Limping up the stairs to Mary Margaret's apartment, Gold comes to a stop in front of the second door to the left and raps his knuckles against painted wood.
"Sheriff..."
He blinks in surprise when Emma cracks open the door, before a cruel smile touches his lips. The blonde regards him cooly, pretty sure she can guess what has caught the peculiar little man's attention. She raises a brow as his dark coals continue to roam over her face and attire; taking in her messy bun from which curls escape chaotically - a moderately sized section of hair seemingly forgotten entirely - framing her bare face and drawing attention to the thick-rimmed glasses that rest on her nose. Her hands are hidden inside the fleece-lined pocket that adorns the front of the oversized navy hoodie she wears, and her legs are for the most part bare beneath what he eventually deduces to be boxer shorts, much to his amusement.
"Gold... A little early to be making house calls, isn't it?"
"Well, I figured that ten o'clock was a suitable time to pop by on a weekday... Alas, I seem to have been mistaken. My deepest apologies that I have caught you quite so unprepared to receive company."
The Sheriff rolls her eyes at his silky, patronising tone and steps aside in a silent bid that he comes in. She pads over to the coffee machine in the kitchen, turning to face Gold with her brow raised in question, before collecting two mugs from the drying rack after he offers her a curt nod.
"I suppose such luxuries are the benefit of, ah, working from home?"
"Not that I can see how it's any of your business, but a pipe burst at the station yesterday afternoon; the floor's flooded. I have my cell set up to take redirected calls, and I was keeping myself perfectly busy before you showed up."
She gestures towards the large dining table where a stack of crumpled paper litters the desk. Gold smirks at her defensive tone and finds himself hungering to goad the blonde just a little further as she pokes her head inside the fridge in search of milk.
"So busy, you haven't even had time to shower it would appear?"
She glares at him irritably - green eyes flashing behind glass - and sets his mug down on the kitchen island with unnecessary force; causing the scalding liquid to slop messily over the rim.
"Damn it."
She continues to scowl - as though accusing her guest of the spillage staining the pitted surface - while fetching some kitchen towel to mop up the mess.
"Thank you, Sheriff."
The pawnbroker ignores her sour mood, glancing curiously down at the blonde's bare legs, just visible from behind the counter, as he notes the ugly grazes colouring her knees.
"Took a fall, did you?"
He points to her injuries with a long-nailed finger when confusion flickers across her face and she glances down, distracted, before shrugging dismissively.
"Henry and I were out in the woods. I scraped my knees."
She growls. Gold offers her a simple nod, deciding not to bother asking her about the thin laceration to her temple.
The blonde suffers from many personality defects, but her merciless strive towards keeping her own business private is one to which he feels he can relate.
And it would just be cruel to shatter her delusion that she hides things well...
"Pity."
"I'll live. What do you want?"
Emma asks, striving to move things along so that she may be left in peace.
"Well, it's a little belated, but I've managed to locate those documents you wanted. I'm simply dropping them by."
He holds out a slim folder he had previously clutched to his side which she takes without so much as a second glance; walking over to the piles of paper strewn across her makeshift desk and placing it carelessly on top.
"I'll look over them when I have a moment."
"No rush, Sheriff... I do hope it's everything you need."
He drains the last of the coffee from his cup, the blonde's eyes widening in surprise at the way her slippery companion swallows the scorching liquid as though unaffected. Placing the mug promptly back on the kitchen island with a dull thunk, he offers Emma a thin-lipped smile and a nod of his head.
"I'll leave you to your work then, Miss Swan. And, if you'll accept some well-meaning advice, I'd keep an eye on those grazes to your knees. Perhaps keep them plastered a little longer. Additionally, I'd recommend a little Arnica for that bruise at your throat."
"My throat?"
"Another injury from your fall in the woods, I'm sure."
Gold suppresses a grin as the blonde opens her mouth in surprise, a light blush finding her cheeks as he feigns ignorance.
Interesting. Now, who could it be that our delightful little ice queen has allowed to thaw her heart?... Or, at least, to suck on her neck... Really, dearie. Perhaps next time don't allow them to brand you so obviously if you remain determined to delude yourself with whatever air of mystery you fathom you possess.
Predictably, the Sheriff counters her surprise with stone-cold defence and sighs irritably; crossing her arms over her sweater and regarding her visitor with ill-hidden contempt.
"Yeah. I guess. I'll be sure to do that."
Smiling pleasantly, Gold takes his leave, dark eyes twinkling as the Sheriff shows him gladly to the door.
"Take care of yourself, Miss Swan."
"Always do."
"For fuck's sake."
The blonde grumbles as she pushes herself up from her reclined position on the sofa where she had been skimming through a mind-numbing complaint sent in by Miss Ginger. She makes her way to the door, briefly entertaining the idea of requesting whoever waits on the other side to bear with her for a moment in an attempt to tidy herself up a little, before promptly disregarding the notion.
I'll wear my pyjamas around my own fucking house if I want to.
"Yes?"
Emma pulls the door open aggressively, causing the brunette to take an involuntary step back before she takes in the Sheriff's attire and her painted lips form an amused sneer.
"Miss Swan... I hope you didn't go to all this effort just for me?"
Regina chuckles as the blonde lets out an audible sigh, slipping easily past Emma who has already moved aside to allow her into the cosy apartment.
"What can I say, I try... I appear to be unusually popular this morning. If I'd known I was going to be in such high demand I would have worn Calvin Klein's."
She fingers the fraying hem of her boxers thoughtfully and Regina offers her a superior sigh before helping herself to a seat at the dining room table.
"I never knew you were in such demand, dear?"
She muses, and Emma scowls at the cruel smirk lingering on the brunette's lips. Still, the Mayor catches the mischievous glint belying the blonde's amusement behind unfamiliar glasses.
Hideous, but strangely endearing... Cute.
Cute?!
She pushes away such thoughts with abrupt force as Emma perches on the counter.
"Yup. Everyone wants a piece. Can you blame them?"
The Sheriff replies sarcastically, and dark eyes flash warningly, but when the blonde pouts her lips in an exaggerated display of provocation they flicker with ill-hidden amusement.
"Given your current-... Are we calling this an outfit?... I somehow doubt that."
"Oh, really?"
The Sheriff raises a brow as she parts her legs atop the high surface of the kitchen counter. Her position allows her to look down on the brunette; green eyes glittering over the top of her glasses in a way that is inexplicably sexy. Regina sniffs, brushing a speck of lint from her skirt, and offers the blonde a bored shrug as though entirely disinterested in the whole situation.
The events of the previous afternoon play across the minds of both women; each of them knowing that neither is innocent of indifference towards the other anymore, yet still clinging on to familiar pretence.
"So what was it you wanted to see me for, Madame Mayor?
Emma asks finally, allowing the title to drip from her lips; sweet and seductive like honey. The brunette allows a small twitch to the corner of her mouth, studying the Sheriff levelly as the younger woman grins down at her impishly.
"You even have to ask, Emma?"
The Mayor smirks as the blonde blinks in surprise at the use of her name, coupled with the blatant innuendo overshadowing the question.
"Well, I-... I was working, but I mean-... We could-..."
Regina rolls her eyes as the Sheriff stumbles gracelessly over her response. She is torn between the enjoyment of goading and griping about the way the younger woman conducts herself - Emma's sometimes teenage mannerisms when faced with her lazy ridicule providing easy bait for further games - and the realisation that, despite her snarky remarks to the contrary, her attention continues to roam with appreciative intrigue over the blonde's bedraggled appearance.
"We could what, Sheriff?"
She asks as she pushes herself up from her seat and makes her way over to where the blonde perches with a slow, seductive sway of her hips. Reaching the kitchen island, she places her hands on the exposed flesh of the Sheriff's thighs and leans forward, her weight supported by toned muscle. She hovers with her lips a mere inch from Emma's; her tailored jacket and fitted skirt a stark contrast to the blonde's bed-ready attire.
"What could we do?"
She repeats quietly, and the Sheriff closes the gap forcefully; slender fingers slipping into chestnut waves as her thumbs brush the smooth skin at the Mayor's temples and her lips crash against the brunette's. Regina smiles into the act, sweeping her hands up the blonde's thighs until they rest at her hips.
"I'm open to suggestions..."
Emma grins mischievously as she leans back to study the brunette. Regina licks her bottom lip before catching the scarlet petal between pretty white teeth as she returns the blonde's gaze. Leaning slowly forward once again, she presses her mouth close to the Sheriff's ear and whispers seductively.
"Is that so, dear?... Then I suggest you strip out of those shapeless shorts and that ridiculous sweater... Strip down to your underwear... Are you even wearing any?-"
Sly fingers creep beneath the elastic of the blonde's boxers teasingly.
"-It would appear not... Naughty girl... Strip down to nothing, then... And then..."
Emma nods impatiently; inwardly beseeching the brunette to continue as she plays her hands distractedly through her hair.
"And then I suggest you get yourself into the damn shower and make yourself decent for the day like the rest of us."
"Oh, shut up..."
Emma hisses irritably as she pulls away with a scowl. Regina shrugs with an arrogant toss of her hair, but she pats the blonde's thigh in a strangely amicable way.
The Sheriff jumps easily from her perch atop the kitchen island while grumbling sourly at the brunette, rolling her eyes for good measure.
"Whatever you say, Your Majesty."
She offers a sarcastically low bow; completely oblivious to the sharp intake of breath her term of address elicits from the brunette. Straightening up to regard the slightly taken-aback Mayor, she offers a burlesque sigh before making her way over to the bathroom and closing the door.
Regina shakes her head in bemusement, reclaiming her seat at the table. She is a woman completely at home in her own skin, and as such finds no real discomfort in being left to her own devices in the living space of another. She throws casual glances around the room, inwardly labelling the various crumbling and unfinished aspects of the interior with distaste.
Dark eyes flicker to the mess of paperwork to her right, and she pauses as she regards a slim, black file perched atop countless sheets of paper. She recognises the file instantly - or rather, she recognises its owner - having received a fair few herself over the years. Curiosity getting the better of her, she shoots a brief glance towards the closed bathroom door before picking it from the desk and peering through the documents inside.
"What...?"
She drops the folder back onto the table; her eyes darkening with murderous thunder as her complexion takes on a new, chalk-like pallor. Lips thinning bloodlessly, she remains where she is, her position rigid, listening to the drone of the shower as her stomach twists into an uneasy knot and her mind threatens to simply break.