Long And Short of It, Wine and Cheese Night Part One · 4:18am Mar 29th, 2022

>Unfortunately your conversation with Blueblood did not peter out after that.
>He wanted to know ALL about what you’ve been up to.
>Seems that Celestia gave him the impression that you’re a noblestallion yourself, albeit from a far away land.
>Another prank you suppose.
>That’s probably why he wanted to hang out with you so badly when you first arrived.
>No reason to correct him now, you guess.
>”Oh, it must be so jarring to live amongst the gentry now. I can’t believe Auntie didn’t set aside a fiefdom for you!”
>The two of you are currently lounging on some of the couches, waiting for the other guests to arrive.
>You wanted to get into the wine already, but Blueblood annoyingly /insisted/ you wait.
“It's fine, really.”
>He shudders at your words.
>”I can’t imagine what it must have been like to grow... /accustomed/ to that life.”
>Jesus, this guy really is a living stereotype.
>Thank God you know who he’s dating, otherwise you’d be terrified that you’d soon see a horse Habsburg with your very own eyes.
“Says the guy who’s also dating a guardsmare.”
>”Oh pish posh,” he says, “it's only natural that one becomes /intimately/ familiar with the one guarding his life.”
>Hold on, was that an innuendo?
>You didn’t think he had it in him!
>What’s even more shocking is that for the briefest of moments, gone is the pompous prince, and in his place is the spitting image of a human teenage girl.
>”Besides, she really /gets/ me. You know?”
>You’re tempted to laugh at the stereotype but honestly... you DO know what he means.
>If you had a glass, you’d toast it.
“Amen to that, brother.”
>”...Amen?”
>Thankfully, before you were forced to explain what ‘amen’ means, a knock on the door interrupted your conversation.
>Finally! Goddamn did he tell you to show up an hour early or something?
>In a shocking show of speed, Blueblood’s already on his hooves and at the door.
>You sit up in attention yourself, curious to see the first of whatever menagerie he invited.
>And as Blueblood pulls the door open, you’re greeted with the sight of a white coat with a familiar blue ‘stash and stuffed looking saddlebag.
>”Fancy!”
>The mustachioed unicorn strides into the room, and man does he look peeved off.
>>”Well, Blueblood, I made it. Despite your directions.”
>”Oh come now! This week’s wasn’t /that/ hard.”
>>>”For you, maybe,” a new voice chimes in.
>Following Fancy in is a new unicorn you don’t recognize.
>He’s pretty plain as far as ponies go, with a tan coat and a swept back blond mane.
>He’s got a pretty snazzy looking suit coat on though!
>>>”After all, you’re the only one here with a compass rose cutie mark,” the new guy observes.
>Hm, seems like you weren’t the only one who received a wonky invitation.
>Blueblood looks back at his own rump, like he’s surprised his own cutie mark is there.
>”Hm, I suppose I hadn’t considered that.”
>Nearly as soon as they appeared, the minuscule traces of doubt in Blueblood’s face disappeared.
>”Ah well, you two arrived just fine, if a bit late! And Anonymous seemed to have no trouble at all with this week’s riddle-map!”
>A riddle-map? Jeez, no wonder they sounded so annoyed.
>But wait, why’s Blueblood talking like you got one of them too?
>Seemingly trying to answer your silent question, you catch him giving you a sly little wink.
>Ah, he must be trying to get you to cover for him and save some face.
>Hmm, now here’s a conundrum.
>Leave Blueblood high and dry, or mess with Fancy Pants and the new guy?
>Well, two ponies messed with is better than one...
“Yeah, it wasn’t that hard.”
>Both Fancy and the new guy evidently hadn’t noticed you and were caught off guard by your interjection.
>But with wildly different reactions!
>>”Anonymous, my colt!” Fancy bellows, “I feared I’d never see you around these parts again!”
>>>”Wait, that’s Anonymous!?”
>Fancy shrugs at his friend.
>>”I tried to tell you not to take the bet, Golden.”
>The pony, who you suppose is Golden, wastes no time galloping over to you.
>Stopping on a dime, he runs his gaze up and down your body, taking in your every detail and making you feel more than a little uncomfortable.
>>>”Hmmm, he certainly dresses the part...” he mutters.
>You self-consciously adjust your newsie cap with your magic, trying to draw the pony’s attention to it and hopefully end this uncomfortable moment.
>>>””Hmmm.”
>Finally getting the hint that you’re the real deal, he stands up straight and offers his hoof.
>>>”My name is Golden Gavel, and do you swear on your noble house you are Anonymous of the Canterlot Canterer?”
>Man, this dude must /really/ not want to lose this bet.
>You bump his hoof, albeit a little uneasily.
>His words are another reminder of what you’re putting on the line here.
>These ponies really think you’re one of them!
>“Um, yeah.”
>He lets out a heaving sigh as his face falls, and he slumps forward with resignation.
>>>”Drat.”
>As he turns back towards Blueblood, you catch sight of something shuffling around in his suit pocket as he lights his horn.
>>>”Take it!” He shouts, whipping some across the room toward the Prince.
>Blueblood, surprisingly, catches the object with ease, stopping the projectile dead in his golden magic.
>It's a little case of makeup, his reward.
>>>”It's last season’s shade anyway.”
>Wow, /that’s/ the level of banter these guys have?
>That’s pretty pathetic.
>Although not as pathetic as the fact it makes Blueblood start moaning and groaning like a kid that just got told Santa wasn’t real.
>You can practically hear Pike’s voice in your ear scornfully saying, “/Stallions/.”
>Desperately hoping for something to look at besides the sordid scene, by chance, your eyes fall on the door just as someone new walks in.
>An Earth pony of all ponies, no less!
>An Earth pony you think you vaguely recognize from the Marg Monday you went to so long ago.
>Gray coat, bluish silver mane, golden laurel cutie mark...
>Yeah, you’ve definitely seen this guy before. Count something, you think.
>”Ah, Caesar! Good to see you,” Blueblood greets him.
>It's a good thing Blueblood didn’t let you into the wine after all, you have just spit it all over yourself.
>He’s Count /Caesar/.
>Honestly, how the hell did you forget a name like that?
>Golden immediately leaves your side to go greet the stallion himself, and it occurs to you that if you want to pass as some high society putz, you should probably start acting like.
>So, without further ado, you hop off the couch and make your way over to the gathered stallions.
>Caesar sees your approach, and surprisingly sends a friendly smile your way.
>>>>”Ah, Anonymous,” he says, extending his hoof, “I always knew you’d come around eventually.”
>He did?
>Deciding against jumping down whatever rabbit hole that comment entails, you simply return his hoof bump.
“Good to see you again Caesar...”
>As your hoof makes contact, you hesitate for the briefest of moments.
>Are you about to risk looking like a weirdo for a joke that’ll only make you laugh?
>Yeah, you are.
“...a shame, what happened to Julius.”
>Much to your shock, Caesar does not ask who you’re talking about.
>Instead, he just sadly shakes his head.
>>>>”Indeed. Nobody anticipated that the senate would react that poorly, but I suppose you cannot win them all.”
>It takes every ounce of willpower you’ve got not to cry out in alarm.
>It's okay, Anon, it's just like the painting. Don’t think about it too hard.
>Just accept it and move on.
>>”Seems like that’s just about everypony,” Fancy interjects to Blueblood. “Shall we get started my friend?”
>”Preposterous!” Blueblood cries. “We’re still missing one!”
>>>”Yes, one who probably won’t arrive for another hour if last time was any indication,” moans Golden.
>Blueblood’s face scrunches in annoyance in a way that’s becoming increasingly familiar to you.
>”Oh fine! He won’t mind if we open a bottle or two. Come!”

>In hindsight, it was now obvious why Blueblood insisted on waiting to open the wine.
>He’d only said he’d open “a bottle or two” but as soon as he downed that first glass it became obvious there was no stopping what had been started.
>It's been only half an hour but almost every bottle had been opened by this point.
>You thought the whole point of these was to try a little of each wine, but the guys keep filling the glasses like they’re trying to get sloshed.
>And the peer pressure is HIGH!
>Mares openly trying to get you drunk have been less pushy.
>”Anonymous, dear colt! You simply must try this Frausberg with the Marelot!” is your only warning before Blueblood shoves a new glass and a piece of cheese in your face,
>Thankfully, Golden immediately intercedes on your behalf and magically pushes the foodstuffs away.
>>>”Let the stallion breathe, Blue, he hasn’t even finished the glass he’s got!”
>Blueblood’s eyes flick to the partially-full glass you’ve already got floating in your hand before he sighs.
>”If I must.”
>You shoot Golden a thankful look.
>After all, the more you drink, the more likely you are to say something stupid.
>Better to take it nice and slow while you observe.
>>>>”Say, Anonymous,” Caesar draws your attention to him, “Your coat has quite the sheen to it. What’s your coat care routine?”
>That’s an unexpected thing to ask out the gate.
“Just Dr. Alkaline’s Castile Soap. Why?”
>>”No no no, old colt,” Fancy cuts in, “He means your entire routine!”
>Oh. Uh oh.
>You didn’t think about that.
>How are you going to tell these guys you use an 18-in-1 soap created by a stallion that believes the worship of the sun can make you immune to the tricks of changelings?
>It's not like you know the names of any other products to bullshit with!
>Wait! You just had an idea.
>Hope this works...
“W-Well, I’m not really comfortable giving away /all/ my handsom-y secrets. Especially since I don’t know any of yours!”
>You let the statement hang for a moment, searching the faces of the gathered stallions.
>As the silence slowly becomes more and more awkward, you send up a silent prayer that your shot in the dark was correct.
>Thankfully, your prayers are answered as the sweet sound of acquiescence hits your ears.
>>”I suppose that’s only fair.”
>>>”I’m certainly loath to give up some of my best kept secrets.”
>Phew, bullet dodged.
>Now you’d better come up with a new conversation path, fast.
>”Alright alright,” Blueblood ends the murmuring, “I’ll share first, then.”
>Wait, what? No!
>The white stallion clears his throat, and sits up a little straighter, like he’s about to give a speech.
>You didn’t think they’d start monologuing about what they do!
>This isn’t what you wanted!
>”Well, to start, in the morning I’ll put on an ice pack if my face is a little puffy.”
>His statement makes you curiously prod your face with your hoof.
>How can he even tell under all the fur?
>”After I remove the ice pack, I quickly apply a deep-pore cleanser lotion. Then, once that’s absorbed, I get in the shower and use both a water-activated gel cleanser and a honey-almond coat scrub.”
>Okay, seems a little excessive, but—
>”For my face, I break out my favorite exfoliating gel-scrub. Oh, and for my mane and tail I use a tea tree oil extract shampoo, followed by one of the finest Prench conditioners!”
>>>”Oh!” Caesar interrupts. “Do you still use that herbal mask you were telling us about last time?”
>For once, Blueblood doesn’t look pissed about being interrupted.
>”I do, actually. It's an herbal mint facial masque. I put it on the moment I get out of the shower. I definitely recommend it.”
>Without missing a beat, the Prince immediately slides back into his monologue.
>”After rinsing that off, I shave any unsightly whiskers and dab on a splash of aftershave. Without alcohol of course.”
>Your confusion at his need to clarify that must have been written on your face, because Golden leans into your ear and whispers, “Alcohol dries out your skin and coat. Makes you look older.”
>”Then on goes my moisturizer, an anti-aging eye balm, and last but not least, a final moisturizing protective lotion!”
>”Then voilà!” He finishes with a smile and a flourish, “I’m ready to start my day!”
>Almost immediately the gathered stallions all start clopping their hooves together.
>>>”I never get tired of hearing that,” says Golden.
>>”My colt, such dedication is what all true stallions strive for,” adds Fancy.
>You, meanwhile, are stunned.
>You feel like you’ve once again fallen into a brand new universe.
>What is wrong with these guys!?
>>>”Shall I go next?” Golden cries excitedly.
>You want to cry out for them to take a recess, you’re still thrown for a loop!
>You can’t take another, not now!
>”By all means.”
>No, please NO!
>>>”Well, mine’s admittedly modeled after Blue’s. Except, a key difference is I don't use an ice pack at the start. You see, those odd, fluffy, Earth ponies in the North have been exporting this thing called ‘liquid nitrogen’...”

>You feel broken.
>The insane assault of the elaborate beauty routines these stallions go through every morning has mentally broken you.
>You didn’t even know there were that many ways to moisturize!
>That spa day kit really undersold what the average stallion does to himself.
>>>>”Impressive, very nice.” Caesar says to the recently finished Fancy, “Let’s hear Anonymous’ routine.”
>Your mind spins for a few moments, but the gears are too worn down to produce anything worthwhile.
>You don’t even have it in you to lie now.
“I just use Dr. Alkaline’s 18-in-1 Peppermint Castile Soap.”
>The stallions all share a worried look.
>>>”You, uh, already mentioned that.”
>You shrug.
“Cause that’s all I use.”
>>”For /everything/?” Fancy asks, clearly disturbed.
“Everything.”
>Now you’ve managed to stun the stallions into silence.
>Almost all their faces frozen in shock, the only sound in the room is the sound of Blueblood taking a sip from his wine glass.
>Which he immediately proceeds to spit back out.
>”BY MY LESSOR AUNT’S MILLENNIA OLD UNTRIMMED LEGBEARD!”
>With that, the dam is broken, and the wailing begins.
>>”I simply can’t imagine using the /same/ product for both my coat and mane!”
>>>”How has all your fur not fallen out!?”
>You suppose this is to be expected.
>Oh well, if this is how it all falls apart then this is how it all falls apart.
>Although, just as you’re about to give up hope, you notice one of the stallions isn’t freaking out.
>The one who originally asked you the question, Caesar.
>Instead, he’s intently leaned towards you.
>>>>”How can one product manage to do 18 things at once?” he asks.
“Well, you don’t just use the concentrated soap,” you weakly answer. “You mix it with stuff you’d find in your kitchen.”
>You slowly start to tune out the sound of wailing stallions in favor of the one pony actually interested in what you’re saying.
>>>>”Like what?”
“Well, apple cider vinegar makes it into a great shampoo. Coconut butter makes it an excellent conditioner. Diluting it makes it a pretty great coatwash. Oh, and baking soda makes it into a decent toothpaste.”
>>>”You can really do all that with it?”
>The sudden interruption makes you nearly jump out of your seat.
>It seems that you’ve somehow managed to re-entice all the previously horrified stallions.
>Blueblood, Fancy, and Golden, who were previously all but rolling around on the floor in agony, now mirror Caesar.
>Leaning in, intensely focusing on what you’re saying.
>Feeling somehow even more put on the spot, your answer comes out shaky.
“Well, uh, yeah. You can even use this as a makeup remover too. It's way better than that Original Oakley A’s crap. That stuff’s basically just cheap coatwash.”
>”That’s amazing!” Blueblood shouts, “You sound like one of the stalchemists of old!”
>Did... did he seriously just portmanteau ‘stallion’ and ‘alchemist’ to make ‘stalchemist’?
>>”Like the old stories of Starswirl in his lab!” Fancy adds.
>Jesus Christ. He fucking did, didn’t he?
>The sheer indignation you feel at such a disgusting phrase puts the wind back under your metaphorical wings.
“Still too /scary/ for you?”
>Blueblood huffs and puffs as stallions do.
>”I think I can speak for ALL of us when I say you had us a little worried at first. But, it sounds like a quality product. This, Dr. Alkaline, must know what he’s doing.”
>Your mind’s eye drifts back to the wall of text that is the soap’s label.
>Yeah, the dude either knows exactly what he’s doing or is completely insane.
>Feeling a little cocky, you turn up the snide.
“Maybe you should give it a try? It's nice to not need to buy /45/ different things.”
>Blue scoffs at you.
>”Ha! Preposterous. I simply couldn’t live without my herbal mask.”
“You only started using it recently, right? Seems like you were getting along just fine before it.”
>He starts blushing furiously as the gathered stallions all burst into laughter.
>Puts a feeling in your heart you haven’t felt for quite some time.
>The warm feeling of a group of guys, laughing their asses off at what you said.
>”I just didn’t know what I was missing, is all!”

>You are the unflappable Count Caesar, and you’d say you’re about an hour into the wine and cheese ‘hour’, and it shows no signs of stopping.
>But that’s no surprise.
>The idea of a wine and cheese hour was always just a formality, an excuse.
>Fittingly then, at this point the facade has more or less been completely discarded.
>The stallions have all abandoned the idea of tasting wines and cheeses, and have instead opted toward simply drinking from the bottles.
>All except for you of course.
>A proper stallion must be measured in all things, especially his drinking.
>You’ll forgive your friends for falling short of that lofty ideal though.
>Especially Mr. Anonymous, who’s currently engaged in quite the titillating conversation!
>”Say, Blue, how’s it feel to be a part of unshorn gang?”
>Blueblood, understandably, looks at the stallion with abject confusion.
>>”Unshorn? Oh! You mean my fetlocks?”
>Anonymous nods enthusiastically.
>In response, Blueblood looks down at his hoof, as if he hadn’t considered anyone would notice.
>You take the moment to briefly check on yours as well.
>As expected, your gray hooves are as finely shorn as ever.
>Prim and proper, a far cry from those two shaggy miscreants.
>>”I’m not sure. Rook certainly seems to like them, but I’ve nearly knocked myself out tripping over them!”
>Anonymous grimaces and sucks in his breath through his teeth.
>”Yeeeeeeeeeeah. But it sure does drive the gals wild. I’ve been growing them out since the tournament and they seem to really dig that rugged look.”
>Anon, seemingly at nothing, suddenly barks out a laugh.
>”Ha! Hey wait a minute, if they like the look of a working stallion so much, why do they hate it so much when we get a job?”
>Both stallions fall into hysterics at your revelation, and you chuckle yourself, before a tap on your withers calls your attention.
>Turning toward the culprit, you ask, “What is it, Golden?”
>Your old friend gives you a jolly smile.
>>>”You did good keeping your cool back there.”
>Ah, he must mean when Anonymous started talking about his soap.
“Just because I was as shocked as all of you doesn’t mean I needed to express it. Honestly, you all could learn a thing or two about being more discreet.”
>In a rare sign of humility, Golden cannot meet your gaze.
>>>”Yeah, I guess you’ve got us on that one.”
>Clearly eager to shift the subject he points to a still laughing Anonymous.
>>>”But, seriously, look how much he’s loosened up since. Before he was hardly drinking at all! I think it's safe to say you being in his corner saved his evening.”
>Hm, you honestly hadn’t noticed.
>But that’s what makes you and Golden such a good team.
“Perhaps we’ll be able to get some gossip out of him now.”
>Golden smiles, positively deviously.
>>>”That’s my stallion!”

“And that’s why I’m thinking of trimming them down again. It's just, so uncomfortable to have long fetlocks in socks, ya know?”
>You are Anonymous the Unicorn and things are going great!
>You’re feelin' good, got a little wine in you, and these guys haven’t asked you about work once!
>”By my Aunt!” Blueblood cried, “Long fetlocks IN socks!? Have a little self-respect, stallion!”
“Are you kidding?! Listen, Blue, any “shame” I’d feel from “”””debasing”””” myself like that, is nothing compared to what I can get Pike and Cut to do so they can see me like that.”
>The Prince looks utterly stupefied.
>”I never thought about it that way...”
>You feel a pony take a seat next to you on the couch, and your bet is its Fancy, returning from the restroom.
>>”My, my, did I hear that right? Mr. Independent went and got himself a herd?” comes Fancy’s cheeky voice.
>You shift your posture so you can address either stallion equally, unintentionally leaving you sitting like a human.
>You’re pretty sure he’s joking, so you don’t lay on the indignation. Yet.
“Heeeey, what’s that supposed to mean?”
>Fancy chuckles into his hoof, confirming your suspicions.
>>”Nothing, nothing. It's just that last time we met, you gave off the impression you were the kind of stallion who’d prefer to play the eternal bachelor.”
>Hmm, you guess to an outsider you do seem to fit the stereotypical strong independent stereotype to a T.
>You know, you and the gals could probably make a pretty good bit out of that...
“I just hadn’t really found the right mares yet,” you respond with a shrug.
>The sound of laughter heralds Golden and Caesar moving to a couch closer to you, and joining the conversation.
>>>”Oh I know some guys who’d /hate/ you for saying that!”
>You’re about to question why, when suddenly several mostly suppressed memories of Jargon rise to the surface.
>Memories of her repeatedly saying something about how you’d quit your job once you found the right mares to settle down with.
“Oooh, uh, yeah. Poor choice of words.”
>That just makes Golden laugh harder.
>>>>Caesar himself chuckles before asking, “On the topic of your refusal to settle down, how’s being one of the most influential writers in Canterlot?”
>What? Bologna.
>Was that some sad attempt at buttering you up?
>With a peeved hoof pointed at Golden, your reply is pretty indignant.
“How exactly does that work when someo-pony, /in this room/ didn’t even know who I was?”
>If Caesar was fazed by your jab though, not an inch of it shows on his face.
>>>>”Debates about your identity not-withstanding, nopony can deny your influence.”
>>>”He’s right,” Golden chimes in, “I may have been wrong about who you were, but I’ve still been an avid reader!”
>>”At this rate, most stallions in Canterlot are, I’d wager,” Fancy finishes.
>With every statement you felt yourself sinking further and further into the couch.
>Jesus, no pressure you guess.
>This must be what it feels like to be Cut.
>To make matters worse, you can tell where this line of conversation is going.
>>”And that’s why,” Fancy continues, “I’d like you to have a look at these.”
>He turns around to look over the back of the couch, and the familiar sound of TK activating preludes the sound of shuffling saddlebags.
>Oh God, he’s gonna ask your /opinion/ on something!
>Shit!
>Based on some unspoken understanding, Blueblood wastes no time clearing a spot on the table, pushing aside everything from plates, to glasses, to bottles.
>Everyone at the table is positively giddy with excitement as Fancy waits for Blueblood to finish, giggling like highschool girls.
>Not wanting to stand out, you smile and hope it doesn’t look as forced as it feels.
>Eventually Fancy decides the space cleared is large enough, and his saddlebags drift over the couch and settle on the table.
>Looking at the gathered ponies, and grinning ear to ear, he addresses them with gravitas unfitting for a room of five guys.
>>”What I have brought today is something very special. Working prototypes for TWO of my upcoming Spring line!”
>An auspicious murmur rises up amongst the stallions, and for once you genuinely participate.
>Fancy’s fashions are kind of a big deal, especially if those rumors about him collaborating with one of the Elements of Harmony are real.
>This is almost too good to be true!
>>>”So /that’s/ what you were hiding in those saddlebags! Can we try them on!?” Golden practically shouts in excitement.
>Fancy grimaces in a way that reminds you of a Mom telling her daughter she cannot in fact have a pony for Christmas.
>>”Well, you /could/. They would just hardly fit.”
>>>>”Why not?” Caesar asks as everyone exchanges confused looks, “We’re of standard build. Well, except Anonymous.”
>>”That’s just it, Anonymous is the only one who they’ll fit!”
>You feel like your eyes are about to bug out of your skull.
>There is no fucking way this dude’s about to ask you to try that shit on.
>>>”How did /that/ happen?” Golden asks with what you feel is an appropriate amount of disbelief.
>Fancy unbuckles the straps of his saddlebags and starts sliding the garments out as he gives one of the deepest sighs you’ve ever heard.
>>”Ah, it was this whole mess. Rarity—”
>You catch Blueblood’s groan at the mention of Rarity, but it seems the others either didn’t hear it or didn’t visibly care.
>>”—was commissioned to make something for some big lad in Ponyville, and somehow his measurements got mixed up with measurements for our prototypes!”
>By now he’s fully slid the first outfit out of the bags, and it certainly looks like there’s a whole lot of outfit there.
>It really is probably around your size.
>>”Unfortunately neither of us realized this until most of the fabric had already been cut. By then she decided we should try and finish these projects that none of my mannequins would fit, ‘for the challenge’.”
>He sets the outfit in front of you while he goes to unpack the other one.
>Seems this one has a leafy, floral theme.
>>”And I’m sure you all know how mares can get when they feel like they’ve got something to prove,” he adds with an eye roll.
>You’d probably have mumbled something in agreement if every neuron in your brain wasn’t currently occupied trying to come up with a convincing excuse to not do this.
>”*Cough*I told you so *cough*,” interjects Blueblood.
>You’re allergic to every kind of fabric known to ponykind? No, that's way too obvious.
>You’re so in your own head that you hardly notice Fancy scornfully scoffing back at Blue.
>>”Blue, you need to end this foalish feud already. Ms. Rarity is a wonderful mare!”
>You don’t feel comfortable being the only one so dressed up? No, if the whole soap debacle was any indication, they’d just take the chance to dress up in their own stuff.
>Fancy’s got the second outfit unpacked by now.
>Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a lot of colors on sky blue and, strangely, a lot less clothing to it than the previous ensemble.
>”Bah! I’ve met mares like her dozens of times! The only reason she approached me was for my princeliness. She probably just wanted me to /stud/!”
>>”Oh come, now you’re just being irrational. That’s been taboo since before we were born!”
>Shit, if only ponies had cell phones, you could just call Pike to come and get you!
>Actually, the trade off of giving ponies cell phones probably isn’t worth it.
>*SLAM! SLAM! SLAM!*
>The loud sound demolishes both your train of thought and the stallions’ argument.
>Confusion present on every face, everyone tries to shake off the shock and start blearily looking around for the source.
>*SLAM! SLAM!*
>Goddamn, it sounds like someone’s trying to tear one of the windows off its hinges.
>*SLAM! SLAM!*
>It /really/ sounds like that, actually.
>Which makes this your perfect chance to totally detail what Fancy was trying to do!
>You’ve only got one shot, time to make it count!
>Feeling the power of Tricky Dick flowing through you, you shout.
“Sounds like someone’s breaking in!”