The blonde frowns as her somewhat fitful dreaming is interrupted by the soft slam of a door. She tries to place the sound in her mind; not recognising the metallic quality of the noise for the usual soft thumps heard coming from downstairs at Mary Margaret's. Opening a sleep-blurred eye, she takes in her surroundings with drowsy bewilderment until the previous evening comes back to her in a rapid blur of emotion.
Well, it's about fucking time...
But the light skip of the oncoming footsteps makes them impossible to be those belonging to the Mayor; a stiletto beat so steady the darker woman surely has an internal metronome nothing like these quick little taps. She racks her brain as to who else might possibly have any business coming to the station to pay her a visit and comes to one, horrifically obvious answer.
"Henry..."
Her mouth opens in shock as she feels her stomach flip nauseatingly. With the steps rapidly approaching, she does the only thing she can think of; she hides. Pulling the threadbare blanket up over her head, she holds her breath - as though this is the key to eliminating one's physical presence - and waits.
"Hey, Emma, I-... Emma?"
She pulls the corner of the blanket slowly away from her eyes and peeks out as a familiar face regards her quizzically through the bars.
"Oh... Hey, Ruby."
"Umm..."
The brunette offers her a curious smile before turning around and taking in the rest of her surroundings. She deduces that they're alone - odd, as the cell door is clearly locked - and halts her observation when her gaze drops to the incriminating evidence that is one of the Sheriff's muddy boots lying beside the desk. She studies this item quizzically, before spotting a swatch of denim hidden behind the table that can belong to nothing else but the blonde's jeans. She raises an eyebrow and turns her attention back to the blushing Sheriff with a smirk.
"Fun night?"
"Debatable."
Emma's cheeks glow positively scarlet as she attempts to sit up and simultaneously wrap the blanket around herself. Her heart is still beating much too fast after its scare of being found in her current state by her son, but she can feel it gradually beginning to regain at least some sort of regular rhythm. She drops her eyes from the waitress's gaze, feeling excruciatingly uncomfortable. Still, she doesn't know the younger woman particularly well, but she's on some level aware that the brunette is possibly favourable company if such a thing exists in this situation.
"So?... Who is he?"
White teeth flash at her in a wolfish grin and the blonde finds herself taken aback by Ruby's brazenness. She glares up at the waitress accordingly, causing the brunette to smile apologetically and lower her eyes. Emma sighs and gets up to walk over to the cell door; wincing slightly at the ache in her thighs while pulling the scratchy throw around her like a robe.
"Can we not?... My keys are on the desk there, do you think you could-..."
Ruby glances over to where the Sheriff points and nods amiably, walking over to the messy desk and snatching up the silver set of keys lying amongst the piles of paperwork. She makes her way back and selects the smallest one; wrestling it into the lock before letting the door swing open. Emma hurries ungracefully past her and snatches her clothes up off the floor; bundling them in her arms and making her way quickly for the door.
Ten hours is a hell of a long time without a bathroom break.
The Sheriff wrinkles her nose as she studies herself in the bathroom mirror. Her hair falls over her face in a cornsilk nightmare while her eyes peer back at her from darkened sockets. She can make out a livid bite mark colouring the pale skin of her throat, and upon letting the blanket she hides beneath fall to the floor, she discovers several more.
"Bitch..."
She inspects the damage caused by the Mayor and comes across a series of bruises dappling her right thigh. She spreads her fingers and mimics their shape, finding her hand to fit the brunette's grip mark perfectly. Sighing, she pulls on her chill-dampened jeans and buttons them up fiercely. She pulls on her tank top and shucks on her jacket before splashing a generous helping of icy water onto her face and rinsing a scooped handful of it around her mouth. Regarding the finished product, she sighs and pads defeatedly back to her office.
Ruby perches in the visitor's chair, looking around the room curiously. She glances up shyly as the Sheriff reenters, and watches with growing interest as the blonde lowers herself somewhat gingerly into the seat opposite her. Green eyes regard her with a pitiful attempt at nonchalance and she offers Emma her warmest smile in return.
She is no stranger to the awkwardness of morning afters.
Never had the Sheriff pegged for jail kink, though... Although, I guess if that news article Sydney wrote was true and she picked up a liking for it, then maybe I could believe it... Either way... Who knew?.. The little minx...
"So, umm... How can I help you, Ruby?"
Emma asks, and the waitress swiftly pulls herself from her pensive reverie and grins guiltily as the blonde pulls her hair around to cover the purple graze colouring her throat where she hadn't realised she'd been staring.
"Mary Margaret called and asked me to come and check on you. She said she looked in on you before she left as she didn't hear you come home last night, and got worried when you weren't there. She had to get to class, or she'd have come herself. Your phone's off, so she called to ask if I'd mind popping over to see if you were okay... Three times."
Emma groans inwardly and pulls her cell from the pocket of her jeans. She presses several of the buttons defiantly, but the battery is well and truly dead. She sighs and supposes she's oddly grateful that the schoolteacher hadn't been the one to find her in her sorry state; something about the thought of Mary Margaret knowing about her less-than-innocent escapade making her insides crawl.
"Damn. Well, I suppose it's a good thing for me you let her pester you into checking!"
Emma laughs awkwardly, and Ruby grins companionably; glad to hear the Sheriff make a touching reference to the situation so that she knows where they stand.
"It's no problem, it's always nice to get an excuse to get out of the diner for a little while. I told her you'd probably just fallen asleep at your desk, what with all the work the storm must have created."
She sweeps a hand towards the papers that litter the desk between them to emphasise her point. Emma smiles back shyly before fanning her fingers out on the tabletop, appearing suddenly engrossed in them as she avoids eye contact.
"Maybe, uh-... You could still tell her that?"
The blonde looks up, startled, as a red-nailed hand folds warmly over her own; still not quite accustomed to the waitress's tactile tendencies. The brunette offers her a winning flash of her teeth and uses her free hand to mime zipping her lips shut.
"Your secret's safe with me, Sheriff."
She promises, and Emma finally breaks into a more genuine smile which the younger woman returns with another of her own, offering the blonde a nod of farewell before getting up to leave. When she reaches the door she halts suddenly and presses a palm to her forehead.
"Oh, damn! I was going to bring you coffee, and I completely forgot!"
"I think I may owe you enough gratitude to overlook it, Ruby, even with the onset of caffeine withdrawal."
The Sheriff widens her eyes seriously as she confides the last part and Ruby giggles pleasantly and promises to stop by in the afternoon with lunch and an extra-large cup of mocha.
"Later, Emma"
"See you... Oh, and Ruby?... Thanks for-...You know..."
The Sheriff casts her gaze pointedly over towards the recently vacated cell and the brunette shrugs her shoulders; pulling her impossibly tight midi-top even higher.
"It's no big deal... Now try not to fall asleep at your desk again!"
She throws the blonde a wink and offers a small wave of her fingers as she disappears through the door. Emma briefly ponders just how anybody can be so overtly chirpy and harmlessly flirtatious at what must surely still be relatively early on in the morning and decides she will simply accept the fact.
Gratefully.
She also makes a mental note to leave a handsomely generous tip the next time she stops by Granny's for hot chocolate.
Emma balls up the grease-blotted wrapper from her finished toasted cheese - delivered by Ruby a short while ago, as promised - and throws it into the wastepaper basket in the corner with expert precision. She gives a small tip of an imaginary hat to no one in particular in response to this feat of exquisite athleticism, before returning to the property damage report in front of her.
She sighs theatrically when the phone rings, hoping it will be Mary Margaret simply calling to chat - and possibly to sneakily check that she's alive and breathing for herself - but knows it's more likely to be Miss Ginger chasing her up on what she plans to do about the damage to her kitchen window.
Again.
"Sheriff's station, Swan speaking?"
She waits impatiently as the line remains silent before a telling click lets her know the call has been disconnected.
"Well, fuck you too, then."
The Mayor places the phone delicately back in its cradle and returns to the floury dough she has been kneading ruthlessly with what can now, finally, be called her full attention.
She refuses to believe that her first two attempts at baking this morning ending in disaster - despite the recipes being almost second nature - while the third now finally seems to be taking shape is anything but pure coincidence.
Her gaze falls irritably on her coat and bag which sit on the table as though in preparation to go somewhere. As though she was perhaps thinking of making her way down to the station to make sure the blonde had found her way out of the jail cell.
True, she is mildly curious about how Emma has managed to pull this off.
True, she supposes she had been mulling over who would save the Saviour.
She had been curious, yes. But concerned?
No, not concerned. Surely not.