Stumbling, Emma reaches out blindly and catches hold of something hard and solid before she's sent sprawling to her knees. Gathering herself and blinking rapidly, she pushes away the obscuring veil of her hair and looks around with naked surprise.
"What the hell, Regina!?"
She snaps, but the hammering of her heart slows promptly as she recognises her surroundings. Looking from the half-empty coffee mug she'd left standing on her kitchen counter a couple of hours earlier to the brunette perched casually on one of the barstools she'd managed to beg off Granny, she frowns. She's planning to reupholster the worn red leather with a sleek black version of the same, but privately wonders if things will ever quieten down enough for good intentions to come to fruition.
"Why'd you do that?"
She asks in open confusion, but the Queen is curious to note that the blonde still seems more or less comfortable with their current situation.
If a little wind-swept.
"I wanted a little privacy, and my current living situation is apt to become... Complicated."
The darker woman shrugs, while inwardly contemplating just how true that statement might be. She's not sure a scenario in which she, Henry, and the pathetic waste of space bearing her likeness all sharing her mansion will end pleasantly.
So, dear, it seems I might just have to stay with you for a little while.
Baring her teeth in a devilish smirk, she takes a couple of steps toward the blonde while dipping her hand surreptitiously inside her cloak.
Thank you, mother...
"What's that?"
She asks suddenly, pointing towards the kitchen window where the Sheriff's non-existent attempts at gardening have left the generous lot outside overgrown and in disarray.
"Huh?"
Emma reacts predictably, glancing towards the yard suspiciously. Swift as a vixen, the Queen closes a small, iron circlet around the younger woman's wrist. It fits her perfectly, just as it does any who wears it.
Who has it forced upon them.
"What are you-!?"
But Emma's confusion trails off into something darker as she recognises the crude bracelet for what it is. After all, she's seen it worn by both the woman stood smirking opposite her, and the brunette's bothersome sister.
"Why would you...?"
Another broken sentence, not that the Queen is surprised. Emma has never struck her as one for eloquence. Still, the look of utter surprise and- even more hilarious- hurt that finds sharp features intrigues her. It's as though Snow's whelp can't comprehend the idea that her mother's adversary might mean her ill will.
Incidentally, dear, it's remarkably delightful that you seem still to believe I'm your toxic Mayor.
Looking the blonde up and down and recalling a long list of peculiar outfits, she supposes she shouldn't be too surprised that Emma is a little slow on the uptake. Evidently, the donning of leather and flair is an action the blonde associates with it being a Saturday, rather than an expression of self-discovery.
"Why, dear? Because I don't want you trying anything funny."
The Queen smiles, and the first flicker of temper alights the Sheriff's eyes as she looks down at the circlet dampening her magic and back up into dark coals.
"Funny like what?"
She demands, before finally showing a hint of the fire the brunette had anticipated she would need to approach with caution when she growls
"And what did you mean when you said you wanted privacy? Privacy for what?"
They are now standing almost nose to nose, and the Queen can't help herself from playing with the younger woman as she relishes the uncertainty clouding ordinarily cool green eyes, for if she is the vixen, the blonde is currently every bit a nervous little rabbit. Closing in, she challenges Emma the same way her more reserved counterpart has done countless times before; her breath tickling pale cheeks as she locks in on her prey. Unlike before, she doesn't stop there, taking another step so that her hips make contact with the Sheriff's own, and she laughs when the blonde cringes back but is unable to step away with her backside pressed against the counter.
"Uh... Regina?"
Emma tries, and the brunette laughs darkly as she appreciates the idiotic woman's flawed attempt to sound calm and collected. Raising her hand, she brushes a few strands of hair from the blonde's face, watching the delicate ripple of her throat as she swallows audibly.
"What, dear?"
She purrs, and she can't help but swallow herself as she hasn't felt this excited in a long time. The stolen cuff had actually been meant for Rumplestiltskin in the event of the little imp hindering her rather than deeming it fit to help her. It had been a fallback. A safety net. A contingency plan. It is by pure chance that she has landed herself in this situation, but her mind is ticking fast with ways she might be able to make this work in her favour. She can think of few better ways to hurt Snow than to threaten the safety of her child. She supposes the winning hand would be to take possession of the hateful woman's infant son, but Emma is a close second.
She also presents a far more appealing game to play in the meantime.
This is going to be fun...
"You've grown up nicely, dear... But then again, you were never supposed to grow up at all."
She muses dangerously.
"... Huh?"
Emma frowns, before finally, the reality of the situation dawns on her, and her lips part in numb shock.
"You!?"
"Me, dear."
The Queen agrees pleasantly, before frowning when the look of fear she'd been anticipating doesn't come. Instead, Emma adopts a look of irritable apprehension, as though simply believing she has been lumbered with a mildly vexing character in some dusty old book.
I killed your mother in front of you! Or so you thought. Remember that? Remember when you told me- the Mayor- what had happened when you and the pirate took a little trip into what could have been? And that pathetic version of myself apologised to you! Sat with you in that hateful spinster's diner sipping coffee and apologised to you for doing something so terrible, even though all was well in the end.
Well, not this time, dear. I am no mildly vexing character, and this is no longer any book.
"So nice to finally meet you properly, Saviour."
She smirks, and when she leans in intimately close once more, a little fear flickers to light in the blonde's eyes after all.
Oh, my dear, you have so much to learn.
Brushing her lips lightly against Emma's, the Queen tastes the lingering cinnamon of her gum.
"Regina, what the hell!"
Emma accuses, her voice breaking as she pulls away.
"What are you doing?"
She demands, and it occurs to her that she might need to call the woman grinning at her- against her- something else, something royal, but she can't bring herself to do so. Instead, she narrows her eyes and waits for an answer, tasting apples.
"Well, my dear, I need to think about that."
The Queen replies honestly, before taking hold of the blonde's arm and leading her swiftly towards the door beneath the stairs. She's ready for a struggle- she knows the younger woman is strong and could easily shake her off, even without her magic- but Emma seems momentarily too stunned to react, and she moves awkwardly but without any attempts at violence. It's only once the Queen pulls open the door that gapes wide like a dark mouth leading towards the house's curious basement that Emma snaps from her stupor and tries to push the brunette away.
Too little too late, and the Queen shoves the blonde into the darkness and slams the door to her fate.
Angry fists beat on the wood as she locks the door with a swift flick of her wrist.
"What the fuck are you doing?! Let me out! What the hell is wrong with you!?"
Emma shouts angrily; the door shuddering in its frame as she gives the bottom a few hard kicks with her boot.
"Shush, dear."
The Queen replies sweetly, before stalking back into the kitchen and taking in her surroundings curiously with her hands on her hips.
What am I doing?
This is something she has yet to fully decide. For now, she walks over to the blonde's fridge and pulls out a bottle of white wine. Helping herself to a glass, she sips contently while looking out of the kitchen window where darkness has come to fall.