"Wow."

It's a simple word, an expression of amazement, released through a breath against Regina's ear, tickling her skin, sending a shiver of satisfaction sprinting down her spine.

"I'll admit, it's impressive," She nods, then purses her lips in an effort to conceal a smirk as she mutters, "It's not the biggest I've seen, though."

Robin scoffs from behind her and they're close enough that Regina can feel the puff of his chest against her back, "Who are you kidding, Your Majesty? It's the biggest, the best, and the added bonus: You get to experience it with me."

"Cocky as ever," She rolls her eyes, though her mouth inadvertently curls into a smile. He rounds her, wearing a grin of his of his own- adding a brightness in contrast to the grey sky overcasting the tarmac they are standing on, "So this is your first time on a private jet?"

"Indeed, I am a virgin," Robin jokes, shoving his hands into the pockets of his black leather jacket, bouncing on the balls of his feet, almost as if he's apprehensive about his following question, "I take it this is not your first forte into the exclusive realm of flying?"

"Once or twice," Regina volleys a tease back at him, adding a wink, "Are you ready to go?"

"Absolutely. You grab the dogs, I'll get the bags-" He begins, but she reaches out and touches his arm to halt him from turning to return to their car. A car service had first fetched Regina and Henry, then they had driven to the apartment complex Robin's been residing in during his stay in Los Angeles, finally arriving onto the strip beside a plane Gold had arranged for them to take to Toronto.

Though, of course, he wouldn't allow the duo to travel in luxury without something for his own gain in return. Not only had they been instructed to keep the partition down and increase their flirtations, in hopes that Tom, their chauffeur, will be in search of a payday from the tabloids by reporting their behavior in his car, but also Gold had tipped off paparazzi for their landing.

"The driver will do that," Regina assures, sliding her hand up to fiddle with the collar of his jacket, then smiles at him as she lifts her chin in the car's direction, "Let's get our boys."

His hand raises, capturing one of hers, the concoction of his warm skin and his prickling facial scruff trapping her hand as he places a kiss opposite side of her palm, causing her breath to hitch. He offers her a toothy grin, bookended by those dimples that Regina finds more and more magnetic, "As you wish."

Regina lets out a breath, waiting for Robin to turn around and step away from her before she hisses to herself, "Get a grip, Mills."

Perhaps it's simply been too long since she last had some sort of companionship. That has to be the reason for this… whatever the hell this energy is between she and Robin. She refuses to believe anything less than a bad case of sexual frustration is the cause of her racing heartbeat and her drying mouth. It's been about a year since she last slept with someone else (well, aside from her own hand or a certain, vibrating, "Rabbit"), a fellow actor that she would occasionally scratch an itch of arousal with- someone, unbelievably, trustworthy in a town of glitz and snitches, whose reputation was on par with own her messy one. But he was also not very bright, not quite mature, and definitely didn't possess whatever quality Locksley does that is attracting Regina to him.

And Robin does nothing to abate that attraction when she sees him with a red and blue hued plaid leash wrapped around his wrist, Henry bounding alongside of him.

"Apologies, milady," He answers her unspoken question with a chuckle, "But it appears that your boy wanted out first and would not take no as an answer." His hand drifts down, almost instinctively, it appears, to pet her dog, the Labrador lapping up the attention in earnest. "You can take it from here or you can fetch Roland, whatever you'd prefer."

Regina would prefer not to have heat pooling in at the apex of her thighs from seeing the handsome man in front of her, donning distressed denim, that does little to conceal is firm lower physique, and a fitted black t-shirt underneath that damn leather jacket that hugs his muscular upper body, being so caring and considerate of her and the animal he knows is so precious to her.

"No, it's fine," She clears her throat, pushing the hair away from her face (which she prays doesn't appear as flushed as it feels), as she starts towards the rear of the car, "Henry seems good with you, so you take him up, I'll get Roland."

And, hopefully, her sanity while she's at it.

This may have been a bad idea, these travel arrangements, she thinks to herself. This whole thing, this "connection" is a farce, a PR stunt and nothing more, but the more she repeats that mantra in her head, the easier it seems to slip her mind when they're alone.

And maybe that's the problem, why are they alone with one another at all? Outside of Heroes and Villains, or this production for the media, they have no commitment towards one another.

Except for this flight.

She sighs, opening the backseat's door, instantly smiling as she is greeted by an overly enthusiastic poodle pup, panting and mewling, scratching at her with his small paws.

"You ready to go, buddy?" Regina asks and, as if he can comprehend her question, his head bobs with excitement, dark brown curls bouncing every which way.

Roland has quickly grown an attachment to her, Regina has found, much like Henry has with Robin already. On the way to the tarmac, Roland had sat comfortably in her lap, while her own dog had preferred the sitting on the floor of the vehicle between she and Roland's owner. The canines have seemed to smoothly resume the rapport they had created the few days prior on their walking adventure. She's happy they will have one another on the plane, that they won't be in solitary confinement in some dark luggage compartment on a commercial flight.

Even if it'll put such a strain on Regina's self-control that she ends up being the one on all-fours presented before her coworker.

With the dog hooked contently beneath her arm, and Regina spotting the driver transporting she and Robin's combined luggage, she forces out a breath, bracing herself, and whispers to Roland, "Not sure who should be on the leash, you or me."

She presses a kiss to the crown of the poodle's head, then ascends the steps leading her up onto the plane, leading her back to Robin.

"Well, I just got an e-mail from Feinberg," Robin announces as Regina steps aboard, unloading Roland onto the suede, beige sofa that lines the left side of the jet's interior, where Henry is currently lying. The smaller of the two dogs curls up beside his larger counterpart, while Henry's owner plops down in a similarly made armchair, on the opposite side of the aisle, across from Robin's seat. "It seems Heller is doing another rewrite."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Regina demands, a spike of rage contaminating her blood, "He does realize tomorrow is our first read-through, right?"

This is the fifth or sixth time that Isaac Heller has written the screenplay and while, truthfully, it was mainly just tweaks to dialogue, switching the sequences of a few scenes, nothing that really affects the story or the overall aesthetic of Regina's character, Wilma, it is still absolutely maddening to her not to have everything set in place.

"If it helps, she appears about as thrilled as you are," Robin smirks as he peers down at his phone, "The phrases 'pompous perfectionist', 'damned insane fool', and 'horrid little scribbler' are involved."

"Well this should be a fun shoot," Regina quips with a laugh, retrieving her own cell, from her Louis Vuitton bag (which matches her suitcases, of course), to view the message herself, "Let's just hope the cast, at least, can work well together. Might offset the tension by those two behind the camera."

"I think we're off to a splendid start."

She glances up to catch the smile Robin sends her and she works to maintain a blasé expression. "We're also instructed to do so, thief, don't forget." The attendant comes through, warning her two passengers that the flight is about to take off, as well as asking if there is anything she can do to assist them further, which both decline.

As they lurch a bit in their seats, the large jet elevating off of the ground and into the sky with a smooth take off, Robin poses an observation.

"Not sure which romance will be more interesting to play, ours' or Rich and Wilma's."

Regina snorts, perusing a selection of her e-mails and text messages, as she retorts, "Considering Wilma is on the run from a powerful witch and Rich is helping her escape, I think we have our answer."

Heroes and Villains is not the typical novel on the market and, perhaps, that's why it became the smash hit it had been. Stuck in that mysterious realm between Young Adult and Science/Fantasy Fiction, it, much like series of Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter preceding it, it's spanned genres, age brackets, and continents, which made it a best-seller, as well as critically acclaimed.

One aspect people seem to attach themselves to, in terms of subject, is the equal standings of the characters' sexes. While it is mainly female-dominated, with Wilma fleeing from a kingdom, controlled by an evil sorceress named Raven, who she had wronged, and, later, Raven's own daughter, Lilith, aids Wilma in helping to defeat her mother, there are also three male characters, who aren't made to look weaker to showcase the power of the women and vice versa.

And, because of the balance between the genders, it makes the romance between Rich and Wilma that much more important in the literary landscape because the characters truly are equals, who support one another and bring out the best of one another throughout the adventure that Heller's writing takes the audience through. That audience has formed a dedicated fanbase, an intense love for the fictional love that's been dubbed as "OutlawBandit."

"I'm not sure," Robin admits, stretching out his arm and ruffling Roland's curls, "I think we're quite a compelling couple."

"Do you, now?"

"Well, you're very compelling on your own, Your Majesty," He praises, removing his hand from his pet, who snuggles in better beside Henry, the dogs content and comfortable despite being suspended hundreds of thousands of feet above the ground, "We're already a gossip-rag sensation, as your manager had hoped, so it's only natural that it just escalates from there."

Regina decides to put his theory to a test and opens Twitter on her phone, searching articles and comments regarding her.

She spies the usual, negative comments. She attempts to ignore the majority of them, knows they're written by ignorant, uneducated people whose opinion shouldn't have an ounce of weight to them. With that said, she can't help but allow her eyes to drift over a few of them- an instant regret when she does.

HellersYellers: Ugh. Still can't believe they hired the Evil Queen as Wilma. WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO RUIN MY FAVE BOOK?! WTF

AutumnReeves: Why the hell is Robin Locksley dating Regina Mills? He can do SO much better than that bitch. Like me. ;)

BlanchardBabe: IF I SEE THE NAME REGINA MILLS ONE MORE TIME... -_- #FireReginaMills #SheShouldNEVERActAgain #QuitGivingBulliesAttention

Regina snorts as she clicks on the last one's profile, which states: My favorite M&M flavor is Blanchard. MarMar = LOML. #BlanchardsBeauties #MyIdolIsBetterThanYours #AntiBullying

"'Anti-bullying' my ass," She mutters to herself, sadly accustomed to Mary Margaret's hypocritical fans, as she returns to her previous search. This time she focuses solely on the positive comments, noticing how they've increased with her and Robin's association. He may be right concerning their popularity as a pairing.

inlovewithreginam: OMG LOOKING AT HOW CLOSE THEY'RE WALKING WITH EACH OTHER! THEY'RE DEFINITELY A THING! I ship them so hard!

melisficent: I can't imagine what else they're doing when they're alone! #LocksleyAndMills #reallifeOTP

fangirl4life: Dog walking in public? If that doesn't scream "dating in real life", I don't know what does. #robina #ishipitsohard

FangirlMess: THEY ARE SO OTP EVEN THEIR DOGS ARE DATING! They need to go all 101 Dalmatians and get tangled in their leashes... AND KISS.

Dandylion: ROBIN/REGINA ARE SO CUTE 2GETHER! ANYBODY WHO SAYS THEY'RE NOT DATING CAN FIGHT ME ON IT! #RealLifeShip #IShipIt!

AThiefsGirl: OMFG THOSE PICS THEY'RE TOTALLY IN LOVE ! REGINA AND ROBIN = #NewRealLifeOTP WE NEED A SHIP NAME! #Robina?! (3 (3 (3

RegalFeather: I just can't with this awesome couple! they are perfect for each other! reginamills and RobinALocksley :D

ForbiddenFruitFan: OMG Regina&Robin are trying to kill us, they're SO ADORABLE TOGETHER. I'm so weak they're so cute. PLEASE I NEED MORE PICS!

One fan had even taken to editing their username in dedication to this new "relationship" she has cultivated with Robin.

ReginaandRobin4ever: Robin and Regina are like Relationship goals! (3 #OTP

She then scrolls down the pages of one of the few fans she follows; a sweet girl who has defended Regina from the start of the asinine "Evil Queen" era, as well as before, and has even sent her beautiful, hand-drawn artwork. Judging by the excitement teeming the young woman's timeline, Regina expects Robin will be a subject in the next creative piece.

NotSoEvil: THE HANDS OMG KAJSDAOSKAKS They're totally a thing! #NewOTP

NotSoEvil: "Just two coworkers getting to know one another" *cough cough* OTP! *cough cough*

NotSoEvil: GUYS, WE NEED A SHIP NAME ASAP! THEY'RE SO A REAL LIFE THING! #Rogina #Robina #ThiefQueen

NotSoEvil: WHY CAN'T I HAVE SOMEONE TO LOOK AT ME LIKE REGINA AND ROBIN LOOK AT EACH OTHER? *CRIES* #fangirlproblems

NotSoEvil: HE'S FEEDING HER! I REPEAT, ROBIN IS FUCKING FEEDING REGINA! OAKSIAJSIAJSIAJ I will NEVER look at fries the same way! Just saying k

NotSoEvil: "It was wonderful, as it always is." My OTP *ALWAYS* eat together! *-* #WhatAboutYours hahah

NotSoEvil: who knew the Queen would have a soft spot for dogs haha #NotSoEvil #Cuties

NotSoEvil: CAN WE SERIOUSLY TAKE A MINUTE AND TALK ABOUT ROBIN'S TONED LEGS?! #HOT

"It seems your 'toned' and 'hot' legs have their own fanbase, thief," Regina snickers, barely able to conceal her grin, adding "Oh, and your 'sexy' biceps" when she spots a tweet that includes a zoomed-in picture of Robin's upper arms beside a picture that reads: This Is Art.

He rolls his eyes in exasperation (an action that just exacerbates the amusement Regina finds in the situation), then, cocks his head to the side, a peculiar expression being painted on his face. One of curiosity, of bafflement, she notes. She raises her own brow in question, daring him to ask whatever seems to be gnawing at his thoughts.

"Nothing," Robin shakes his head, unconvincingly, which he must realize because within a breath, he's following it up with a shrug of his shoulder, confessing, "I'm just surprised someone like you partakes in those sites."

Regina nearly drops her phone.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? 'Someone like you'?" She demands, a vile mixture of anxiety and anger balling into a tight knot in her belly. It's a not-so-pleasant reminder of when Regina's father had called her, near tears, after the first 'Evil Queen' reports had surfaced. Henry had asked her how she could behave in such a manner and questioning if she were on drugs and "what happened to my little girl?"

It was the same lack of faith in her that she can sense from Robin's words now. And, for some reason, it lacerates her heart just as deeply.

"Calm down, Your Majesty," He soothes, playfully, leaning forward, his knuckles grazing her knee (sending a shiver up Regina's thigh that she tries to ignore), "I didn't mean anything unfavorable by my comment. I simply meant someone of your fame, it may be overwhelming. Not to mention, you seem to be one to like your privacy." She sighs, mentally kicking herself for jumping to the worst case conclusion, which Robin seems to recognize.

"I don't blame you for thinking the worst of my statement, Regina. I'd wager it's what you're used to. But you told me for this to work, I'd have to believe the best of you- that's a two-way street. I don't see your tabloid persona, so you have to stop assuming that I do."

She nods, a silent agreement because, as irritating as it is to admit to herself, he is right. She can't expect him to always be condemning her whenever he speaks and, as much of a farce as this "relationship" is, she has to some sort of stock of her trust in him.

But she'll be damned if she tells him that.

Instead, she shrugs her shoulders, explaining in regards to his inquiry before, "I didn't think it was fair to punish the fans that I do have simply because of what another group of people assume of me."

"That's a fantastic attitude to have," Robin compliments as he leans back in his seat, removing his fingers from her skin- to Regina's unwarranted displeasure- and reaching over to pet Henry, "Personally I've never found a use for social media."

She looks up at him, her nose scrunching up in confusion, "But you have an account. I remember following you after your casting announcement." She types his name into Twitter's search-bar and, sure enough, "RobinALocksley" pops up. Though she finds that he wasn't exaggerating, only a few tweets under his name and all of which having to do with The Thief.

"I just did it for promotional reasons. Not even sure how to use the bloody thing."

Regina notices that he doesn't even have any photos posted and she smirks to herself as an idea sparks in her mind. "Well, we'll just have to change that."

She stands to her feet, crossing the miniscule space that distances their seats, demanding, "Give me your phone."

His eyebrows raise, curiosity manifesting itself through the rest of his features, but he surrenders the phone from his pocket regardless of any hesitations, making her grin as she her thumb flits across the screen- first, downloading Twitter's app.

"And what, may I ask, are you doing, Mills?"

"Making my picture your lockscreen," She smirks at him from beneath her mascara-laced lashes, softly whapping him as he winks at her and mutters the entirely overly-charming line of: "Well my mobile would be quite lucky to have you on it."

"I assure you, thief, whatever I'm on is lucky."

"Oh, I have no doubt," Robin beams, clearly amused that Regina is playing along with his suggestive humor. His smile widens, as do his eyes in surprise, as she perches herself along the arm of his seat, "So this is my lucky day, now?"

It'd be her turn to roll her own orbs if she wasn't focusing her attention on his phone, calling up his camera feature and placing the screen in front of them.

Before Robin can ask, she answers his unspoken question, "We're taking a picture, then you post it on your account. It can reintroduce you to the world of social media, as well as get people talking about our 'relationship'."

"Always thinking about business, aren't you?"

Regina swallows a knot that suddenly forms in her throat, avoiding his gentle, yet prying eyes, "That's what my whole life has been, it's hard to train my brain to think otherwise."

He mhmms in acknowledgement of her admission, yet, mercifully, allows the subject drop into the small, empty space between their shoulders.

She positions the screen an arm's length away from them, leaning against him, ever so slightly, to capture them both in the shot. "Ready?"

"Whenever you are, milady," He murmurs and his voice vibrates pleasantly against Regina's neck, the sensation seeming to parch her instantly. She gulps, as her tongue slithers out to wet her lips, while she tries to keep her finger, hovering over the shutter button of the phone, steady.

"One…, two..."

Just as Regina opens her mouth to say "three", either she is falling or he is pulling, but no matter why or how, the result remains the same: Regina Mills in Robin Locksley's lap.

She squeals as it happens, unbelievably, can't remember squealing since she was a child being bestowed with her own horse by her father. The same feeling thrums through her now, as it had then, a feeling of weightless giddiness, where time freezes and, in that brief, paused moment, everything good in the world is illuminated and everything bad is forgotten.

But as the freefall comes to a close, the reality of the situation comes crashing down around her. She is cradled in Robin's lap, his hands clutching her securely, his head ducked a bit to look at her- making the distance between their faces nearly nonexistent.

"So I am the lucky one, it seems," He breathes, the ends of his lips tipping upwards, more and more, until his full-blown smile is on display, an airy chuckle escaping him.

While he finds the amusement in the predicament, Regina is temporarily paralyzed. For the first time in years, she feels as if she is tethered, not just to Robin and her makeshift seat on top of him, but by gravity in general, the air growing headier all around her. She wants to move, wants desperately to brush this off, to be aloof and unaffected, but discovers that she can only choke out the first thing that pokes through towards the forefront of her mind: "What does the 'A' stand for?"

"Hmm?"

He's obviously confounded by her inquiry, his brows scrunched up, his eyes searching her own. She elaborates, "The 'A', in your Twitter username. 'Robin A Locksley', what does it stand for?"

"Ambrose. It was my grandfather's name," He explains, easily, a contrast to Regina, who feels as if she is a tightly wound wad of vibrating nerves, jerking in Robin's grasp when his thumb brushes against an exposed patch of skin on her hip, where her light gray, high-low quarter-sleeved t-shirt from the Lush brand (which matched the over-sized, checkered scarf wrapped around her neck) had ridden up in their position.

"It's a nice name."

Robin seems to find amusement in her breathy compliment as he shakes his head, his smile widening with every intake of air he absorbs. And every breath Regina can feel as his chest rises and falls against her own, in and out, in and out. "So did you get it?"

It takes a moment for her to conclude what he is asking until she remembers the phone still clasped in her hand.

The picture.

She shifts on his lap, pride momentarily swelling within her as she feels a half-hardened piece of Robin's anatomy poking at her hip, bringing the phone back into her line of vision. Surprisingly, a photo really was captured, her thumb must have punched the shutter as she had tumbled off the arm of the chair.

It's a bit blurry, but it's a recognizable image of both Robin and Regina. It's as she was tumbling into his arms- her mouth agape, but her smile wide; her eyes closed, but her head thrown back. Robin is surprised- his eyebrows shot up nearly towards his hair line, but his eyes sparkle as he is looking down at her.

In any other circumstance, if she were different, he was different, they were different, Regina would think the picture was cute. But, instead, it has her frowning and quickly exiting from the photo.

"What?" Robin questions after a pregnant pause, "Was it no good?"

Regina scrambles off of him as she answers, shoving his phone back in his palm, "It's not good enough to post, no."

The photo is personal, the thought gnawing at her like a bitter taste she cannot wash from her mouth. It isn't posed like she had anticipated, like a picture two people without feelings, like they should be away from the public eye, would take.

Robin disagrees, apparently.

"This is fantastic," He comments, he must have pulled the picture back up on his screen, his eyes attached to it, "It looks candid, adorable, if I say so myself." Regina can't resist chuckling at that, not expecting to hear the description of "adorable" pass by Robin's lips, but sobers herself as he continues, "We couldn't have planned it better. This will get tongues wagging for sure."

She shakes her head, "I just think that it's, um, too much for the first picture. We want to keep the mystery alive for this to work."

"Come look at this," He requests, a gentle, pleading tone caressing his words as he adds, "Please, Regina."

She sighs, relinquishing, bending down to his level to look at the picture. A part of her itches to plant herself back on his lap, a part of her she dismisses instantly. Instead, she readjusts the scarf surrounding her neck, her fingers appreciating the busying movement, so they don't reach out and grasp onto Robin.

"It's not as if we're snogging in front of the lens," He explains as they both observe the frozen image of themselves, "But we're close, we're comfortable. It's not like mannequins set beside one another, it's real."

That's the problem.

"But, if you truly don't like the photo, milady, I will erase it right now. I do not wish to pressure you, ever."

He's not, he's not pressuring her. He is thinking about the best for their ruse, for her career's projection, for Heroes and Villains success, while she is, selfishly, she knows, thinking only of how she cannot separate her body's craving for release of the tension that crackles between she and Robin and the reason for that tension, why she and him are on this plane, taking this photo, pondering these possibilities.

"Post it," She directs simply, refusing to say "you're right", but knowing that he, indeed, is. He asks her how to do that and she instructs him on how to sign in and where and what to click. When he gets the photo uploaded, he asks what he should caption it and she shrugs her shoulders, "You've had decent instincts about this so far, do whatever you want."

"'The most beautiful smile I've ever seen…'" He mock-types, teeth sinking into his bottom lip cheekily as he peers up at her and she just shakes her head at him. He sets his phone down on his knee, focusing on her for a moment, "A lot of this may be a farce, but that certainly is not."

Her breath hitches noticeably in her throat and it nearly chokes her with the intensity. To offset the emotions stirring beneath her skin, she guffaws loudly, though the rumbling in her chest is from the pounding of her heart more than her forceful laughing. "Okay, Romeo, try to focus on making our audience believe what you're selling more than me."

Robin grunts something undiscernible under his breath, now silent as his thumbs carefully punch out a comment to tag to their picture.

Regina's phone bings in the near distance of her plane seat, she forgot that she assigned Twitter to notify her of Robin's tweets when she had followed him, another advisement from Gold. She opens up the tweet and smiles as his actual caption comes into her view.

RobinALocksley: Lots of laughs with this lovely leading lady. And we haven't even started shooting yet. How lucky am I? ;)

"Nice alliteration," Regina offers in review, tempering her galloping heart as her eyes keep being attracted back to the word "lovely". Christ, what was she, 15? She attempts to, again, shake herself of the schoolgirl sensations that are being evoked from her, flattening her tone, "We'll have to give you a crash course in hashtags, though."

She watches Robin's jaw clench momentarily, irritation scribbled across his facial features over her cold demeanor. He's not mad, no; truthfully, Regina isn't even sure he is capable of rage, the only display she's ever seen hinting towards such emotion be when he has opened up about his parents, but, even then, it's just a bubbling anger, well-tended to with poise and control.

It's what he employs now, spinning the situation into one of amusement as he heaves out a petulant breath and mutters a sentence that has her flicking his shoulder with her finger, before she collapses back in her own seat:

"Whatever you say, Your Majesty."

Time had seemed to steadily pass by, with Robin and Regina staying occupied, whether it was rousing their animals from their slumber in an attempt to play, busying themselves on their phones, or discussing the film with one another. She had purposefully avoided topics of conversation that were personal, genuine, like their past conversations had leant themselves towards, but if he had noticed, he hadn't said a word.

But, now, any effort in utilizing time was a moot point, as their jet sits, resting, on the tarmac- they have arrived in Toronto. Though it was a private airfield, Gold had warned them that he was alerting the press and the public, in whatever mysterious, nefarious channels he goes through, and Regina can already hear the commotion outside.

"That picture probably helped pull this decent turn out," Robin suggests as he pokes his head towards one of the peephole windows, eyeing the crowds gathered for their arrivals, "It already has over 10,000 retweets."

Regina sniggers, entertained by his words, bitter from the situation, "Look who is getting the hang of technology."

Robin turns back to look at her, "All thanks to you, milady."

She forces a small smile and he must be able to decipher the insincerity of the gesture, fore he is now grabbing her hand in his own, lacing their fingers together like a sneakers' strings, his thumb swiping rhythmically in the groove between her own and her index finger. "All we do is step off the plane with Roland and Henry, walk a few paces, and get into the car."

"I know."

"It's going to be fine," He assures and she sighs, knows he's right, knows this bout of anxiety that floods through her whenever she is faced with these crowds is asinine.

But there's more pressure than there had been before. She has to calculate her movements, what will sell a potential romance with Robin in an authentic way, without fooling herself into believing the actions are actually genuine and confusing her hormones more than they already are.

So she nods her head, removing herself from her seat and calling Henry to her to fasten his leash onto his collar. Robin slowly releases her hand, attending to Roland as she vehemently makes certain that Henry's harness is secure, murmuring to him as she does so, "Don't be scared of all the people out there, okay? And if you're not nosy and don't try to go on a mission, there'll be an antler ear in it for you when we get to the house."

"I'd offer to handle him, but I'm afraid Roland will try to jump from whoever's arms he's in..."

"It's fine," Regina replies, scratching behind Henry's ear, "He'll be a good boy, they both will."

"Awful lot of faith in our dogs, Your Majesty," Robin teases, scooping up Roland in both his arms as he stands to his feet, Regina following suit, winding the end of Henry's leash tightly around her wrist. Robin offers her a smile, one a bit dimmer than any she's seen grace his mouth so far in their arrangement, "I wish you had that same faith in us."

Regina is stunned speechless.

She's about to ask his meaning when he turns, Roland bouncing in his arms, to exit the plane, Henry yanking at his leash in an attempt to follow their new friends.

It's true, she knows. She hasn't been as confident in their ruse, in him as a partner in this, as he has with her- the incident with the picture, her concealed feelings involved or not, was a recent demonstration of that. She hadn't trusted his judgement, nor him, even before that, when they had been discussing her presence on social media. It's not because she doesn't trust him, she just doesn't trust people, in general, and that's something she has to reconcile for this situation to efficiently work. But he also must know that she has more on the line, that if this fails, she'll be the one to lose the most.

Right?

She follows him out of the plane, Henry trotting down the steps, by her side, as they're greeted with the shouts and screams and attention of hordes of individuals that have assembled. Phones and cameras are held high in the air, several Canadian police officers restricting the access many people are trying to gain to she and Robin.

He seems as unaffected as ever.

He holds out his hand as she reaches the last few steps off the jet, which she accepts, gratefully, as he aids her in her descent to the pavement.

While Roland quakes in his owner's arms, ducking his head into the crook of Robin's elbow in an attempt to hide from the collection of citizens and the camera flashes, Henry isn't afraid in the least bit, eager to investigate the purpose of people hollering his handler's name, in addition to Robin's.

As much as she's loathe to compliment Gold in any way, he doesn't do anything half-assed. There must be over one hundred people here, all clambering for the attention of the two of them. Or, perhaps, the Twitter post had helped to garner the gathers continuing to pour in.

It's hot, muggy, outside and she's not sure if it's from the Toronto weather in June or the scrutiny they're currently under, but either way it doesn't help Regina's wobbling legs adjusting to being on solid ground again, in Jimmy Choo heels, no less, and she's torn between being grateful for Robin's steadying arm, when he curls it around her back, and suffering a bout of heatstroke from the additional warmth his touch creates.

His moist lips brush against her ear as he whispers, "Do you want to do autographs and pictures or just leave?"

"I don't want to put Henry and Roland through any more of this," She returns, leaning up close to his own ear and he nods affirmatively.

So they scuttle past the crowds, both yelling at vague expressions of "We love you!" and "Thank you for having us!" in responses to shouts from several Canadian fans, before Robin opens the door, ushering in Roland, Henry, Regina, then himself and shutting it closed, as he falls back against the leather seat.

"Bit of an adrenaline rush, isn't it?" Robin exhales once they're ensconced in the backseat of the town car that had been sent to retrieve them. Roland pops up in his lap, pawing at the tinted windows, yapping at the people he sees. Henry withdraws from Regina's pets to join his fellow canine, though he merely observes, mutely.

She doesn't say anything for beat, merely glances out her window, then turns to Robin, "Nature of the business is what Mother always says."

"She isn't much of a sympathetic person, is she?"

Regina laughs out loud at that, shaking her head, "No, no, definitely not. Though, this is something I can somewhat agree with her upon. I mean, it's so trivial. 'Ooh, too many people like me!', what kind of complaint is that? Especially for me, when I haven't had this kind of positive reaction in, I don't even know, how damn long."

"I don't think anyone can be expected to be at ease with millions of eyes on them, Regina. You don't have to feel badly for that."

"Yeah, well…" She trails off absentmindedly, "I think once I get to the house, I'll relax."

"House?" Robin inquires and she nods, explaining how she always has Golden Spun Entertainment rent her a house, somewhere secure and secluded, but accessible to set and, most importantly, with a yard for Henry. She hates the lack of privacy that hotel and apartments, despises, even more so, the shortage of space that they allow for a dog of Henry's size. So, in Toronto, Gold had set her up in a rented five bedrooms, four bathrooms, brick exterior home. "Ah, they've put Roland and I up in a penthouse. I think he'd much prefer the lawn."

"Well he is welcome any time," Regina coos, reaching over and caressing Roland's curls, who immediately relaxes into her attentions.

"And me?" Robin jokes, Regina playing along and pretending to ponder the question. He sinks back in his seat, grunting, "Huh. And just when I was going to invite you to a get-together at my place."

"Get together?" Regina parrots, raising her eyebrow inquisitively, "What kind of 'get together'?"

Robin drops their playful banter, adjusting himself (as much as he can with Roland, now on his back, gratefully accepting a tummy rub from Regina) to better face her, "I wanted to do something to introduce us to the cast as opposed to just showing up at the table read tomorrow as complete strangers."

It's a decent idea, would certainly make the process less clinical than she's used to. It could also establish she and Robin's flirtation amongst the people they'll be spending most of their time with. And if the Heroes and Villains cast resembles her past few experiences, Regina is sure they'll giddily skip to the tabloids and online rags with any intel they think they've gotten on Robin and herself.

"If you're going to have people over, perhaps Roland can have a sleepover with Henry tonight," She suddenly finds herself suggesting, Henry's ears perking up at his name, almost as if he understands and is excited by her idea, "And I can bring him tomorrow to the studio and you can take him home after that."

Robin frowns briefly, glancing down at the pet splayed across his lap, "I'm not sure I could leave him for that long."

Regina giggles, removing her hand from a protesting Roland, who whimpers at the loss, to Robin's shoulder, "Well, my company for a portion of the evening, will just have to suffice, Locksley."

"I guess, for Roland," He sighs heavily, running a hand over his dog, meanwhile Regina uses the back of her hand to smart his arm and he chortles, rubbing at the "wound" she inflicted, "Always so violent, Your Majesty, do I need the Royal Canines' protection?"

"You're not the one who needs protecting," She retorts, though she finds herself reiterating this thought to herself, more than she is saying it to Robin. Clearing her throat, she tries to stifle the emotions, the tie, she senses in conjuncture to this man beside her, "And I think Roland would rather be us Mills' anyway, wouldn't you, sweetheart?"

As she speaks, it sirens Roland, who eagerly hops from Robin's lap and into her own and she displays a smug grin, especially as Robin crosses his arms, mumbling a "Bloody traitor" beneath his breath, focusing his attention on Henry; the Lab more than willing to be bestowed with attention by Robin.

She's almost so distracted by Roland cuddling on her legs that she does hear Robin when he speaks and has to ask him to repeat himself.

A look of mock offense contorts on his expression as he gasps, "Preferring my dog over me, well this relationship is already in shambles!"

"Serves you right for preferring a dog over me for this evening," Regina fires back with a juvenile gesture, of her tongue poking out, to punctuate the sentiment.

"Let the record show that I still agreed upon Roland staying with you, so, no, I did not choose him over you."

"'Let the record show'? This isn't a courtroom."

"Perhaps that'll be our next project," Robin jests, though she doesn't miss the look of sincerity that passes his face as he scratches at his beard, "A courtroom drama where we're two attorneys who have an affair on the conference table."

Feeling mischievous, she smirks as she suggests, "Or two married divorce attorneys who get a divorce themselves."

"So pessimistic," He tsks, disapprovingly.

She rolls her eyes, but laughs, nonetheless, "The only 'stable' relationship I've been privy to is the one where my parents live on opposite sides of the country and I'm, currently, in a relationship that is solely for the benefit of my public image, what reason could there be to be optimistic about when it comes to romances?"

Light creeps its way back into Robin's toothy grin and he locks eyes with her once more as he affirms, "We'll just have to find you one."

A few hours later, after getting Henry and Roland settled, after unpacking most of her belongings and getting a feel for the house, she uses the car service and the information (time, location, etc.) that Robin had texted her, to arrive here, at his hotel, for his gathering.

Regina rides the elevator up to the penthouse with excitement brewing low in her belly. She's hopeful, for the first time in a long time. She hopes the cast gets along well, then again, she just hopes it isn't a repeat of the past few projects she's worked on, with everyone instantly against her, thanks to the Forbidden Fruit debacle.

The first thing she notices is the jumbled mess of voices that ricochet off the walls (white walls, she notes, the penthouse an extension of the hotel's modern brand) when she opens the door, as Robin had instructed her to do. It's a large space, with high ceilings and an open layout, all of which is dominated by the large accumulation of people. More people than the cast houses and more than she was expecting, for sure.

"Our sensational cohost has arrived, everyone!" Robin announces as he shimmies his way through several people, towards her.

"What the hell is this?" Regina hisses to him when Robin's face is beside hers, as he assists her in removing her trench. His chuckle ghosts across her cheek and she manages to keep the smile fixated on her face.

He announces to the room, "I'm going to show our leading lady where to deposit her coat, excuse us, will you?"

His hand against the small of her back gently guides her down a hallway, to the farthest door. When opens it up, it reveals a large bedroom, with a king-sized mattress sitting atop a mahogany stained poster-bed. The décor of the room continued in from the main room, the same darkened woods highlighted by cream paint and accents.

Robin's bedroom, she gathers.

Tossing her designer outerwear onto his bed, she rounds on him, arms folded tightly against her chest, "Care to explain?"

"I told you I wanted to get to know people from the film before-"

Regina interrupts his verbal offering, holding her hand up to stop him, "Yes, I know, I wanted that as well. But when you told me you wanted to hold a gathering here, I thought it'd be just the main cast, maybe Feinberg or Heller, not a host a damn swingers party!"

"'Swingers'?" He fails to conceal his laughter, chortling through his nose as his teeth dig into his bottom lip, "You're not used to attending parties are you, Your Majesty?"

"I've attended many parties!" Regina argues, a tad too indignantly considering most celebrations she's been invited to are requirements of the business: after parties, charity events, obligatory celebrations for someone's anniversary of something she didn't care about.

He takes a few, cautionary steps closer towards her, and she notices the way his hands tremor at his sides, as if they're itching at an invisible restraint. Itching to touch her? Robin is an affectionate man, not overtly, not disrespectfully, she knows, knows that's why he's resisting the urge to comfort her simmering ire with a caress of her arm or holding her hand. And while that sounds tempting and her own body seems to be like a magnet to his, she's pissed and reluctant and folds her arms over her chest to illustrate that point further.

"Regina, I just wanted to do something fun with the cast and crew and, yes, it's quite a few people, they're also people we will be spending most of the next few months with. I'm sorry I hadn't made my intention clearer, the last thing I wanted was for this to upset you."

It isn't, she realizes, he was just trying to be team-player that he has been ever since that day, in Gold's office, a few weeks ago, when he agreed to pretend to court a total stranger for the revamping of her image and publicity for their movie. She shouldn't be surprised that he isn't elitist, that he invited the gaffers and the stuntmen, in addition to those who will be with them on camera.

"It's fine. A little heads-up in the future would be appreciated though," She weakly scolds, her arms falling to her sides and Robin takes the hint, tentatively reaching out and fiddling with her hand, until she takes the initiative to link their fingers, "Did you tell them I was your cohost for this little soiree?"

Robin peeks up at her sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders, "I thought it'd be a good course of action. The two leads throwing a party together, but atop the rumors about us already... It could make our 'relationship' more believable to the set."

She huffs out a breath, admitting, "Well, you have a point there. How did you explain your cohost not being present when people arrived?"

"I said you had to go home to change."

She can't resist from laughing, especially when he animates his eyebrows in an exaggerated, suggestive way, "You should have gone into publicity, thief. I think you could even outdo Gold." Speaking of the manipulative imp, she takes another cursory glance around the room, "Swanky place they set you up in."

"It's not exactly home," Robin concedes, giving her hand a small tug, leading her out of the room, "But I'm not complaining, at all. Besides, it'll be better when Roland is here. Thank you. For taking him for the night."

"It's my pleasure," She pauses, then laughs, adding, "Actually, it's Henry's. They've been having a ball running around together."

"Careful, Your Majesty, you'll have him wanting to stay with you, instead of me."

She can't resist chortling further as his lips pull down into an exaggerated pout. Feeling bad, perhaps by the promise of alcohol that she had caught a glimpse of out in the living room, she extracts her hand from Robin's, reaching up and swiping her thump across his frown, "You're the thief, Locksley, not me."

She throws him a smirk, then saunters out of the room with purpose, barely hearing his retort of: "Oh, I wouldn't be so sure about that, Mills."

"Ah, there she is! The woman of the hour!" A recognizable voice calls out when she enters the main room of the penthouse, crowded with mingling guests, and Regina pivots on her heel, coming face-to-face with the boyish grin of Killian Jones.

"Killian," Regina greets pleasantly, accepting a kiss on each of her cheeks from her new costar, "I see you're as charming as ever."

It's not difficult to see why he's been Hollywood's favorite bachelor the past few years. To match his winsome attitude and his silky accent, he's the epitome of "tall, dark, and handsome." He has his black mane atop his head perfectly styled, the same ebony hair trailing down his face to a goatee that highlights his sharp jawline, and a drawn-on ring of black around his eyes that accentuates the blue of his orbs in much of the same way.

Not the type of man she's attracted to, but, she's not ignorant enough to not see the general appeal.

"And I see you're as ravishing as ever," He compliments, his eyes innocently roaming over her figure momentarily, then meeting her stare again, "And without that shriveled up crocodile over your shoulder for once." She snorts at his description for Gold, but as she opens her mouth to respond, Robin arrives at her side, her drink in hand- something that doesn't go unnoticed by Killian, "Aye, though it seems we all may have to fight this one for your attention."

"I certainly won't object to spending more time with Regina," Robin states and Regina feels his suddenly free arm, curl around her waist, after handing her a glass, judging by appearance and aroma, white wine. His hands flexes against her hip once, twice, before he unravels his quick hold on her, "But she may be sick of me already, so I'll leave her choice of company to her."

She swirls her beverage in her glass as she transitions her stare from Killian to Robin, reassuring, "I wouldn't want to abandon my cohost, so no fighting will be necessary, boys."

"Except for on-set, of course," Killian reminds, excitement washing over him as he turns to the man beside her, "Swords and bows, this is every young lad's dream when they grow up."

"Indeed," Robin nods in agreement and Regina can feel the youthful enthusiasm radiating off of him, matching their costar's, "If we were to live in a tree fort, it would truly be a childhood wish come true."

The other man erupts in a hearty chuckle, slapping him on the shoulder, "Don't forget the lovely lasses in need of our valiant knight skills!"

Regina rolls her eyes, readying her gaze to shift away from the testosterone-induced conversation, when Robin's voice surprises her as his hand settles on her back again. "I rather prefer a knightly woman to fight alongside with."

She turns her head, discovering his stare resting on her and she genuinely grins in return. She knocks his hip, playfully, with her own, remarking, "That is if you can keep up with said 'knightly woman', Locksley."

"Well, if he can't, I know that I can," Killian offers with his typical saucy smirk and Regina scoffs.

"You could barely keep up with the Kardashians, let alone me, guyliner."

"You'll have to worry about keeping up with me, first," Another guest interjects into the conversation, a woman with long, blonde tresses trickling over a red jacket she wears, sidling up beside Killian. He grows somber, quieter, at this woman's appearance, simply muttering a "Swan". Is he blushing?

Robin fills the moment of silence, explaining that "Swan" is Emma Swan, the set's weaponry instructor, who will be overseeing the scenes and stunts involving the various swords, blades, and other instruments of destruction, which clarifies how she knows Killian already since his character, Rich's friend, Roger, is a seaman with a knack for wielding a sabre.

Before Regina can repeat the same pleasantries she's grown accustomed to in the industry, the other woman, hand on her hip, questions, "You're with the bow, aren't you?"

"Excuse me?"

"You aren't doing any swordplay in the film, right? Or you're using a stunt double."

Regina narrows her eyes at Killian's advisor, shaking her head slowly, "Yes, my character uses a bow and arrow in the film and, no, I wouldn't be using a stunt person either way. I'm perfectly capable, thank you."

Emma takes in Regina's attire, dismissively, it seems, as she snorts, "That's what everyone says, but I kind of have the ability for telling who can really handle being trusted with this responsibility, acting or not."

"And because I'm not dressed like," She gestures towards Emma's outfit, of loose-fitting jeans, plain, cotton shirt, beneath the parted leather, "a teenager in a Gap ad, that 'tells' you anything about me?"

"No, but this high maintenance attitude of yours does."

"'High maintenance'?" Regina repeats, incredulously, feeling as if her eyes are going to pop out their sockets as anger singes at her retinas from looking at the woman Killian is already trying to usher away.

"Emma, that's enough," Robin states sternly, beginning to guide Regina, who maintains her glare targeted on the blonde, as he continues to chide her, "When you are in my place of residence, you will be respectful to people, especially to Regina. If you continue to act this way, you are free to leave, but I'd like to think we can be professional adults here."

"Lovely to make your acquaintance, Miss Swan," Regina sarcastically snaps, as she and Robin vacate their space beside Killian and Emma.

"I could have handled that, you know," Regina huffs as she follows Robin through the throng of strangers (to her, at least) in his living room, "What about your whole 'I want to fight alongside a woman' swill to Jones?"

"That remains true, milady," He replies, "But I also didn't want to fight an actual brawl with you tonight, which is what may have happened if you two had continued as you were."

"She was way out of line."

"Indeed, and that's why I told her as much," Robin concurs adamantly, as he steers them both towards another woman, this one donning a simple, blue cocktail dress, a contrast to her head of fiery red curls cascading down her back, a back Robin taps on as he says to Regina, "So allow me to make up for that."

"This is our on-set expert for future archery fun, Meri…" Robin introduces, but is cut off by the woman, who appears to recognize Regina, something the actress typically cringes at, but this 'Meri' has a warm smile plastered on her nude colored lips, so hope for a better experience swells within her.

"Try not to hold it against me," The redhead's accented voice hums against Regina's eardrums; Irish? No. Scottish, she believes, after Meri continues, "I hear the last Mary ye had to deal with was a right bitch of a lass."

Regina can't help but laugh at the blunt statement and she raises her drink, glass meeting glass as Meri mirrors her actions, "Oh, I have a feeling we'll get along just fine."

"They tell me Barton's been teaching ye thus far in Los Angeles."

"You know him?" Regina asks, after swallowing a mouthful of vodka, tonic water, and lime juice, flummoxed by this revelation. She had never shot a bow before and had wanted to be as prepared as possible for this role, so she had taken several archery lessons back home.

Meri scoffs, her chest puffing with pride as she explains, "Aye, Clint and I trained together when we were wee ones before his family moved from Aberdeenshire, back to the States. I bested him every time."

"Nice to know we'll be learning from the best," Robin offers with a polite nod of acknowledgement, then excuses himself, giving Regina's upper arm an affectionate squeeze before doing so, and she watches him shuffle across the floor towards the entrance, welcoming a thickset, burly man who dons a long, curly hair and a lengthy beard of the same coarse curls, with an earnest embrace.

"Glad I won't have to worry about ye two aiming arrows at one 'nother," Meri's comment yanks Regina's attention back to the archer, who is sporting an expression of amusement, "Yer already as close as a bear and its tree."

"It's almost like someone orchestrated our affinity." Like a manipulative bastard who sits upon a throne of machinations back in L.A.

Meri grins at the, what Regina implicated was, joke, admirably, "That's quite special."

"It's something, all right," She brushes off with a smile of her own, though a bit tighter, more forced, than her fellow female, then changes the subject.

The duo converse over Meri's experience, as well touching on their schedule for filming. They wind up conversation about that "right bitch of a lass" Mary Margaret, Meri admitting openly that she hadn't believed a word spun about Regina, calling her former Forbidden Fruit costar a "coward" for how she handled the situation.

It's comforting, whenever Regina stumbles upon someone who supports her and not the mousy rival she has acquired in her industry, which she admits readily to Meri before the two women finish their conversation and progress to other party goers, Regina gravitating to Robin, who is now still engrossed in a discussion with the man of large girth she had spotted him with before.

"Regina!" Robin greets with the same enthusiasm he always seems to employ around her and it's unclear as to if he reels her in or if she nestles in beside him like Roland had to Henry on the plane, but she's at his side with his arm, once again, curled around her hip, "This is one of my oldest friends, John Littleton. He'll actually be working security on the set."

"Very nice to meet you, John," Regina addresses, reaching her hand out, which John accepts, placing a kiss to the back of it, gracefully and returning her sentiment.

"It's also nice to finally meet the gal that Robbie's been flapping his gums about nonstop."

Regina's eyebrows perk up in surprise, glancing between the old friends, "'Robbie's' been talking about me, huh?"

"An occasional mention, here and there, we are headlining a major motion picture together, you're bound to come up in conversation."

"Right. I don't remember 'she's the most beautiful woman I've gotten to work with' being related to talk about the World Cup or buffalo wings," John corrects Robin's nonchalance with a full laugh that sounds as if it rumbles up straight from his belly.

"Perhaps if you hadn't been so busy shoveling those wings into your mouth, you would've understood, big boy," Robin shoots back at John, the larger of the men just rolling his eyes at his friend's chagrin.

"So you didn't call me beautiful?"

"I will call you beautiful right now, milady," He responds, fervently, his hand soothingly rubbing against her hip, then he glowers back at John, "I just don't think you should hear it from this here sod."

Regina rolls her eyes. Men, she harrumphs to herself, the two in front of her chuckling with the familiar ease she assumes they're used to. "Well it was nice to meet you, John. I look forward to getting to know you more as we work."

"It was a joy to meet you, as well, Ms. Mills. And I apologize for my ribbing, Robin's like a brother to me."

"Please, call me Regina, and no apologies necessary. I happen to like ribbing him, too," Regina admits with a wink to Robin's friend.

"Well you two together is just trouble waiting to happen," Robin jokes, then turns to Regina, "Would you like to mosey a bit?"

She nods her head, offering John another smile, as she and Robin start to amble through the hotel room.

"So you and John are friends and he's working on H&V?"

"Yup," Robin confirms, taking a drag from the beer in his hand, "He's lived up here, working security for everything from events to personnel to television sets and I thought it'd be great if his first major motion picture was my first one in the States, or, well, North America, I suppose. So I made a request and Gold probably thought this was my 'compensation' for our relationship."

He lowers his voice so only she can hear him and she shrugs, sipping at her nearly empty glass of wine, "If that's compensation, it doesn't seem like much. You're just helping John and I out. What's in it for you?"

Robin smiles at her, his free hand reaching out and swiping a section of her brunette locks, which she had given a quick run through her curling iron and left loose for the night, behind her ear, "That's all I need, Your Majesty."

Regina isn't sure how to respond to that, isn't accustomed to meeting people, like Robin, who are selfless and righteous and just generally good people in her line of work, so she suggests they continue to explore, which he agrees to.

They traipse through the space, meeting several people including Mallory Ddraig, who will be portraying Raven. Regina likes her, so far, finds her the perfect mixture of crass and eloquent, and they immediately bond over their ensembles, her costar having the same affinity for fashion that she does.

He gives her a tour of his temporary residence and it's impressive. Fantastic views of the city from every window, two spacious bedrooms, a high quality, modern kitchen, and the living space (a combined living room, dining room, and study, all open to one another, as well as the kitchen) is even bigger than Regina had originally thought. The design doesn't match Robin, though, and she thinks he hasn't had time to unpack because she can't spot anything that she would connect to him.

Until she comes across something in the designated study.

Regina squints her eyes, stupefied, almost unbelieving the sight before her: three black, leather guitar cases against the wall. She rotates on her heel, to question Robin, just as he seems to be trying to retreat from their spot.

"Whose guitars?"

"Mine," Robin hesitantly replies, almost bashfully, his hand scratching at the back of his neck as he purposefully ignores her questioning gaze.

Well, this is new information.

He had never mentioned being musically inclined, let alone owning a small collection of guitars. And of the, purely for research purposes, Google investigations she may or may not have done, regarding him, they never revealed any clue that he played the instrument- or any, for that matter.

"He sings, too!" John jovially informs, approaching the twosome, slinging his arm around his friend's shoulder, his beer sloshing over the rim of his cup with the blunt movement.

"It's just something I do in my spare time, a method of relaxation, if you will. But, if you want, I'll play you a little something sometime."

"Why not now?" Regina boldly suggests, curiosity getting the best of her as she imagines Robin, guitar strapped and mouth caressing a microphone.

"Sounds like a brilliant idea to me! Listen to the lass, Locksley!" Killian interjects from his post beside Emma, the icy façade appearing to be fading from the blonde as she scoots more towards her accented apprentice.

Robin, on the other hand, is not as enthusiastic, shaking his head and putting his hands up, speaking directly to Regina, "I think you deserve to be serenaded more properly than what I can do, milady.

"Oh hell no!" Mallory erupts, her words slurring together in a manner that has Regina simultaneously giggling at the outburst and inwardly cringing at the prospect of the first table-read of the script, tomorrow, being tainted by a hungover actress, "You're the host, Locksley! You owe us a show."

"I would have assumed the free booze was the pinnacle of our hosting duties," Robin shoots back, has Mal shooting him a withering glare before she sinks back in her seat, coddling her glass petulantly.

Chants of "Sing! Sing! Sing!" break out in the room, Regina joining in on the chorus, as well, nudging him with a playfully pleading smile to match. Finally, Robin relents, leaning down and groaning a "Fine, just for you, Your Majesty!" then planting a kiss against her hair before hopping off his seat.

He enlists Killian (someone Regina did know had a lyrical bone, as he had headlined an all-star, charity production of Les Miserables, a couple years prior, that had garnered rave reviews- and distinct ire from Gold, she recalls), whispering something to him before both men are now testing out the guitars as they set themselves up in front of the hoard.

"Now, you'll have to bear with me," Robin begins, lightly fiddling with the strings of the acoustic instrument, "I'm a bit tipsy and I've only recently begun to tinker with this song. Be kind, won't you?"

Everyone laughs, including Robin, and Regina snickers herself, finishing off her drink as music comes alive.

Familiar music, she deduces as it reaches her ears.

"When I believed in nothing
I called her name..."

Regina isn't sure whether to laugh or cry in this moment. Lyrics of David Bowie, paired with Robin's melodic voice and nimble, strumming fingers filling the room. His eyes find hers and his teeth bite into his lower lip, that impish smile of his poking out at her. He remembers, from their first outing a few weeks ago, how she's a Bowie fan.

"Trapped in a high-dollar joint
in some place
I called her name
And though my days are slipping by
And nights so cruel
I thought I'd die
She danced her little dance
'till it made me cry
She was shakin' like this honey doing that

When I needed soul revival
I called your name
When I was falling to pieces
I screamed in pain

Your soothing hand that turned me round
A love so real
swept over me
You danced your little dance
'till it made me cry
You were shakin' like this honey doing that

Never let me down; she never let me down
Never let me down; she never let me down.."

Robin is talented, not only with his velvet-like voice, but in his acoustic arrangement of the song, the way his fingers caress the strings of his guitar, as if he and the instrument are the only ones in the room, when, in reality, he has the entire room's attention enraptured. Though, whenever he looks up, he manages to find Regina with his gaze.

When all your faith is failing, call my name
When you've got nothing coming, call my name

I'll be strong for all it takes
I'll cover your head
till the bad stuff breaks
I'll dance my little dance
till it makes you smile
Shaking like this honey doing that

Never let you down; I'll never let you down
I'll never let you down..."

Regina cannot peel her eyes away from him and, in return, Robin's stare penetrates through her, as if he is speaking directly to her as he croons the last line of the song.

"I'll never let you down."

(A/N: Firstly, I would like to apologize for not updating sooner! I absolutely adore this fic and the mind-blowing outpouring of support for it. I'm a bit of a "fic-aholic" and I have several ongoing ones that I'm trying to juggle, but I promise to keep PR a priority. Another priority, and something I would really appreciate if y'all would check out, is an AU OQ fic I'm writing with the brilliantly talented, AsYouAre, called "Stand By You" on our joint account: OperationNiclor. It's an emotional rollercoaster about life, love, loss, friendship, past, and future that is going to be a really entertaining read. :)

Second, the positive tweets that Regina was trolling through? Those are REAL fangirls. ;) PHENOMENAL gals helped me out, via Twitter, and created fake usernames and tweets to be included in this chapter. Here are their REAL usernames, in order of appearance, so you can go follow them: inlovewithlanap, oh_my_helena, gelibass, FearlessRegal, FraiseDandelion, AnOutlawQueen, Geovizna, ouater, haythamfangirl, Listhefan. HUGE thank you to those total gems.

Third, I hope you liked meeting a few of the supporting characters in this chapter, there will be more with all of them, especially Mallory/Maleficent, Lily (who'll play Lilith), and the third male costar since they were not featured as much this time. While it is definitely an OQ dominant story, I do really enjoy writing the mingling's of other characters- if you already couldn't tell by my other OQ AU which is basically an ensemble of every character I can fit. LOL.

Fourth, another ginormous dose of gratitude to the SPECTACULARLY talented, Elodie, who was generous enough to create the stunning picture to represent this fic. It was the first time an artist has made something based on/for one of my fics and I'm beyond honored that she shared her skills for this and me.

And, finally, most importantly: Thank YOU, everyone who has been reading, following, faving, reviewing, you truly have no idea how much it means to me. This may just be a fanfic, but the fact that something I've written has over 200 followers, not to mention such kindness and love I've received for it, is a pretty big deal to someone who has dreamed of writing, but was too insecure to do so, publicly. So, from the bottom of my given, not stolen heart, thank y'all so much. ;) And I hope you continue to enjoy!)