Andante, Andante

Chapter Thirteen

"Buon pomeriggio, Rosalie. Come va?" Regina sweetly greets the older woman as they stroll hand in hand through town.

Emma must be getting the hang of Italian, because this time, she doesn't have to ask what Regina is saying. She knows she said, good afternoon and asked how the older lady is. She smiles, fully proud of herself, until Rosalie opens her mouth and her smile quickly vanishes.

"Perché non trovi un buon Italian?" Rosalie questions, pinching Regina's cheek tightly. She releases the reddening area and waves her hand in the air hazardously in Emma's direction. "No medigan."

Emma's nose crinkles from hearing that word again, medigan. Every time this older woman sees her, she hears that word and has no idea what the hell it means yet. She does have an inkling though that it's not very nice.

Regina smiles politely and shakes her head at the old woman, the words elegantly rolling off her tongue and somehow, hits right where Emma desires her most. Her face flushes instantly and shame courses through her body for so easily being affected by Regina's fluent tongue. She clenches her fingers around Regina's as she waits patiently for her to finish speaking to the elderly woman.

The word, medigan, pops up a couple more times before the conversation is complete and Rosalie kisses both sides of Regina's face with affection beating in her eyes. The older woman nods toward Emma curtly and not at all kindly before she quickly shuffles away.

"Alright, what the hell does medigan, mean? Every time she's around that word seems to reach its quota for the day," she deadpans inspiring Regina to laugh that adorable carefree chuckle that she's so in love with.

The brunette leans into her personal space and lightly pecks her cheek. "You're quite adorable when you are frustrated," she comments before pulling away. She tugs on her hand and proceeds to guide her through the town. "Medigan, means not Italian," Regina educates her.

"What? Not Italian? How does she know? I mean obviously I'm from America, but my family could be from Italian descent," she weakly defends as Regina watches her with pure amusement in those rich eyes.

The sun is shining brightly against her cocoa irises, highlighting them to appear that beautiful honey color she adores a little too much. Those eyes also seem to be laughing at her instead of her mouth at the moment.

"Well, is your family Italian?" Regina innocently questions, but Emma's sure she already knows the answer.

"No," she drawls, rolling her eyes, prompting the beautiful creature beside her to laugh once again.

"I didn't think so."

"But still...that's rude. I know the only reason she doesn't like me is because I'm not Italian," she argues while Regina sweeps her thumb over the back of her own thumb for comfort.

"Italian's are very proud of their heritage and Sicilian's are even prouder when it comes to their culture. Some people even become offended if you ever insinuate that Italians and Sicilians are the same. Don't take offense, Rosalie is just old and set in her ways," Regina kindly explains to help ease her apprehension about the comment.

"That's what your mother said about her."

"That's because it's true," Regina hums and nudges playfully into her side to knock the chip right off her shoulder.

"I can only imagine how she feels about us walking hand in hand through her town," she teases while clenching the soft hand molded perfectly in her own, a little tighter.

"Surprisingly, that doesn't bother her," Regina chuckles and wraps her free arm around their joined arms. She rests her head against a strong shoulder and Emma can hear her lips cracking into a wide grin. "She just wants to see me with an Italian."