laughed. "I'm jokin', of course, this is the nicest son of a bitch you'll ever meet," he said to Regina, looking her directly in the eyes.

"We'll see," she said, teasingly.

"Come on, that's not true either," Robin said to Will, looking a bit embarrassed, glancing over at Regina to gauge her reaction.

"Nah, it's true. He taught me how to use a computer, told me I was no good at programming, so he sent me to culinary school instead," said Will.

"That's not exactly how I phrased it…" muttered Robin.

Will grinned. "Best thing anyone ever told me. Me, I always thought I was worthless, lived on the streets half of my teenage life in London, finally was dragged into this program one day buy someone, don' remember who, an' Robin taught me that I could actually do somethin' productive other than smoke and drink. That place in London, it's where I learned some actual skills, an' a few years later, here I am."

"Will is a very talented chef," said Robin. "Used to make the most delicious sandwiches for us back when we were volunteering, and I told him he had to pursue a career in the culinary arts.

Will nodded, confirming the story.

"And how did you end up in Paris?" Regina asked.

"Heard about a job opening, this place needed a chef who knew 'bout good homestyle English food, which is the only thing I really know about. I crossed the channel, and here I am."

"I'm looking forward to this meal," Regina said politely.

"Oh, I'll start bringing you plenty in just a moment, don' worry. And this one eats a lot -" he playfully poked Robin in the shoulder. "So much, ye'll have to carry 'em home."

"Good thing I wore comfortable shoes, then," replied Regina.

Will left them to their dinner, and the parade of food began almost instantly, delicious appetizers of a creamy soup, crusty bread. Salads with herbs and fruit, roast pork and roast duck, a sort of casserole of vegetables and deep Indian spices. After a while, Regina lost track of everything they were eating (and drinking), enjoying the time she was spending with Robin, deep into conversation about everything from Roland's favorite books and toys to the best place to find affordable wine in Montmartre, to Regina's struggles to come up with a good idea for her column for work and her search for the next Parisian woman to write a style profile on.

As they dwelled over dessert, a divine, dark chocolate mousse served in delicate little ramequins with raspberries and shaved white chocolate on top, they laughed about their adventures with the French language, and Regina told him about a time as a student when she got sorely lost on the train from Paris to Versailles.

As she scraped the last of the chocolate from the little ramequin, her crossed leg bumped into his leg.

"Sorry," she said automatically, pulling it away out of habit.

"You needn't apologize," he said.

"Force of habit," she admitted. "I won't apologize for brushing up against you in the future."

"I'll hold you to that," he said, smirking.

They finally left, hours later, completely full.

"I think you need to carry me home," she said happily as they left the restaurant and stepped into the dark night air.

"Wrong. You said you're the one doing that tonight." He glanced down at her feet. "You lied."

"What?"

"You didn't wear comfortable shoes at all," he teased lightly under his breath. He moved towards her then, almost a dance as he lightly placed his fingertips on both of her arms, dipping his face downwards to meet her lips.

They kissed deeply, then, on the quiet Thursday night streets in that charming neighbourhood in Paris, next to a bench at a little tiny park, empty in the late night, only the orange glow of the street lamp illuminating it and them.

Regina allowed her mind to quiet, to be lost in the feeling of it for a few moments. To forget Henry, or work, or even being appropriately impressed with his friend's (admittedly very good) cooking.

They didn't come up for breath for a while, eventually parting, though Robin with his forearm still resting on her shoulder, absently playing with a strand of her hair, and she with an arm wrapped around his waist.

"It was nice meeting Will. It seems like you've done a lot of nice things for people," she said.

The back of Robin's hand began stroking her neck absentmindedly, causing her to shiver slightly in the night air.

Robin paused mid-stroke and looked away, seemingly nervous all of the sudden.

"I'm not that good," he said flatly. "I just volunteered for a year or so, I met some great people, made a few suggestions is all."

"That's not all."

He shrugged. "I assure you, I am no saint."

She pulled away slightly. Why was he being so modest? He was way ahead of her… she'd never helped someone go from the streets to working in a fine restaurant in Paris.

"You seem to fool some people."

He sighed heavily.

"Please, Regina," he said softly. "Don't be under any illusions about me. I've caused my fair share of…mischief. Trust me."

She studied him for a moment. The mood had shifted between them, a bit of the spark dissipating into the night.

"I have to go," she sighed into his collar, not wanting anything more to change from the happiness they'd shared all evening.

"All right, he whispered, his voice softer again, betraying that he was reluctant to let her go. He soothingly ran his hand up and down the sleeve of her light jacket, while the other one wrapped her closer. He was stalling.

When they finally mustered up courage to part, He hailed her a taxi - a rare splurge, but it was late, and she was tired, and had to get back home to Henry and work the next morning - and held open the door as she stepped inside.

"I'll plan the next date," she said to him, biting her lip and smiling mischievously. "It may not show off how saintly of a person I am, but I assure you, it will be memorable."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Well darling, I'll make sure you make good on that promise. Among others."

The taxi pulled away.