"Good morning, Ms. White." A sheepish smile escapes the tall woman as she enters the business office, a small pot in her hands with brightly-bloomed flowers inside. She stays close to the door, as if she's afraid to impose, and simply motions to the pot. "These are for you."
   âVivianâŚ?âÂ
   This isnât a face Snow sees often. Actually, she canât even recall the last time sheâs seen Vivian. At the Pudding and Pie, probably. When Ichabod was âbusted,â and that hadnât exactly been an opportunity for âhelloâs and âhow are youâs.â    A lot has happened since then, and of course, none of it had been pleasant. Especially for Vivian-- Though that goes unspoken. Snow just canât help but wonder why sheâs here. Even before the whole Crooked ordeal, the woman never came around too often.Â
   With a manicured, gaunt hand, the Deputy Mayor gestures to the chair that sits empty before her desk.Â
   âWhat can I do for you?â
