"Unhand me!" Emma released her, taking a step back at the tone. "Watch where you're going next time."
Emma raised an eyebrow at the brunette woman before her who was huffing and shaking off imaginary lint from her well tailored suit. "I didn't hit you," Emma pointed out.
She stopped her roving hands and glared up at Emma. "You could have."
"I doubt that."
The brunette rolled her eyes. "Unless you possess eyes at the back of your head, then I suggest you do what any civilized human does and walk properly."
With a huff the lady turned from Emma to walk the length of the counter and speak to whom Emma had discovered was Ruby's grandmother. Emma refrained from going over there and giving that lady a piece of her mind. She had much more important people to see. With her own indignant eye roll, Emma pushed open the door and marched back the way she had come.
It wasn't a long walk back to the clock tower where the bug was parked, but it was long enough to get Emma's nerves jumbled into a twist and for the butterflies in her stomach to flutter so rapidly she wondered if they were on something.
She dealt with people all the time. She could make friends if she absolutely had to. It wasn't a foreign concept. Just one she rarely personally engaged in. The brief thought that Regina wouldn't like her in real life came to the forefront of her brain not for the first time. Oh god, Emma suddenly remembered. She hates surprises. What if Regina hated her for springing up this visit? They joked about a meeting multiple times but neither ever confirmed plans. What if she's not even in town? She's a mayor, after all, she's probably doing mayorly things. What if Regina stopped writing to her because Emma listened to August who was famous for his impulses? Dammit.
Emma should write. Yeah. That was a good plan. She'd write to say if they'd like to meet up and that would settle that.
The war in her head was raging on even as she approached the clock tower. She didn't bother to cross the street when she saw it, her feet rooted to the spot on the sidewalk as she stared in disbelief. Her car had a boot on it.
"What the hell?" She questioned with outstretched arms and jogged the width of the street to inspect her bug. Against her better judgment, she yanked on the boot, unsurprised to find it firmly on. She groaned and cursed, looking for any street signs that proclaimed she couldn't park there, but finding none, she kicked at her car's tire in frustration before heading into her car and grabbing her rucksack, trudging angrily back to the diner.
This time her thoughts weren't filled on the anxiety of meeting Regina. Now it was the fact that the only big thing she ever possessed was locked up like some wild animal for no reason at all. What the hell was up with that? A Mercedes sped off just as she turned onto the diner patio and re-entered the restaurant.
"I knew you liked the burgers, but I didn't realize you liked them that much," Ruby teased when she noticed Emma's entry as she cleared a nearby table.
"My car got booted."
The waitress laughed out loud once and righted herself, bringing the tub of dirty dishes with her and around the counter as Emma followed. "That's hilarious."
"How?" Emma nearly screeched. "Does that usually happen here?"
"Only when you piss off that brunette you crashed into."
Emma turned to look at the spot where she had nearly collided with said brunette. "What stick is up her ass?"
Ruby furrowed her brow confused. "What?"
"So she just puts boots on people's cars," Emma spoke aloud.
Ruby shook her head to clear it. "What are you talking about? That's-"
The blonde shook her head, already turning to exit the diner. "I know someone who can help me out. Thanks, Ruby."
Ruby continued to stare on after Emma, thoroughly baffled by the turn of events. Granny sidled up next to her drying a mug with a dish rag. "She doesn't know that was Regina?"
The waitress shook her head, an intrigued smirk playing on her lips. "Nope. But she's going to."
When Regina had mentioned she lived in a small town, Emma didn't realize how true that statement was. Used to growing up from city to city, Emma found the fact that she was able to walk all the way to Mifflin Street from the diner in under twenty minutes to be quite the feat. It would have been less than a five minute drive if her car hadn't been booted, which still pissed Emma off the more she thought about it, but it gave her the time to take in the town on her walk to Regina's.
It was cool for the early April weather. It must have rained the day before since the air was damp yet muggy. Brighton Street seemed to be the beginning of Storybrooke's suburbs which ranged from refurbished firehouses turned lofts to dainty little bungalows. Nearly every house on that street was different. The apartment loft's front yard housed a large tree where a petite brunette was standing on a stepping ladder and placing a bird feeder on the aged tree's limbs. The woman in the yard gave Emma a wave, surprising the blonde at such friendly hospitality before waving back.
Other than her car incident, she was liking Storybrooke. It was a town with old roots and old families, white picket fences and tire swings, where everyone knew everyone's business but the community always came together when it counted. It was a town Emma wanted to live in as a kid, made fun of as a teenager, and now that she was walking through it as a young adult, Emma could see its value once again.
By the time she turned onto Mifflin, the white mansion on the corner immediately caught her attention. She didn't know how, but she had an inkling that it was Regina's house. She was the mayor after all. Of course she would be given the best house in town. A lone car drove down the street, and Emma almost stopped it, briefly believing it was Regina inside the vehicle, but the wisps of pale blonde hair made Emma realize her mistake and her anxiety. The nerves of finally meeting the woman resurfaced, battling with her frustration about her car. Regina could help her take care of that. Hopefully.
The long expanse of walkway leading from the sidewalk to Regina's front porch seemed like the longest stretch of concrete Emma had ever seen. And she had walked twenty miles in the blazing heat not weeks ago. Adjusting her sack around her shoulders, Emma took a steadying breath. Treat it like a mission, she told herself. Operation Pen Pal.
She took a step forward, soft thuds soundings from her combat boots as she walked up the precisely poured pavement. Faster than anticipated, Emma arrived at the door, staring up at the brass 108 screwed beside Regina's door panel.
She knocked three times.
The twenty-seven second wait had Emma holding her breath before she heard footsteps on the other side of the door, heard the lock click, and watched as the door parted open.
Emma's mouth slacked open when she saw the brunette she had run into at the diner, perfectly plucked eyebrows raised in confusion as she took in Emma on her porch. Emma's mind could only process one thing. Oh shit.
"Oh," Regina drawled. "You again."
Emma could only open and close her mouth as she stared at Regina dumbfounded.
"I suppose you have learned to use your eyes to walk, though I can't imagine why you chose to make your way to my property." Regina crossed her arms over her chest, making herself large in front of the open space of her door. When Emma didn't respond, Regina cocked her head to the side and stared expectantly. "Can I help you?"
The million thoughts running through her head and the numerous times she had pictured meeting her correspondent in no way prepared her for the real deal. But as was life, Emma adapted and blurted out the first thing that came to her mouth. "You booted my car."