DarkOQWeek 2017Chapter Text
She stands outside the tavern, remembering all too vividly a night similar to this, more years ago than she cares to admit, a lifetime and more. But tonight she won't do what she did that last time. She vows never to let fear dictate her life any longer, not tonight, not ever.
Taking a deep breath, she steps into the tavern, still garbed like a proper Evil Queen would be, the emotional armor of sneering indifference radiating off of her in hot waves. There is no way in Hell or worse that she'll let these ruffians see her vulnerability. All eyes are on her as she walks up to the center table and the man with his back to her.
"Somehow I thought this would be different," she says softly as he turns to face her. "Perhaps it would be if we didn't already know each other."
"Do we though?"
His question is soft, curious as he motions for the barmaid to bring another mug. His eyes -- so pale, like Daniel's, but harder somehow -- follow her movements like the falcon Leopold used to hunt with. At least now she has a fighting chance to turn this potential predator into prey or, better yet, an ally.
She considers his question carefully, barely paying the barmaid any attention as a mug of ale is placed on the table before her. She takes a long pull at the warm, acrid brew and relishes the warmth that trails outward in its wake down her throat. It's an inferior brew compared to the wines she's always been accustomed to, but it suits him, and that's apparently enough for her.
She chuckles softly and licks her lips. "No, I suppose we don't." She barely takes the time to consider her next words before they fall from her lips. "But I wouldn't mind learning. You're not her -- our Robin."
"And you're not…" His words trail off and his eyes go unfocused in that way that denotes being lost in memories. "Well, technically you're not my Regina because I never had one in the first place."
"Would you like one?"
The words are there between them before she even has the opportunity to register them as a thought, let alone consider speaking them. Part of her wants to take them back, regain some modicum of her dignity, but she stays silent and watches him. A variety of emotions flit across those blue eyes of his, many of which she recognizes, some of which she wishes she couldn't.
"I think I would."