Regina kneels at the far end of the sofa; sharp heels digging gently into the soft round of her backside. Although several of her words twist harshly towards her companion, most of what she has to say could be considered 'normal' conversation- not quite 'friendly', perhaps- but getting there. The glass she holds delicately between slim fingers wavers as she becomes slightly more animated; the liquid within tipping perilously high up crystal sides, but never spilling.

Emma slouches with the armrest digging softly into her back, but pays this little mind. At some point, she has kicked the quilt down her body so that it now just covers her feet, and she sits with her knees up between them, facing Regina. She pours some of the dwindling amber liquid from the carafe into her glass, before reaching out to place the decanter back on the table. It's an awkward stretch from her current position, and she falls into the last few inches; stomach tensing painfully to try and control the movement and avoid smashing the large glass jug onto the table.

"Careful, dear, perhaps that should be your last..."

Regina points at the brimming glass in the blonde's hand and Emma scowls at her.

"I'm not drunk."

"Of course not."

"I just underestimated the distance."

"Or rather, overestimated your abilities; a trend I have long since associated with yourself."

"Oh please, you couldn't handle some of my abilities!"

Ok, so maybe she's a little drunk...

Not surprising, as for each glass the Mayor sips at daintily, the Sheriff finds herself working through twice the amount.

Well, if the damn woman would shut up for a second, perhaps we'd be more evenly matched!

True, but she says nothing on the matter. Instead, she allows Regina's pleasantly warm voice to continue to wash over her; something about Archie and his credentials and what she makes of sparks between him and the promiscuous little tramp at the Diner. Emma opens her mouth to object to such words being used against Ruby, but then decides against it. She hasn't really been paying attention, and the last thing she needs is for the Mayor to call her up on it. Instead, she gives a small nod- indicating that the brunette should go on- and idly pokes out her tongue to lap childishly at the cider in her glass. This earns her a disapproving frown, which in turn has her cheerfully repeating the act; green eyes comically focused on the drink in front of her, almost crossed. Regina loses her train of thought and her story comes to a halt.

"Stop that!"

"Stop what?"

Wide doe-eyes convey complete innocence. Regina merely glares at her but doesn't elaborate, so Emma feigns ignorance. Eyes intently captivating the Mayor's own, she slowly slips her tongue back out and delicately touches the tip to the amber liquid; never once breaking eye-contact.

The brunette's cheeks flare an angry scarlet.

"For the love of God, Miss Swan; put your tongue away before I chop it off!"

She shoots a pointed glance at the scissors gleaming in the corner, and Emma snaps her tongue swiftly up behind sharp teeth which grin at the Mayor sharkishly.

Gosh, but she has pretty teeth.

Emma eventually stops grinning quite so psychopathically, but a smile remains as she tips her drink properly to her mouth and lets it glide easily down her throat. Regina lets her finish most of it, before lunging forward and deftly plucking the glass from unsuspecting fingers.

"Hey!"

The brunette lets out a throaty chuckle; dark eyes gleaming as she leans so close to Emma that her breath tickles porcelain cheeks. She flashes her own smile as the blonde shrinks back slightly; leaning away from that hot, distracting breath, and unintentionally exposing a tantalizingly long swatch of bare flesh at her throat. This illicits another titter, as Regina finishes the last of the liquid in her requisitioned glass and places it on the table to their side.

"What was that?"

"You're showing several signs of having had quite enough to drink, dear. I'm merely saving you from any potential embarrassment."

Emma huffs, regarding the Mayor cooly as the older woman still leans in too close; her weight carried on strong, slender arms that end in a tight grip at the Sheriff's knees. Regina glares at her a moment longer, before looking down at where her hands rest over blue denim in distaste.

"Your jeans are still damp, Miss Swan; you'll catch a cold."

Emma shrugs; the wet fabric is slightly uncomfortable, but she has warmed up considerably and isn't particularly bothered.

"I'm ok. And anyway, the last time you were threatened with me taking off my jeans, it was all terribly traumatic for you, if you remember. I'd hate to put you through that again..."

Regina regards her levelly; more than happy beat the woman before her at her own game.

"Nonsense, dear, I'll go fetch you something to borrow."

She pushes herself up from Emma's legs and feigns intent to get off the couch. Strong fingers circle her wrist quickly and force her to remain put.

"To hell you will! I had bruised hips for a week where those damn slacks cut in!"

The brunette smiles unsympathetically.

"I apologize, that must have called for quite some explanation to whichever gentlemen you were friendly with that particular week."

Green eyes roll dramatically at the barbed comment.

"Oh shut up, Regina."

"Or what?"

Impulsively, Emma grins and pushes herself up so that she kneels high up on the couch. She makes a show of working at the belt circling her hips; teasing the buckle open and pulling it slowly through the loops of her jeans.

She waits for a cry of distaste or anger.

She waits for Regina to call her bluff.

But the brunette just raises an eyebrow and leans back against the armrest to observe.

With the belt completely free, Emma holds it out over the stone floor and lets it drop gently; the dark leather curling up into a serpentine shape below them. Still, the darker woman's perfectly plucked brow remains raised and expectant, and the Sheriff slowly realizes she doesn't have much of a plan from here on out. Testing the water, she pops open the button of her Levi's and drags down the zipper, but still no protest comes from the other end of the couch. Cheeks pinkening a little, she hooks a finger through the belt-loops on either side of her hips in preparation to pull dark denim down.

The key word being 'preparation'.

Regina smirks and green eyes flicker up at her haughtily.

"Don't like to be kept waiting?"

Bold words to cover hesitant actions, and the Mayor bites back easily.

"Just waiting to see if you're a woman true to her word..."

Emma looks at her quizzically; hips still up in the air, and fingers still ready to peel away the wet denim encasing her thighs. Sexual, but for the endearing expression of incomprehension. The Mayor smirks and lets her eyes wander down the taut flesh at her eye-line; teasingly visible through translucent cotton.

"What word is that?"

"The last time I saw quite so...Much... Of you, Miss Swan, you were wearing some absolutely delightful little shorties depicting some adorable little cartoon characters, and, when I questioned you on this...Do you remember what you told me?"

Emma struggles to recollect her words; the answer hazy as her body thrums with the heat of the cider. Everything is apples and her face feels a little too warm, but her hooded study of the Mayor proffers her similar tell-tale signs of tipsy. Slowly, the answer dawns on her, and she feels the blush at her cheeks bloom brighter.

"...That my crotchless leathers were in the wash..."

Delicately smudged scarlet lips stretch into a salacious smile.

"Indeed, and if I remember correctly, you boldly promised to show me 'next time'... Which I would say this is, Miss Swan"

Still the blonde hesitates; unsure whether she's playing or being played. The fire burns brightly behind her; casting her features with dusky shadow as the flames halo her hair white. Regina bores into her with eyes that appear almost black in the current light; waiting to see what move the Sheriff will make.

"...Your hesitance is making me think you're all talk, Miss Swan... That if you were to remove your jeans as you threaten, I would have firm confirmation that you're nothing but a dirty liar..."

Pale fingers tremble tellingly- still hooked in the loops of time-battered Levi's- and Regina's eyes flash with victory.

"So you are a liar... Naughty girl... So, who would I see this time? Mickey Mouse? Or are you secretly a Mini girl?"

The Mayor's lips are curled too wide; too sure she holds the winning hand. Emma decides to play her own; delivering a Royal Flush. She pulls at the belt loops- sideways rather than downward- slowly splaying the denim out from the zip; creating a small wedge of what lies beneath her jeans to be exposed in a tantalizing V.

She was, of course, lying about the crotchless leathers.

However, the triangle of fabric that holds the Mayor's attention is neither cotton, nor does it depict the face of any wholesomely beloved American cartoon character.

No. The red lace is simple, and minimal in more ways than one. It clashes with the blue of the blonde's visible bra-straps, but Regina decides she's willing to forgive this much, and after all, it's not as though she's surprised at the mismatch. Her eyes linger on the red swatch of the younger woman's lingerie a moment longer, before traveling slowly up the latter's body and drilling into Emma's own. The blonde remains carefully expressionless as she holds Regina's intense stare; still poised, with her fingers still hooked into her jeans. The brunette flashes her gaze down to the slender fingers entwined within coarse denim, and when she speaks, her voice is slightly hoarse.

"Take them off."