Oooooh, did I strike a nerve? Is personal space an issue? I'm sorry, I'll try harder to keep my hands to myself.

[She smirks, playfully biting the tip of her fingernail as she appraises the little chink in his armor. This could be fun, needling at the same spot until the huffy man breaks down and cries like a widdle baby.

Regal? Check. Evil? Got that covered, too. No wonder she reminds him of Regina. Her sense of style is just as impeccable.]

I'm Margo.

[Her smirk gets wider and she takes a step forward, erasing that distance Jefferson tried to put between them. With a flip of her hair, she slides her hand up his arm as if she's just appreciating the fine tailoring of his sleeve.]

I don't like putting labels on things either. [Definitely not talking about clothes.]