Regina makes her way up the path leading to the Sheriff's station. The bag in her hand contains Emma's dress and jacket, laundered and neatly folded. Her excuse for being here is to bring back the items lent to her.
She tells herself that in no way is she simply making a social visit.
Her inward battle is rendered unnecessary when, upon reaching the end of the corridor leading to the blonde's office, it becomes apparent the younger woman has company. Listening intently from her position hidden just beyond the threshold, she recognises the second voice in the room to belong to Mary Margaret.
She rolls her eyes as the general theme of their conversation grows clear; the schoolteacher is distraught over the current train wreck that is the relationship between herself and David Nolan, whilst the blonde offers a kind - yet somewhat disinterested - word every now and then to break up insipid rambling.
Deciding that Mary Margaret's hopeless whining can wait, Regina stalks smartly into the office, standing authoritatively in the doorway and returning Emma's surprised frown with her best lady of the public smile.
"Madame Mayor?"
"Sheriff, you may want this."
She holds up the bag of Emma's clothes, ignoring the inquisitive glance procured from Mary Margaret, and places it by the door.
"Uh, thanks...?"
"Pleasure. Oh, and Miss Swan, I have a couple of matters which need to be discussed. If you could come by my office in a short while?"
"Can't, sorry. I have plans for lunch... I can come by after?"
Emma tacks on uneasily as the Mayor's expression threatens thunder at this rebuttal.
"Miss Swan, when you decided you fancied yourself the position of Sheriff, did you believe you would merely be playing dress-up? Or did you perhaps imagine that a small amount of actual work would be required? Whatever your lunch plans are; cancel them. Twelve o'clock. My office."
With that, the brunette turns swiftly to take her leave. As she starts down the hallway she overhears the indignant cry of disbelief uttered by the normally mild-mannered schoolteacher and scowls.
"That was so rude! Why can't that awful woman ever just be civil?!"
Regina waits for the blonde's resentful words of agreement, but the Sheriff merely mutters quietly
"It's fine, I'll just call Ruby and rearrange. Forget it."
Why does the irksome woman even need to have lunch with that promiscuous little harlot? By the sounds of things, they've been seeing more than enough of each other already...
As she gets back into her car, Regina sighs and lets her anger abate. She isn't even entirely sure what spurned it on in the first place. A small voice at the back of her mind suggests it may have something to do with the fact that she'd come breezing into the station in the hopes - really? hopes? - of visiting the blonde; an act which, while performed on an almost daily basis, has never been something she has looked forward to before. She hadn't wanted to admit, even to herself, that she had been seeking Emma out for companionship, and so finding herself standing awkwardly in the doorway when she is usually - hell, is always - the one with the upper hand, had just... Well...
She sighs, striving to pull herself from her dangerous self-analysis and perfecting her lipstick in the rear-view mirror before cruising back to her office.
Could that really have been considered rude? I just want the woman to do her damn job.
Letting herself into her office, she picks up an apple from the large bowl on the table and weighs it thoughtfully in her hand. She catches sight of her reflection in one of the mirrors that line the hearth and scowls when she glimpses the unease written across her face. She's angry with herself for allowing a simple ten-second altercation to affect her in such a way. She's angry with Emma for making her ponder over something which she would previously never have given a second thought.
"Why... Would you have been jealous?"
The blonde's impish challenge up in her bedroom, and Regina curls her lip as she strives to brush this ludicrous insinuation aside.
Is it so ludicrous?
Perhaps not.
Jealous of Ruby. Jealous of Doctor Whale. Jealous of Henry. Jealous of even goddamned Mary Margaret whom the blonde allows in with no hesitation at all.
So what?! Your interest lies in fucking her, not befriending her.
"Stop it!"
Regina glares at herself in the mirror, refusing to allow herself to wrestle with such idiotic thoughts for another second. She is the Mayor. The irritating young woman, with her leather jacket and bad attitude, is the Sheriff, and as such, is in the position to be expected to do what the Mayor damn well wishes of her.
Professionally, of course.
Smirking at the images conjured in contrast to this last thought, Regina takes a seat behind her desk; pulling a small knife from the top drawer and skinning the peel from her Honeycrisp apple in neat, concentric circles. She glances at the clock that hangs on the wall above her before returning to her task.
Eleven forty-five.
Emma shoves her hands moodily into the pockets of her jeans, stepping from her bug - the engine's warning light coming on halfway through her short journey being the cherry on top of this already shitty day - before making her way to the Mayor's office. She knocks hesitantly on the door and half hopes to be offered no reply.
No such luck.
"Yes?"
Pushing the heavy oak open, Emma lets herself in, waiting awkwardly in the doorway as she holds the brunette's dark gaze.
"You wanted to see me?"
"Did you get your things okay, Miss Swan?"
"Yes. They're in my car... What do you want?"
"Come. Sit down, dear."
She does as she's told, walking stiffly over to the grand desk and taking a seat opposite the Mayor. She looks around for a hint as to what this might be about, but is surprised to find that no papers lie atop the darker woman's desk. Raising a brow, she regards Regina warily.
"I'm sorry I'm forcing you to skip your lunch date, Sheriff..."
The brunette purrs finally.
"No, you're not."
Emma leans back in her chair, arms folded across her chest. To her surprise, Regina lets out a low chuckle, nodding her head as though she finds this retort to be not just amusing but very much true. A silence falls between them in the wake of this small show of mirth and they sit facing each other - the blonde with a confused glower, the brunette with a small smirk - with the tension quickly rising.
"So? Why am I here? Or did you just not want me going about my day without my dose of goading?"
Emma demands, and Regina's smirk widens into an oddly charming smile, but she remains - for the moment - silent. Steeping her fingers beneath her chin, she studies the increasingly frustrated Sheriff thoughtfully until she gauges the latter is a moment away from snapping.
"Miss Swan, I am a woman who likes the finer things in life."
"No shit."
The blonde scoffs, and the Mayor purses her lips but continues as though the Sheriff's comment has gone unheard, gesturing at the grandeur of the room with a graceful sweep of her arm.
"I like to surround myself with expensive things. Nice things. Pretty things. I find it gives me great pleasure... Do you know what I don't like, though? What I truly detest?"
Me?
Emma keeps her mouth shut; interested to see where this obscure little monologue might be going as she deduces the Mayor's question to be rhetorical.
"What I don't like, Miss Swan, is sharing those things with others. Do you understand me so far?"
"Uh, I guess?"
"Because, you see, when one finds themselves in the possession of something really, truly... Pretty... The thought of anyone else playing with it with their dirty, sticky fingers... Well... It just doesn't do, dear."
Regina raises an eyebrow at the blonde, conveying she wishes to know whether her message has been received. Emma seems, for the moment, at a loss for words, which the Mayor takes advantage of as she pushes herself up from her chair and stalks dominantly around the table to stand beside her. Playing her hand gently through the blonde's thick curls, the darker woman leans down and places a hard kiss on confused-parted lips, before stepping her leg over the Sheriff's thighs and straddling her lap possessively.
Emma struggles to comprehend exactly what seems to be happening - to take in the meaning of the Mayor's words - as the brunette brushes full lips passionately against her own.
"Find yourself in possession of something?"
She frowns as Regina begins undoing the buttons to the denim shirt she wears; head reeling with the delectable scent of the Mayor's perfume, juxtaposed with the words uttered from scarlet lips suggesting the darker woman feels some sort of ownership.
"Regina, you know you can't-... You don't possess me... Don't own me..."
She reasons, and the brunette pulls roughly at her hair, eliciting a groan and biting playfully at the pale expanse of her throat.
"Don't I?"
"No..."
Emma replies quietly, and Regina grins into flushed flesh as the blonde's lips say no, but her rapid breathing suggests otherwise, and she pulls the Sheriff's mouth greedily back to her own as she smooths unruly curls into submission.
"I don't need to own something to despise the idea of others playing with it..."
"Are you... Are you jealous?"
None of the cocky sarcasm this time, just clouded confusion in green eyes as the Sheriff pulls back to search the brunette's face with something close to bewilderment. Regina studies the younger woman's flushed cheeks, parted lips and wide eyes with a smirk.
"... What if I am?"
She asks, and Emma frowns; her expression strangely child-like in her confusion, and Regina represses the urge to chuckle.
"Well... I-... I don't really know-"
"-Shh..."
Warm lips brush against hers again and the blonde struggles to concentrate. Somewhere at the back of her mind, her logic argues that she should put a stop to this. Think about this. That this is just as likely to be a form of manipulation as it is the truth. She reprimands that pensive part with the fact that it doesn't really matter.
At the end of the day, there's no way this won't end up with her getting screwed.
Figuratively.
Literally.
"Regina, I-"
"-Go get your dress out of the car and come back here. Now."