Notes: I don't know what to say about the delay except life and writer's block happens and I hope this chapter will tide you over to the next, which hopefully *fingers crossed* will be next Tuesday. I really hope you enjoy it! Thank you so much for all the follows, faves, and reviews!

Emma sighs awake, feeling wetness at the corner of her mouth and a sound croaking in the back of her throat. She was snoring and drooling. An attractive way to wake up for sure, but Killian doesn't seem to be aware of it even though he's pressed up so close that the sound should've awoken him.

With both of them scrunched together on the center of the bed, their legs are impossibly tangled.

Emma starts the waking process by drawing her still sleeping foot out from underneath him. Pins and needles meet the motion, and she groans deliberately. Killian sleeps on, his breathing still steady, his chest rising and falling comfortably. His arm's still pressed up around her, and Emma lifts it up and off her side.

That's what wakes him, when her hand meets his wrist and he jerks up as if she's shocked him.

"It's alright," she says because he's looking at her with wide, almost frightened eyes and she's definitely not the most terrifying sight he could be waking up to. She understands though as she keeps her hand on his wrist where the prosthetic would normally be.

Eventually he sighs, relaxing, and says, "You alright, Swan? Sorry to -" He gently tugs and Emma lets go, allowing him to wave his stumped wrist in deprecation of himself.

"Actually" - He startles slightly at her response, head lifting quizzically - "I have a question."

"About this?"

He wiggles his eyebrows as his gaze roves over the lack of space between him and her. She stares at him, unsurprised at this point by his deflecting response.

"No."

His face falls, brow wrinkling into a more serious expression. "That 'no' sounds foreboding."

"What now?" Emma asks.

It was her question last night, before she allowed herself to be distracted from it by their casual conversation. That brief reprieve was a momentary lapse in judgement, letting him curl up around her last night, but at least it was a comfortable one and, now, in the light of morning filtering in through the high windows, the reprieve is up and it's back to reality.

The reality she isn't so sure about at the moment.

At least Killian gets it because he nods and lifts himself up into a seated position while he replies, "I'm not sure what Mary Margaret has planned for you today. I'm not even sure what she has planned for me today. So, I suppose it'll be a surprise for the both of us."

He grins and offers his hand to her to help her sit up beside him. She takes it, tingles in her palm indicating that she isn't fully awake yet, tingles in her fingertips like electricity and nothing like the sharp pangs of sleep.

She looks away for a second.

(A brief reprieve.)

"But that's not exactly what you're asking. Now? Now we go about as we would had you not been introduced the way you were. The scandal has had its day, now comes the glitz and glamour instead."

"Glitz and glamour?"

Killian's mouth twists up in his own private joke as he says, "The princess, Aurora, is arriving in three days."

Emma wants in on the joke and, frowning slightly, she asks, "Is this something I should worry about?"

"Aurora?" He frowns, too. "Not really except…"

"Except?"

"Her interaction with the world outside of the royal lifestyle has been fairly limited. I'm afraid you'll be a bit of a culture shock to her."

"Are you serious?" Emma says.

He ducks his head, sharing a secret smile with her, and says, "Deathly so."

She shakes her head at his smile, at his good humor. Combing her hair back and out of her face, she looks down at her knees, bent beneath the dark sheets. The warmth of sharing the space with him is starting to wear off. She should probably invest in some pajama pants while here because her shorts just aren't cutting it, and she can't just siphon off his heat. Last night was a - "mistake" would be too strong a word, but "not smart" basically covers all her bases.

Shirking the sheets, she says, "What time is it even?"

"Past decent breakfast most likely, but we can steal away into the kitchens. No one will mind."

"Yes because admitting that you mind when your boss imposes on you is beneficial to keeping your job," Emma says.

It's a little more critical than she means to be, but he doesn't seem to mind. Killian stretches his arms over his head and yawns. Emma watches for a moment before she realizes how it looks - and then she continues to watch because looking away would be admitting that she's remembering how she ran her hands over his chest as he rocked beneath her. It doesn't seem she has to admit it, though, because Killian eyes her with a smirk.

Emma rolls her eyes, and this time she actually does turn away.

A knock draws her eyes to the door and she gets up out of the bed before he can. The carpets are a blessing because it's cold as hell; she'd think they could afford some decent heating, but maybe it's out. Or it's not yet cold enough in their view to turn it on.

Emma really didn't bring that much decent winter clothing with her.

She swings open the door to find Mary Margaret standing there. She gapes at Emma for a moment, and Emma hears Killian move from the bed, too, remarking all too loudly, "Your legs must be cold."

"They are," Emma shoots back. She nods at Mary Margaret and says, "I'm going to need some winter clothes -" Mary Margaret starts but Emma finishes - "Of my own choosing."

She smiles at her, after that, to cut the sharpness of her request. After a beat, Mary Margaret sighs and says, "Sure. We can do that over lunch."

"Lunch?" Emma asks. She turns her head accusingly towards Killian even though the logical part of her knows it's not his fault that she slept so deeply beside him because the stubborn part of her refuses to acknowledge any of the implications of her restful sleep.

"You two slept in rather late," Mary Margaret comments, her tone too even not to make Killian chuckle as he moves about the room. Emma rolls her eyes while Mary Margaret completely ignores him and says, "Which is understandable. Conversations with Sidney can be...taxing."

"Exhausting," Emma agrees.

"But, you'll be happy to know, it went well. I expect this to blow over soon."

"That's what Killian said," Emma reflects.

Mary Margaret nods. "So all we have to worry about for now is preparing you for Aurora's arrival."

"He also mentioned that."

"She's a sweet girl. You'll like her."

Emma is pretty sure her and sweet don't mix, never been called it herself, not that she can remember beyond vague, blurry things that make her rub at her eyes to try to clear the vision - but she doesn't say any of that, just struggles out a smile and says, "I guess I'll just hop in the shower and then we can do...whatever you need me to do."

"You can find your way down to the dining hall by yourself?"

"I don't need GPS for that, do I?"

Killian makes a noise behind her that goes beyond "suspiciously like a laugh" and into straight snickering. Emma smiles slightly, as Mary Margaret looks over her shoulder to glare at Killian. Apparently ignoring him only lasts so long before Mary Margaret ends up stumbling over her words in annoyance.

"No, you - You don't. I'm leaving, and I'll see you in the dining hall. Killian, you can join us."

She says the last part grudgingly, nods at Emma before she turns and stalks off down the hall. Emma closes the door behind her and comments, "You're going to make her hate me."

Killian balks at that, an audible scoffing as he says, "Not a chance." With a grin and wink - an attempted wink at least, but more of a stuttered blink - he says, "She likes me after all."

Emma nods, "You have a point there."

He waves off her comment and says, "You can shower first." He seems to get distracted after that, and Emma notices the phone in his hands, the light blinking at the front reminding her of all the things he isn't telling her.

She stares at that light with a growing grimace, turns away before he can notice.

She meets Mary Margaret at the dining hall, leaving Killian behind. It's an easy path to take, down the stairs and to the right. The left's doors are all open and those little rooms are not fit for dining, and besides she can smell something sweet wafting from the right.

It doesn't catch her in its magic, this grand hall, the scent of food escaping the kitchens. It only makes her stomach growl.

Mary Margaret's waiting by the doors as Emma enters and she immediately leads her down a flight of stairs on the right, following the scent of food.

"I guess we're eating on the go?"

"Yeah, sorry. Do you mind if we shoot by the stables? We have a new horse master and I wanted to welcome him."

Emma slips into the jacket she has slung over her arms; she doesn't mind.

"In fact, that's an excellent idea," she says.

Mary Margaret looks at her in surprise. "Really?"

Mary Margaret is so guileless that Emma almost feels bad for this, but she has too much riding on her ability to pretend. She needs practice and if she uses this new horse master to pretend with, there's no harm in that.

Only if it fails.

Emma falters, just a little, but gathers herself quickly. She isn't good at hoping for the best, what she's good at is turning shit situations into less shit. She can do that with them, she thinks, she just needs this: Mary Margaret's swift nod and even swifter steps leading them through the kitchen. Emma grabs an apple, granny smith, and two of the soft, gooey oatmeal bars cooling on a serving platter on the counter.

A girl, no more than eighteen, maybe nineteen at the most, nearly bumps into Emma as she says, "Mary Margaret, I didn't hear you coming."

"It's okay, Ashley. Emma and I were just going to the stables."

"Emma?"

The girl turns to her and her eyes widen upon first sight. Well, Emma at least doesn't need to worry about remaining anonymous to the staff. Her interview probably did a good job of that one. The idea of them watching her interview makes her queasier than the idea of them seeing her drag Killian into the cab, but she deals, and in between a bite of her oatmeal bar, she says, "Yeah, that's me. Nice to meet you, Ashley."

The girl looks from Emma to Mary Margaret before giving Emma a nervous smile, "Nice to meet you, too." Ashley jerks as a timer goes off and says, "Oh, but I need to…!"

Ashley runs.

Mary Margaret starts to guide Emma away, but Emma steps backwards, grabs a third oatmeal bar because the blueberry one is already mostly gone and strawberry's about to take a hit, might as well go with the raspberry one, too.

"They're good, aren't they?"

Emma nods in lieu of speaking and blasting Mary Margaret in crumbs. As they walk, Emma notes her surroundings with a more careful eye than she did when Mary Margaret was giving her the tour. They're walking past the orchard, more north, she guesses, to a gated pen and stables.

"He must be inside with the horses," Mary Margaret comments as they approach.

Her guess is correct because a moment later, a man exits the stables and Mary Margaret stumbles beside her, an "Oh shit," leaving her mouth that Emma would never have expected of her so soon.

So much for two-days-of-knowing-a-woman impressions.

It seems Emma doesn't have to be good at pretend at all in this situation because Mary Margaret is failing enough for the both of them in her stilted walk and frozen expression.

"You know him," Emma gathers.

"We've met," Mary Margaret says.

Emma is about to offer that they don't have to meet again, only the man looks up from whatever's in his hands and notices them, his mouth going slack-jawed for a second as he stares in their direction. Emma's pretty grateful for his focused gaze not being on her, but it isn't helpful to getting her day rolling and this...pretending thing going, so she pushes Mary Margaret slightly and breaks their held gazes with a wave and a shouted, "Hello, you must be…"

"Charming," Mary Margaret breathes out beside her, just quietly enough that he could only hear the words if he were reading them off her lips instead.

Which he might be, considering how his mouth quirks up in a smile and his eyes follow Mary Margaret's lips.

Emma leaves Mary Margaret behind to gather herself and approaches David, who wipes his hands on the front of his pants before offering his to her. He makes a valiant attempt to look at her, but he seemingly didn't expect to see Mary Margaret as much as she seemingly didn't expect to see him because his eyes are slightly wide and his gaze is searching just past Emma's shoulder where Mary Margaret must be still standing.

Emma shakes David's hand and this draws his full attention.

"You have a strong grip."

"Thank you?" Emma ventures.

David laughs, no doubt at the question in her voice, saying, "That was a compliment, I swear."

"I believe you," Emma assures him.

"I'm glad to hear that one."

He's not exactly subtle when he glances over in Mary Margaret's direction when she finally steps up behind Emma.

"Hello, Mary Margaret," he greets.

"Hello, David."

It's the single most awkward 'Hello' Emma's ever had to endure and she blurts out, "So, horse master, bird master, is this some kind of S&M thing that the Socaean...whoever names these positions...has going on?"

If she were trying to clear the awkwardness from the air (she was), this would've made the worst attempt at it (it does) because Mary Margaret chokes on a cough and David's eyes go wide, his cheeks clenching from obviously trying to hold back laughter.

"I don't think that's what Mary Margaret intended," David says.

Emma turns slightly to catch Mary Margaret's reddened face and says, "You named them, right. Yeah, I guess you didn't intend that."

"I'm going to...change the names of the positions then," Mary Margaret says, adding another layer of awkward when their minds all go to the same thing given David's cough and Mary Margaret's inability to meet anyone's eyes.

"This is getting off to a...start," Emma says. "I'm Emma Swan. Nice to meet you, David, sorry for…" She waves her hand. "Yeah."

David chuckles and says, "It's not the worst start I've ever had."

He looks at Mary Margaret and Emma doesn't miss the significance. She's curious as to the story behind that, but Mary Margaret is eager to shut down that curiosity.

She says, "No doubt. I'm sure you've had much worse." All business, Mary Margaret sharpens, straightens, and stares at David directly when she says, "I'm glad to have you on our team here at the manor. We needed all the help we can get and I trust that you can provide it. The horses need a -"

"I know what the horses need, Mary Margaret," David says, his voice just a touch annoyed.

Mary Margaret blinks. "Right. That's your job. And mine, mine, I need to be getting back to it. Emma, if you'll follow me…"

"Wait!"

All their heads turn to the newcomer. Killian's smile alights as he approaches them in his dark jacket, black leather to match Emma's red. He reaches their sides at a jog, hand outstretched.

"Dave, it's great to have you back."

"Great to be back," David says, shaking Killian's hand.

Mary Margaret taps Emma on the arm and Emma turns quickly enough to catch the stiffness in her expression before she says, "Did you want to -"

Killian cuts her off, whirling Emma back around when he questions, "I don't think I ever asked, love, but have you ever ridden?"

"What? A horse?"

Emma snorts at that.

If she ever even dreamed of riding a horse (she didn't, not really, not for very long), it definitely wasn't something that ever left dreams.

She never even got out to the "country" until she was riding across it in the passenger seat of her little bug. And then the driver's side, and then she'd only drove through the country to get out of Arizona and back to the city.

"That's great. David's an excellent tutor," Killian says. "And -"

"Don't say it," Emma says.

Killian winks - an attempt at it that makes Emma bite back on laughter - and says, "I'm pretty brilliant at it, too."

"I'll go get her ready," David says.

Emma's about to protest but she was wrong about Mary Margaret being guileless because there's a sneakiness to how she leaves Emma to it, to David's helpful hands and Killian's eager smile.

Emma groans at David's back, but he merely turns and says, "You have the look of a natural."

David has a nice smile. Not distracting the way Killian's gleaming one is, but warm and welcoming. Emma would regret making him frown, probably - at least, that's why she opts to stay instead of running off in search of Mary Margaret instead. That and the fact that racing away from Killian's company wouldn't look right. That and -

Killian's already pouting.

"I really don't want to do this," she points out, still.

"I know that you're thinking this a pointless activity," Killian says.

He circles around until his back is to the stables where Emma can hear a horse whinny. A whinnying horse, not exactly a phrase she's ever been able to say applied to her life.

"You're right."

"We have cars," he mimics her voice, poorly. She's not the only one bad at impressions, not the only one who takes humor in it because his smile is fairly wide while he says, "Why deign to learn how to ride this medieval monstrosity?"

"Never would I have called a horse 'a medieval monstrosity,'" Emma says.

He ignores her.

"But your car is still a few days away, and since you were eager about the secret escape routes out of the manor, I figured that you'd consider this as one of your possible escape methods, should you need one."

She's torn between asking whether she will need one, but instead says, "Or I could just use any of the cars you have here."

He cocks an eyebrow. "You know how to hotwire a car?"

"I know how to hotwire my car," Emma says. She smiles. "And I know how to steal keys off an unwitting guard."

Killian 'ah's. "All my guards are witting. Don't let them tell you differently."

"Regina's guards?" Emma asks.

Killian laughs. "Claude got to you, didn't he?"

"His driving did," Emma says. She smiles again, offering, "I would be doing everyone a favor by taking the keys out of his hands."

"You have my blessing," Killian says.

He smiles back at her, and David shouts over to them, just as he's reaching out to touch her - they're not that far apart, Emma realizes, close enough to look quite intimate.

Remembering why she came out here in the first place, Emma leans forward and presses a kiss to his cheek, and says, "Thanks for the blessing," as she pulls back.

He stares at her, expression going unrecognizable by any words Emma's used yet to describe it.

"You're welcome," he says, softly.

"Sorry to interrupt, but Sunshine's ready," David says.

Emma keeps her eyes on Killian as she says, "Not interrupting." Killian nods, and that's when Emma turns to David and starts off towards him, saying, "But if I said I changed my mind?"

"Can't change your mind now, Swan," Killian says, following right at Emma's heels.

David goes back into the stables and slowly leads a horse out. Emma gets the name after that, because she has a yellow coat with darker spots across it - sunspots, even. She stops just short of touching distance while Killian keeps going towards the horse, brushing his hand over her nose. He nods as David hands him the reins and in a move that Emma can only describe as "getting on the horse," he settles himself atop her.

"I think it'll make you more comfortable if you ride with someone else first. Get used to having her beneath you."

"Get used to? I'm doing this more than once?"

Killian rolls his eyes.

"Come a little closer, she won't bite."

Sunshine snorts and Emma sees the huge teeth.

Yeah, right.

Emma steps forward though and carefully reaches out her hand to avoid her teeth. She's going to touch the horse's nose, but it snorts again, backing up slightly with Killian beneath it. He calms her quickly, but Emma steps back.

"Yeah, she sounds like she wants to bite," Emma says.

Killian groans.

"Come on, Swan, stop second-guessing yourself. Climb up and join me," he says with a tired swing of his head.

Emma vacillates again.

"Why don't I just watch you?" Emma suggests.

"Don't you trust me?"

He pouts. He has the goddamn nerve to pout when she can't say anything against that given David watching them quietly in the background.

Still, it isn't lying when Emma says, "I do." The only lie there is that her trusting him translates to her trusting herself atop a horse.

She sighs and reaches out again for Sunshine's nose. The horse lets her this time, no snorting, no baring of teeth, just a gentle nudge forward beneath Emma's hand. Emma risks looking away from her eyes to Killian's as he smiles down at her.

Fine, she'll get on the horse.

He reaches out his hand and Emma lets him help her up behind him. The horse is warm and the saddle is super solid, enough that Emma knows her ass is going to be uncomfortable if they spend too much time like this. But it's fine enough for the moment. It's fine that Sunshine's moving beneath her, just fine.

"Alright, Sunshine, not too fast," Killian murmurs. To Emma he says, "Just put your arms around me, love, and I'll take you on a walk around the grounds."

"I'll see you guys in a bit, then," David says, reminding them of his presence.

Not that Emma forgot. But he seems to think they have, a smile on his face like he can see something shared between them.

Emma smiles back at him and then presses closer to Killian as he starts to push the horse forward, away from the safety of not moving to moving beneath her. It's not the worst feeling, not bad at all, but it's uncomfortable.

She squeezes him a little tighter and he says, "Just a walk."

"Right," she nods, her nose brushing against his back. She inhales the leather, not exactly a smell she enjoys, but it's cloaked in some kind of cologne, a soft smell that Emma can enjoy.

(Has enjoyed.)

"It's working," Killian says.

"What's working?"

"David...he had that look on his face."

"Oh, you mean the 'they're definitely in love,' look," Emma says.

Killian chuckles. "That would be the one."

"Yeah, it's good. It's good that it's working."

"Glad to hear the interview worked as well," Killian says.

Emma nods into his back, but doesn't say anything more. She's starting to drift, the way she did last night when she was too asleep to move away from him, too awake not to notice how he pulled her into his space, too -

"This a good pace?" Killian asks.

"We could…" Emma thinks about it a moment. "We could go faster?"

He straightens a bit, and Emma holds him tighter as he does something with the reins to egg the horse forward at a faster pace. The wind racing against her skin feels good, better than good even. It feels pretty damn great and she pushes against him and he leans forward, the horse going that much faster.

The bump of the horse beneath her is strange, still, but she welcomes it as her thoughts are beat out by the sound of its hooves hitting grass and dirt. She looks about her, realizes they're moving around the apple orchard as she passes a pavilion and dozens upon dozens of trees of almost identical red apples. The green apples they ate yesterday morning must've been bought from somewhere else because there's not a hint of green in the unchanging field.

"Honeycrisp?" Emma asks.

Killian doesn't hear her. Instead he takes them back towards the manor, towards the gardens that he skirts around, edging closer to the gate. Emma understands. Mary Margaret would probably have a field day on his face if he trampled the flowers.

They move ever faster - a 'hiyah' leaving his mouth that Emma thought was reserved for movies - and her head spins a bit. She finds herself laughing as she pulls herself so close to him that she can't see anymore, can only smell the world around them through the leather and the spice of his cologne.

She only really comes back down when they slow. Emma pants against his back, loosening her grip a tad.

"You alright, Swan?" he says, twisting slightly as she draws back up.

"I'm fine...I think."

"Makes you feel alive, doesn't it?"

Emma meets his eyes and says, "Yeah."

He smiles brightly, his smile gleaming and all kinds of distracting, and Emma shakes her head to clear the shine from her eyes. "It's an escape method to consider, anyway."

"Anyway," he echoes.

His smile fades and he turns away from her. Killian looks up into the afternoon sun, and says, "We should be getting back. I think Mary Margaret really did have some things to discuss with me about Aurora's visit. Did you want to join us?"

"Yeah, sounds good," Emma says.

"Does it really?"

He's sincere in his question, so Emma actually gives it thought. Sitting through the conversation about Aurora's visit might give her more information about these people she's supposed to meet, but staying out here could mean her finding out a different kind of information, the kind they're unwilling to speak of, like the unsaid history between Mary Margaret and David.

And -

It made her feel alive, riding behind him. Possible escape method aside, this isn't...bad.

"Or I could stay out here with David and Sunny?" Emma suggests.

Killian sounds likes he's laughing when he says, "Sunny?"

"Sunshine's a little too…"

"Quaint," Killian says as Emma supplies, "Cheesy?"

Killian does laugh at that, and Emma smiles a little, too. After a beat, he starts the horse moving again, and says, "Back round to the stables, then?"

Emma just nods against him, drawing her arms tight around him again. She lets her mind go and just feels so the first thing she notices as they speed into the stables is that she feels…

Confused.

Because Regina's standing where they left her and Killian has to draw to a hurried stop before he tramples her.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" Regina shouts.

"I do apologize. I didn't expect -"

"Never expect much, do you?" Regina snarls at him.

She calm a bit when she sees Emma and says, "Oh."

"What are you doing here?" Emma asks.

Regina startles at that, like she didn't expect Emma to speak. As Killian helps Emma down from the horse, she nods at David, who Emma just notices, is standing stiff and ramrod straight in front of the open stable doors.

"I came to welcome David back into our home," Regina says.

Warm welcome that must've been.

She says 'our' like someone might say 'sour' like the look she gives David in between the look she throws Emma and Killian's way, noting the way both are still breathing a bit heavy from their ride.

"I feel welcome," David says.

Emma knows a lie when she hears it, when she sees it, and when David's mouth sets in a line that could never be mistaken for a smile and it tugs in Emma's gut, "Lie, lie, lie."

"I do, too," Emma says.

She turns to Killian and says, "Well, we were headed back to the manor, weren't we?"

"Yes, Regina, you can join us, if you want," Killian offers. "We're just doing the last of the preparations for Aurora's visit."

"I wouldn't want to impose," Regina says. "And I have other matters to attend to."

Emma brushes down her jacket and rubs at her back, stretching out her muscles. Killian turns to her, something on his tongue, no doubt, but Regina speaks again.

"Thank you for the invitation," she says, like it took her this long to say it. And then, to Emma's surprise, she says, "Perhaps, Emma, we can go riding together."

"We can?"

"I know you haven't had lessons, but, you seem a natural at this. The way you've handled everything else, a horse should be no trouble for you," Regina says.

She smiles.

Emma smiles back.

Regina nods.

"We'll see each other at another time. I'll be away until the inauguration, but I'm sure you'll be in good company. Aurora and Phillip are wonderful people."

With that, she turns and walks away. Emma follows her with her eyes for a moment, the straightness of her back, poised like she's on the stage. If everything with her is meant to be that way, Emma the unwilling participant in her play…

Emma bites back a groan, and instead turns to Killian and asks, "What was that about?"

"I've no idea what you mean."

Emma looks to David instead, seeking answers there, but he disappears into the stables before she can ask. Never mind about staying behind to ride Sunny. Never mind about a lot of things.

Her stomach is ready for food, anyway.

Emma starts her own walk to the manor. She can hear Killian's footsteps retreating from her, no doubt to discuss with David whatever the hell he won't discuss with her, but it's fine. If he wants to tell her nothing, then she's just going to have to find out on her own.

She finds Mary Margaret waiting for her by the kitchen exit and follows in her quickly moving footsteps to a room just a few doors down, a small office that can't really be called that, even. It looks like it might've been a tiny storage room once that someone cleaned up a bit, pushed a desk in, and labelled an office because it makes for the sort of cubicle dungeons that CEOs and royalty, apparently, are so fond of.

Mary Margaret doesn't say much as she leads Emma to the smallest of couches and they take the seat beside each other, knee to knee. Mary Margaret's focus is entirely on the phone in her hand, but she takes a moment to utter out, "Sorry, I'm just replying to this email. I have to -"

Mary Margaret hisses, fingers flying across the screen. There's an air of frustration around her that wasn't there before she ran off, leaving Emma, Killian and David behind. It's the latter that brought it on; it was obvious from the moment Mary Margaret set eyes on him, and that frustration is translating rather nicely into whatever (that Emma is guessing is a strongly worded) email leaving her fingertips.

She'd leave it be, but Emma's a mirror of that frustration at the moment, too. She's just as caught unawares by today as she was by yesterday and the day before and this whole situation and left to find her own way out of the dark as Mary Margaret seems to be by David's appearance.

So, given that and the fact that if Mary Margaret stabs at the screen any harder, it's going to shatter right under her fingertips, Emma deftly plucks it out of her hands.

At Mary Margaret's noise of protest, Emma lays it down on the couch between them, well within reaching distance, and says, "Your phone doesn't deserve the abuse."

Mary Margaret starts, a word on her lips, and then, looking at Emma a bit longer, she sags in her seat.

"Is this about the new horse master?" Emma presses.

"Please don't call him that," Mary Margaret says with a groan. "I don't know what I was thinking."

About him or the naming is the question that Mary Margaret's search of the heavens with her eyes and mouthed "S&M thing," answers.

Emma smiles and agrees, "Yeah, we're renaming that, right." Addressing the question Mary Margaret left unanswered, Emma starts, "Whatever history is there between you two…"

"Should stay in the past," Mary Margaret fills in quickly.

Defensively.

Emma knows a thing or two about fighting to keep the past out of her present, knows that bite to Mary Margaret's words.

Still she isn't up for offering her sympathy at the moment, so, ignoring Mary Margaret's words, she finishes, "...isn't my business. Unless it needs to be."

Mary Margaret's eyes widen slightly and she shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

"Oh."

Emma shrugs. "I just don't want to be caught unaware. Regina came after you left. I think she said something to him."

Shaking her head, Mary Margaret says, "She did. Of course she did." Mary Margaret sighs. "David and I used to date."

Emma nods. That much was obvious, which Mary Margaret notes, a sheepish shrug lifting her shoulders, "King Henry started to get sick around that time. I think...Regina resented me for being happy when she was so unhappy. She loved her father."

It doesn't strike her as a lie, but Mary Margaret's expression tells more than her words do, that there are things being left unsaid. She supposes that it could just be whatever was between her and David, but it feels like something more, and Emma allows herself a moment of frustration. All these half-truths are playing hell on her stomach.

"But things fell apart between us, and I think now she's just gloating. Though I don't know why - how he could just show up without me knowing - who would -"

Mary Margaret makes a noise of frustration.

"I think you do know the 'who, how, and whys,'" Emma says. "It's the 'What now?' that's giving you trouble."

Mary Margaret doesn't so much as sag as she relaxes, giving Emma an understanding smile. "You know that feeling, right. I...didn't forget." Mary Margaret laughs. "Sorry. We were supposed to be talking about that, weren't we? The 'what now'? Well, now we are going to go shopping."

"You mean, you don't have clothes already cherry picked out for me for me to choose from? What was that dress yesterday then?"

Mary Margaret shakes her head. "That was a miraculous fluke. The tailor that I use had a couple of dresses in your size already, I just chose one and had her take it in a little bit, didn't take her long at all."

Emma lifts a brow in surprise and Mary Margaret pulls a face, "I think Killian's been giving you the wrong impression. I don't micro manage the royal lifestyle as he would say" - She looks at Emma, instantly recognizing her impression - "As he's said, even. You can pick out your own clothes. I just thought it might be nice for us to do it together."

Mary Margaret offers her a smile.

"Together" doesn't sound so bad. Sounds less like being in the dark, and more like a way into the light - even if that light is worse than being in the dark. As bright and harsh as the spotlight has been on her for the past few days, she knows it could be worse. Being in the light, knowing whatever the hell is truly going on between all of these people could be worse. Still, she'd rather not be blindsided.

Emma replies with a smile of her own, and says, "Why not?"