Or, as Jefferson could probably now refer to it as: his own private entrance. Sure, there was something probably morally fitting about his gaining access to Regina's splendid house by snaking through the gutter. That's more or less what he'd always done. Skirted glory, stood in alleys between palaces, stealing and corrupting his way into earning a living. He didn't deserve to be here, and he certainly didn't deserve to be offering her comfort.
He'd watched her mourn the loss of someone she'd loved once before. He'd played a role in a plot to drive Regina into giving up hope, and he'd done so without so much as a second thought. He'd gotten paid, Victor had gotten his heart, and that was the end of it. A young woman's shattered heart hadn't made any difference to him. It was only when he'd loved and only when he'd lost Grace himself that he knew what she might have felt.
But vengeance came before understanding, and he'd wanted Regina to feel something for what she'd done, taking his daughter away from him by stranding him in Wonderland, and again with the fate of the curse. It was only know, after all that anger had finally faded, that he really wanted to...
Reach out? Maybe?
Offer her something that he knew she needed. Coming from him, he didn't think he would ever account for much, but he had to try. So, once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more. Or in this case -- through a window and into a wine cellar.
Once inside, he was greeted by Regina's cat, for a second time. He rolled his eyes and looked down at the thing, trying to work out whether or not he liked it or hated it. Which, as a matter of fact, was what Jefferson had to decide whenever he was introduced to anything new, be it a person, animal, vegetable or mineral. He gestured at the cat, waving his hand and encouraging it to show him where the Queen was. When it headed for the stairs, Jefferson followed.