Roni

Chapter Two

"I'm sorry, you're Roni?" Emma sputters, thankful she doesn't have a drink just yet because it would have ended up all over this Regina, or what used to be Regina.

"Well I sure hope so, otherwise naming this bar Roni, was a big mistake," she sasses right back as she pours herself a shot.

Regina winks playfully at Emma just before she slams back the shot with expertise. Emma sits there, opposite of the new Regina, completely perplexed and at a loss for words. Regina, Mayor Mills, would die, Emma's guaranteeing a heart attack, passed out cold on this floor if the former queen saw what she is wearing right now and how she is acting.

Tight blue skinny jeans, a ratty old band t-shirt with a jean jacket over. As Regina would put it, way too much costume jewelry. Not to mention her hair, oh my god- Emma thinks, her hair isn't in perfect order. It's wavy, loose...its wild. It is taking everything in Emma right now, not to burst out into laughter.

"So you own this place and you're doing shots...in the middle of the day...while working..." Emma slowly points out.

"Hey! My bar, my rules," Roni playfully retorts before she slams back another shot. "Now, what can I getcha?"

That's the second time she said "getcha". SHE. WOULD. DIE!

"Umm, what do you recommend?" Emma plays it cool, calmly strumming her nails against the wooden bar top.

"You seem like the beer type," the bartender speculates, allowing her words to dangle in the air for just a moment before Emma nods in agreement.

"Yeah but today, for the sake of this conversation..." the nervous blonde trails off before she accidentally says too much, like her big mouth always seems to do without her consent. Then something whispers in the back of her mind. "Got anything stronger?"

A slow mischievous grin creeps across the brunette's face. It was almost an infamous Regina, evil smirk, almost.

Roni reaches for a bottle under the counter and lines up another shot glass directly in front of her customer. Her hand is holding the bottle rather high, allowing the liquid to pour down in a steady stream like a waterfall.

"Here."

"Is it rum?" Emma questions, her nose scrunching up as she flicks the glass filled to the top with a dark liquor.

"No," she snaps sounding personally offended. "I don't do rum!" A small chuckle escapes Emma's lips, but she manages to keep her cool. "Whiskey," the other woman casually states, while the blonde's face morphs into pure disgust, her head shooting up to meet a rich chocolatey gaze.

"I meant strong apple cider," the words tumble out of Emma's mouth, before her brain ever register the statement.

Ashamed and embarrassed from her word vomit, Emma bows her head down to hide the pink tint tingling at her cheeks. However, Roni doesn't seem to catch on the slip up and just barks out a carefree laugh, forcing green eyes to peer up again at the strange version of Regina.

"God no!" She pours herself yet another shot and stretches it high up into the air, "bottom's up blondie."

Emma quickly snatches her glass and taps it against Roni's. Both women slam down the awful whiskey and wince as it burns a fiery path down their throats.

Roni moves swiftly, collecting both dirty glasses between her fingertips and wipes down the counter in all at once. She deposits the glasses under the counter, in what Emma can assume is a sink, then slides in fluid motion behind the bar to open a rather tiny door. The bartender pulls out a bottle and proceeds to kick the door closed with her small boot...small leopard print boot.