If this ‘vacation’ really was about Pinkie and Fine getting to know one another better, then Fine thought it was off to a bad start. The train ride took the entire day away, leading them further and further southeast, and the two of them barely said two words to one another. Pinkie had become like stone, barely moving beyond the rocking of the car and staring at nothing. Every now and then she’d move her lips, but whatever she was mumbling didn’t reach his ears. He’d wanted to talk, had tried to start a conversation several times, but he could never get the words out.
Fine could freely admit that he was afraid. What he didn’t understand was exactly what he was afraid of. It eluded his thoughts, a nebulous foe with greater hiding skill than even him. Failure? Impossible. He wasn’t trying to defeat a foe or win a competition, he just wanted to understand Pinkie more. Perhaps it was this ongoing quiet between them that was at the core of it. Wasn’t now the time to talk about things? But he didn’t want to press her, that might push her away.
He wished he’d told Octavia about this journey, or Nye, or Applejack. Even Twilight would have been better than keeping it to himself. He’d never been so desperate for a little advice. Pinkie meant something to him, though he wasn’t sure what, and if he didn’t do this right he’d never know. He needed to know. He’d hurt her so much. Making up for it demanded that he know.
“You’re looking at the scars, aren’t you?”
His ears perked as he focused on her face, but she wasn’t looking at him. She had definitely spoken. At last! Despite the temptation to note that he couldn’t see the scars, he stopped himself. It was true he hadn’t realized what he was looking at, but his intimate knowledge of those scars meant knew what to look for. And now that he paid attention… yes, he had been looking right at them.
“Sorry.”
She shook her head, her face obscured behind her long, straight mane. If she was smiling, he couldn’t tell. “Don’t be. They’re yours.”
He barely kept from grimacing. Did she have any idea how much that fact made his insides coil? The desire to apologize came again. He resisted that, too. Not knowing what to say next, he glanced out the window. Dense coniferous forest passed by his window atop shallow, rolling hills. A gentle rain pattered against the glass, barely audible over the clacking tracks. He thought about how long they’d been riding and the scenery before him. “We should be almost there.”
“We are.” She shivered, though it wasn’t cold. “I can tell.”
Not two seconds later, Fine felt the momentum of the train shift, rocking him forward. The speakers over their heads gave a slight chime before an announcer declared that they’d be stopping at Rockstead within the next five minutes. Fine smiled at Pinkie. “Not bad.”
To this, she said nothing. She wouldn’t look at him or the window. “I haven’t been here in a very long time.” She raised her head, a touch of her usual cheer coming back. Just a touch. “I wonder if anypony will remember me.”
“I’m sure they will,” Fine said as he stood up and stretched in the space between the benches. “You’re a memorable pony.”
She let out a little hum before getting up to put her luggage saddle back on. “I’m not sure if that’s good or bad.”
“We’ll assume it’s good,” he said, trying to be encouraging. Visiting hometowns should be a nostalgic thing. He’d always felt that way when visiting Las Pegasus. Not that he did that much nowadays. There wasn’t much of a Las Pegasus left. The thought brought a fresh pain to his chest, and Fine thought of his father. He’d not done that in a while, either.
Blue eyes examined him above a concerned frown. Pinkie held her mane back with a hoof and asked, “You okay?”
Wasn’t he supposed to be asking her that? “I’m fine. Just thinking about my father.”
There was the slightest shift in her eyes, a grain of fear that he didn’t understand. It was gone as quick as it came, though, and he elected to not ask about it. It didn’t seem like the appropriate time.
The train came to a stop, and Fine looked out the window. They were at a station made half of dark grey stones and half of wood lacquered a golden brown. “Looks like this is our stop. Are you ready?”
“Nope.” She sucked in a deep breath, then exhaled. By the time all the air had left her lungs she’d regained her poofy mane and tail and was grinning. “I’ll meet you outside, lickety-split!” A blink later and she was gone, the door sliding closed in her wake. Fine stared at the exit, a feeling of frustration coming over him. More than anything, he wanted to understand that mask of hers.
There was no sense lingering. He put on his own saddle and ignited his horn in the familiar spell, which soon saw him teleported to an open spot he’d witnessed between the station and the forest. He could have simply appeared on the platform, but that would have caused too much of a stir. Besides, he’d never purchased a ticket, and getting accosted by an Equestrian Rail Authority agent would have been more trouble than it was worth.
He stepped around the corner and onto the platform. By the time he reached the open hall leading out of the station he’d already examined each of the locals’ faces, picked out the potential threats, identified the best exits for a non-magical escape, and even made a mental note to inform Fleur that a certain pony of Archon interest had been spotted at the Rockstead Station.
He then slapped himself on the cheek. Not hard, but enough to jar him out of his traditional senses. He was here for Pinkie. He had no need to over-analyze everything he saw while in Rockstead.
Speaking of Pinkie, she came bounding up, hopping along and smiling as if she were having the greatest day ever. “Hey, Fine! Welcome to Rockstead, my oldest and firstest home. Wanna go on a tour before we check into the hotel?”
A glance over the trees to the west revealed that they still had another hour or two before sunset. Well, he had come here to learn more about Pinkie, had he not? “Sure, I’d love to.”
“Okie dokie lokie! Right this way.” She walked slightly ahead of him, moving at an easy pace that puzzled him. Was she eager to be here, or not? He knew Pinkie was skilled at maintaining her cheerful mask, but he’d have thought that there’d be some reveal already. Then again, they’d not even been here for two minutes. Maybe his thinking was too fast.
The train station took up the entirety of a small valley between two tall, forested hills. This meant it prevented any view of the town from the tracks. As such, Fine was treated to a pleasant surprise when they walked out of the station’s entrance and he found himself on the main road through town. The path was made of the same dark grey stone as was used in the construction of the station. It wasn’t just limited to that, though; many of the nearby buildings were at least partially built with the material.
Noticing where he was looking, Pinkie spoke up. “It’s basalt! Rockstead mines a lot of it. It’s their biggest export.”
Ah, that explained its commonality. He took a closer look at the surrounding buildings, mostly consisting of special services like smithing, furniture building, farriers, and so on. He guessed the train was located in Rockstead’s industrial district. A place as small as this would likely have just one station, so the mines probably weren’t far from here, either.
“This is kinda-sorta Rockstead’s busy pony zone. You know, industrial district.” Pinkie’s head whipped round, sending her mane slapping against her cheeks as she took in every inch of the sights. “Wow, it’s a lot busier than I remember.” An accurate statement, as the street was fairly crowded with ponies going about their business as patrons of the local businesses. There were enough present that Fine and Pinkie had to sidestep around a number of ponies.
And not just ponies. Diamond Dogs made up a good portion of the population, at least a quarter. Though he already knew the answer, he felt a need to keep Pinkie talking. He… wasn’t sure why. “Do the dogs work in the mines?”
“Yepperooni.” Pinkie nodded frantically. “They can dig better than any pony or machine, and they get paid in gems, which are themselves bought from the rock farms. Everypony and everypup wins.”
He hummed, casting a curious look her way. “You were born on a rock farm, weren’t you?”
Her legs seemed to seize, and Pinkie stumbled. She managed to catch herself before she could fall on her face, though, and then it was as if the stumble had never occurred. She nodded excitedly and grinned, but didn’t look his way. “Yeah. We’ll visit the farm tomorrow, you’ll see!” It was like she was trying to distract him with false promises. But no, Pinkie wouldn’t do that.
Would she?
They followed the main road, soon entering the commercial sector of Rockstead. Pinkie pointed out an establishment or two, including a sculptor’s shop and a café, but her attempts at giving Fine a guided tour of town kept getting hindered by pauses, mumbles, and stutters. After nearly ten minutes of this, Pinkie came to a pause. Stopping beside her, Fine waited patiently to see what she was thinking… only to realize that she was staring down the road with a look of loss.
Bending down a little so he could get a better view of her face, he asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Rockstead is,” she muttered, tears welling in her eyes. “All the places I know are gone. Well, not all of them, but most of them. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel. Part of me doesn’t like it at all.”
He glanced around, wondering just how much of the town had changed in her absence. He wasn’t clear on the details, but he knew it’d been more than a decade since she’d last set hoof in Rockstead. Of course things would have changed, but surely not that much?
“I’m sorry,” she muttered, kicking at the ground. “I won’t be much of a tour guide after all.”
Even Fine knew what needed to be done in a situation like this. He reached a hoof over her shoulder and gave her a gentle squeeze. “How about we go to the inn for now? You can show me around tomorrow.”
Pinkie hesitated, her eyes shifting slowly about the busy street scene. “A-are you sure? I don’t want to be a bad host.”
“You’re never a bad host, Pinkie.” He gestured forward with his head. “Come on, you know where the inn is, right? Show me the way, tour guide.”
“Aww, look at you, trying to cheer me up.” She patted him on the cheek, her typical smile coming back, then began to bounce ahead. “Come on, I made us reservations at the Rock Bottom Inn. At least they’re still in town.”
Fine wasn’t sure if he was responsible for her abrupt cheer or if she had simply straightened the mask. He hoped it was the former.
Any place with the title of Rock Bottom would naturally lead Fine to be suspicious of its quality. Fortunately, the inn Pinkie brought him to was in far better condition than its title suggested. A two-story structure nestled amongst pines trees, the walls of its bottom floor were made up entirely of basalt while the top floor consisted of crisscrossing timbers not unlike a classic log cabin. Dark brown shingles made up its roof. On the whole, it struck Fine as pleasantly rustic.
The interior was similar, with a spacious main lobby that clearly doubled as a dining room. It was already crowded with patrons, far more than either Pinkie or Fine had expected. As they were registering their arrival at the front desk, she decided to ask what was with all the visitors.
The clerk, a middle-aged blonde-coated stallion with a thinning brown mane, explained: “They’re part of that relief group started in Canterlot. Y’know, the charity set up by them fancy ponies? Rockstead got named one of their base of operations for helping the towns south of here that got damaged when that giant snake thingy went on a rampage.”
Fine examined the crowds curiously. He’d known Fancy Pants and Rarity had formed such a charity, but this was the first time he’d seen the ponies directly involved. “The Silma Incident was almost a year ago,” he noted. “I’d have thought they’d be almost done at this point.”
The stallion nodded while giving Pinkie the keys. “They are. Another week or two and they’ll be packing up. Way I hear it, they’ve done all they can do for this part of Equestria. Homes rebuilt, lives back on track, all that business.”
Pinkie pronked in place. “Wow, that’s so cool! I mean, I knew Rarity was helping Fancy manage some big fundraising group to help the ponies, but I didn’t know it was going on all over Equestria. They should totally celebrate being such awesome helpful goodhearted ponies.”
Fine smiled at her good cheer. It wasn’t often he saw her behave this way and didn’t notice any of the signs of deception. Her life might be a bit confusing and troublesome right now, but she was still the Element of Laughter. A shame he had to be the wet blanket to her radiant joy. “I don’t know, Pinkie. I bet the first thing on their minds is getting home, not parties.”
She turned to boop his muzzle, her own turned up in a lecturing manner. “That’s because you are a professional party pooper. But I am a professional party pony, and I say these folks need a party. No, they deserve one! Rarity’s done so much to make all of this happen, and it’s past time I, Pinkamena Diane Pie, lived up to her example by helping the ponies here.”
It took some effort to keep from frowning, but somehow Fine pulled it off. Throwing parties for a bunch of ponies they didn’t even know? They were supposed to be getting to know one another, not playing around. And yet, as he stared into those big blue eyes that somehow combined seriousness and mirth into a single package, he realized there was no point in arguing. Pinkie Pie was Pinkie Pie, and Pinkie Pie did what Pinkie Pie wanted. Getting between her and the chance to throw a party? Not happening.
That didn’t mean he had to like it.
“Excuse me?”
They turned in unison to find a young mare before them, probably still a teenager. The earth pony was backed by a small herd comprised of both genders and all races. The young mare glanced between the two of them before settling her gaze on Pinkie. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but it sounded like you know Miss Rarity Belle personally.”
“Yes indeedy doddily!” Pinkie nodded frantically. “She’s one of our bestest best friends and a really swell pony. Why, do you know Rarity?” A quick gasp. “Are you her friends, too? Please say yes! That would be super amazing to know that Rarity’s making more friends thanks to her hard work.”
The mare weathered Pinkie’s verbal barrage with commendable patience, smiling the entire time and only looking a little anxious. “I-I’m afraid I only met Miss Belle once. I was there at her speech in Coltcago, and I must say, she really inspired me! I volunteered that very day.” She looked back to her companions, who all nodded enthusiastically. “Everypony here was just enthralled by Miss Belle’s passion and generous spirit. We all came out here because of it, and these last few months have been the most rewarding of our lives.”
So, not only a fashionista, but a charismatic leader of ponies as well. Fine was impressed. He hung back and let Pinkie do all the talking with this group, though. After all, she was in her element; best to let her shine while she had the chance.
And shine she did. Within minutes she was greeting all the ponies in the tavern dining room, whether they were part of the relief effort or not. Fine had no doubt that by the time it was over she’d have a few dozen new names memorized and every intention of making the lot of them her friends. Hay, who was he kidding? She’d probably already made them her friends just by saying ‘hello’. She had that effect on ponies.
The clerk at the counter watched with a warm smile as the crowd grew a little livelier. “That’s some mare you’ve got. She always like this?”
Fine’s first instinct was to correct the stallion, but held himself back. It seemed he was doing a lot of that. “Pretty much,” he replied with a shrug. They both perked their ears when a corner of the room burst into raucous laughter. Pinkie wasn’t behaving any stranger than usual, so Fine guessed she’d said something to cause the ruckus. “You’ll never find a mare with more energy.”
Pinkie did her work, darting from pony to pony and bringing good cheer. Fine could only watch, mesmerized by the skill at which she brought about smiles. They followed her random path like the wake of a ship, speckled with giggles and cheers. It amazed him to no end, how she could brighten a room just by being in it. For a few precious minutes, the entire purpose of their visit to Rockstead was forgotten in a pleasant flood of infectious happiness.
“Hey, Fine, guess what?” She hopped to his side and wrapped a hoof around his shoulder. The unfamiliar contact made him tense up, as always. “You were wrong, Mr. Smarty Pants! They’d love to have a party thrown for them. And I am just the mare for the job!” Without letting go – in fact, she seemed to have gotten even closer with the motion – she turned to look over their shoulders to the clerk. “Mr. Collate, is it okay if we used the Rock Bottom for the party? I promise it’ll be a good one, as good as a party pony can make it.”
The stallion’s warm smile remained firmly in place. “That would be wonderful, and certainly good for business. When did you plan to have it?”
“Next weekend!” She was now pressed flank-to-flank against Fine. She looked him in the eye at point blank range. “You’re okay with that, right, Fine?”
Fine’s mind was running in little circles trying to get a hold on his feelings and knowledge at once. Her flank feels nice. How did she know the clerk’s name? She’s so close I can smell her. What was this weekend? She smells like strawberries. Do we have to have a party? Her flank feels nice. We didn’t come all this way for parties! I really like that smell. Her eyes are real pretty. What was that about a party? Her flank feels nice.
A pink hoof squished his muzzle, forcing his head to lean back slightly. “Hello! Equestria to Fine, come in, Fine.”
His eyes crossed, taking in the hoof pressed against his muzzle, then refocused his attention on those sapphire pools. “Oh. Right. Uh, party?”
She nodded solemnly. “Party.”
“Party.” He returned the nod, smiling as a fresh bout of heat hit his cheeks. Only now did he realize she was no longer pressed to his side but standing in front of him. “We can do that, sure.”
She whipped around and spread her arms wide. “You hear that, everypony? The ‘You’re All Amazing for Helping Ponies Out Party’ is on, and you’re all our very special guest! Saturday afternoon, see you all here!” The inn erupted in cheers so loud Fine had to fold his ears against the noise.
Their impromptu introduction to Rockstead complete, the two of them made for the stairs. Pinkie hummed the whole way, her tail swishing playfully. Fine wondered if she knew she was doing it practically in his face. The smell of strawberries – from a shampoo, perhaps? – wafted into his nostrils with every swing, reminding him of his little lapse of cognizance a few minutes ago. What had that been about, anyway? Fluttershy had never made his mind go haywire like that. Maybe because Fluttershy had never touched him in that way?
Which brought forth entirely new questions. Why had Pinkie gotten so close in the first place? Was she trying to send a message? It could be that she simply didn’t understand the definition of personal space – a very real possibility where she was concerned. Then again, while he’d certainly seen Pinkie get close with others, this had felt… different. Not like a typical hug or a leg around the shoulders. Did he like it? He couldn’t be sure.
He’d be willing to try it again. Just for the experiment, of course.
“Oh, looks like we’re neighbors.” Pinkie paused next to a door with a number that matched one of the keys she was holding up, 214. The very next door had a number matching the other key, 212. That room was at the very end of the hall and, if Fine remembered the floor plan correctly from his snooping prior to their trip, was slightly larger. “Which one do you want?”
Fine had decided this matter long ago, but couldn’t resist a happy smile that she’d bothered to ask. “I think I’ll take 214.” He plucked the key from her with his magic. “Give you the one with the most sun.” She’d like that, right? Being the bright and cheerful pony she was.
Turning to him, she cocked her head in a curious pose. “Really? I’d have thought you’d want the corner room.”
“Why?”
Her eyes flicked over his shoulder, as if to check to make sure nopony else was in the hall. Her answer had no less cheer, but was quiet. “More windows. More exits. More ways to observe what is happening around you.” She smiled and added in a knowing tone, “Safer.”
A wave of warmth filled him at her words. “It seems we were both trying to be considerate of one another.”
“Yeah, I guess so.” She eyed the key in her hoof, then shrugged and unlocked the door to room 212. “If you insist, I’ll take it! Thanks, Fine.”
“You’re welcome.” Guided by curiosity, he stepped halfway into Pinkie’s room to investigate. It had a bed clearly intended for two, and large bay windows opening up on the two corner walls, both with heavy-looking, plum-colored curtains. The floor was a hard, unlacquered wood covered in rugs depicting flowers, mostly lilies. There was a bathroom taking up a corner, as was typical, along with a simple sink and vanity. No closet, but a rack for hanging clothes stood near the door. A small coffee table with two plush brown chairs dominated the remaining corner, and the whole room was lit by wall-mounted lamps with yellow shades. The entire room had a rustic look, much like the rest of the inn, and Fine found it quite comfortable-looking.
Pinkie, her saddlebags already placed on the bed, opened the curtains of the east-facing window and stared out at the scenery. It was mostly woodlands. Seemingly dissatisfied, she went to the other window. Although the limbs of a large pine tree were in the way, from there she could see the town and get a good look at the ongoing activities of the locals. “Ah, that’s more like it!”
The forest appealed more to Fine’s taste in vistas, but he wouldn’t begrudge Pinkie her whims. He did regret that his own room wouldn’t have this nice view of the forest, though. No matter; he could sacrifice that if it meant making her a little bit happier.
He glanced at her, fully expecting to hear some sort of playful remark about the ponies on the streets below. Instead, he saw her mane had fallen flat again, and her shoulders were slumped. “Pinkie?”
Her ears flicked. She turned her head towards him, but only slightly, and didn’t look from the window. “I’m sorry about the party. I know it’s not what you had in mind for this trip.”
No, no it wasn’t. He stepped closer but kept his distance. “It’s okay. You’re Pinkie Pie. You do parties.”
“Yeah… I am.” Not a drop of enthusiasm in the words. She pawed at the floor, head lowering just slightly. “Umm… You don’t mind going first, do you? I promise I’ll talk about myself some tomorrow, but… right now…”
Go first? He’d come to think they wouldn’t be discussing anything at all tonight, that perhaps she’d want to spend more time with the ponies downstairs or plan her party. He finally let himself stand at her side, and followed her gaze to the streets below. As he watched the few ponies still out and about, he took in the town of Rockstead. It was a small place, smaller than even Ponyville had been pre-Silma. Only now, observing the buildings that looked new and clean, did he remember her earlier concerns: this wasn’t the Rockstead she remembered.
He looked to her solemn face and felt pity. “Sure, I can go first. What did you want to talk about?”
She jumped into the answer with much more energy than he expected. “Oh, I have no idea. I have so many questions like why you like writing so much or what’s your thing with ‘little misses’ or why I’ve never not once heard you sing and I already know a little but not everything and I don’t want to ask you anything big at the start like who was the first pony you—” Her face froze, pupils shrinking to pinpricks as she turned away once more. She kicked her forehoof back and forth on the floor a few times. “B-but we should start simple. Yeah. Simple. So… um… cutie mark?”
Cutie mark? Fine smiled and bumped her shoulder with his own. “You mean I never told you my cutie mark story?”
“No?” She scrunched her face up, tongue sticking out the corner of her lip as one eye examined the ceiling for clues. “No. Pretty sure I missed that. I’d have remembered.”
“Maybe.” He looked out the window, still smiling as he thought back to a time before she was even born. He promptly resolved to do that less, as it reminded him how much older than her he happened to be. Was that a problem? He was almost twelve years her senior. What was the term for that, robbing from the cradle? Not that Pinkie wasn’t an adult, of course, but the point still stood. Ponies might care about that. Did he care about that? He didn’t think so.
Pinkie’s quiet voice derailed his train of thought. “If it’s not a good story, you don’t have to…”
Only now did Fine realize he was frowning at his reflection. He shook his head to clear away the worries that had been forming. “No, it’s not that. I just… nevermind.” He turned to smile for her once more. “Cutie mark stories, eh? I can do that.” He spun about to display his cutie mark, the silhouette of a rearing pony that blended in neatly with his mottled brown coat. “Obviously, my mark is all about stealth.”
Pink hooves grabbed his flank, making him jump. Pinkie peered at his cutie mark as if it might hold the secrets of the universe, which simultaneously amused and disturbed him. He almost stepped away, but forced his legs to remain still while she continued her observation. If he was to be in a relationship with… well, with anypony, shouldn’t he get more accustomed to close contact such as this? Although he wondered how she’d feel if he’d done the same to her.
Who was he kidding? She’d probably let him.
“So, what did you do?” she asked, stepping back at last. “Hide from a manticore? Oh, go on a secret ninja stealth mission?” Only now did he notice that her mane was regaining some of its bounce. He promptly decided that if staring at his flank made her mood go up a little, she could do it all she wanted.
No, scratch that. It was still too unnerving. He’d have to find other ways to improve her mood.
“No ninjas were involved,” he said with a chuckle, sitting by the window. “But I was on something of a mission, if you will. I…” He paused, wondering just how much he wanted to explain. At her doe-eyed, eager look, he sighed and nodded. The whole truth, then. “Back when I was a colt, I… My family was rich. It was just my father and me back then, so this was after the island.
“I was a bit of a problem child. I’d skip school to visit the poor parts of town. I met with all the ‘bad’ ponies. The gangsters and the thieves and the killers.”
Pinkie let out a quiet gasp. “Wasn’t that dangerous for a little colt?”
“It could be.” He smiled, recalling once more his days of wandering the dirty streets of Las Pegasus, being greeted by the less fortunate and seedier ponies. “They thought I was lost the first time, left me alone because I obviously had nothing worth stealing. But then they learned how smart I could be, how observant. I’d watch them commit a crime, then later I’d ask them ‘why not do it this way?’ They – and I – found that I knew how to be sneaky and deceptive. Before any of us knew it, they were greeting me like a friend and asking for help with things.”
Only now did he notice that Pinkie was staring at him, her eyes bigger than he thought was physically possible for any pony. “You mean you were a criminal even before you got your cutie mark?”
He smirked at her shocked expression. “I was an accessory. I never actually committed the crimes, not that that absolves me. The way I saw it back then, if the ponies didn’t want their things stolen, they should have been smarter about protecting them. If anything, I saw myself as performing a service for the city: ponies learned to be smart or they got robbed.”
Her gape hadn’t eased up at all. “You were friends with those ponies?”
The smile on his face disappeared. He looked out the window as he replied. “No. Not friends. I was useful to them, no more. I… enjoyed being useful. It was the only time I did, when I was helping like that. But I knew, even back then, that they’d turn on me in an instant if they thought doing so would get them something they wanted.”
Pinkie’s ears folded back slowly. “So you wanted to feel useful, but you couldn’t trust anypony? That sounds really sad.”
“It was.” He watched a tall wagon roll past, led by a tan mare that was vaguely familiar to him. “I didn’t pick up on that fact until much later, but it was. I really only had one friend from that bunch.” He touched at his throat, disturbed to recall that he’d left the knife back at home. Why had he done that? “But more on her another time.”
At her nod, he turned back to her. “So… uh… right! Cutie mark.” His smile came back now that he had returned to the topic at hoof. “Turns out, not everything I did harmed innocent ponies. Half the fun was in getting even with the bad ones.”
Cocking her head, Pinkie asked, “But how do you decide which bad ponies deserve getting even against? I mean, if you’re helping bad ponies in the first place, and you’re kind of a bad pony yourself—” that part with some hesitancy, as if wary she’d offend him “—what makes a bad pony so bad they deserve punishing when the regular bad ponies don’t?”
Fine shook his head. “It wasn’t about good and bad, not really. Even the thieves and crooks I helped had a sense of ethics and respect about them. But this pony?” He scowled. “Bitter Rumblings was the biggest flankhole in the slums. I should know, I looked him up once after joining the Archons. The stallion was a monster, and even the lowlifes I knew to avoid thought he was a villain. Everypony was sure he had a fortune of bits hidden somewhere in his house, and somepony tried roughly once a week to find it. Many of them didn’t leave the building alive.”
His lips split wide in a wicked grin. “I spent months watching his house. Studying his movements. And one day, on a whim, I decided to sneak inside.”
His eager audience gasped, raising both hooves to her lips. “Why would you do that?”
Crouching as if to pounce, he flexed his shoulders and flicked his tail. “Because I could. Because it was a thrill. Because I wanted to help ponies get back at him.” He felt the familiar delight of the hunt, the proximity of the enemy, the emotional high of coming so close to being caught. He couldn’t have stopped smiling if he’d wanted to. “But mostly because it sounded like fun.”
Pinkie shook her head frantically. “But he could have killed you!”
“And he would have, had he caught me.” He circled her, keeping close, but not close enough to touch. He kept his voice low, watched her out the corner of his eye. A predator after his prey. Pinkie shifted and shrank from him. “I snuck in through the bathroom window. I followed him around the house, taking careful notes. Always hiding just out of sight, searching the rooms for secrets.” He whispered in her ear from behind. “So close.”
By the time she looked, he was at her other ear. “Literally underhoof.”
He drifted to the front of her, smooth as a snake, and peered into her eyes. “And then?”
She swallowed audibly. “A-and then?”
Abandoning his dark tone, he sat back and tapped his forehead, smirking. “I stole his wig.”
Pinkie’s face, still stuck in an expression of anxiousness, froze. “His… wig?”
“Yep.” He swung his hoof as if to grab something out of the air. “Snatched it right off his shiny bald head. Carried it out of that house like a trophy.”
A beat. Another. Pinkie snorted.
Her mane popped out into its normal curly wildness as she fell over laughing, legs kicking at the air. “That’s hilarious!” She rolled over, looked up at him, and burst into another fit of giggles. “Oh my gosh, I can just see a mini-you parading around with a wig like it was the greatest thing ever!”
Fighting his own giggles, he turned to pat his flank. “And that’s when I got my cutie mark. For stealing a wig.”
“Too funny!” Gasping, Pinkie finally began to control herself. “Oooh, I wish my cutie mark story was half that silly.” She sat up and grinned. “It’s almost embarrassing how cute that is compared to mine.”
He basked in the radiance of her smile, but a stray thought put a stopper on his joy. Not enough to completely kill his smile, no, but it deadened it quite a bit. As his own breathing recovered, he looked back out the window at the darkening, nearly abandoned street. “That was the first time I ever committed a crime directly.”
Pinkie’s grin gradually faded, the mirth in her eyes replaced by concern. “Oh. That’s… not something to laugh about, is it?”
“It’s not that.” He shook his head and gave her a look he hoped was encouraging. “I was so happy to have my cutie mark. I loved being sneaky and hiding from ponies. It was, and still is, a lot of fun. It’s just…” He glanced away, hoping the touch of sadness didn’t come through his expression. “That story really does foreshadow where my life was going, doesn’t it?”
With a sigh, she stepped close and rested her chin on his shoulder. He tensed at the contact, but only for a moment. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I guess that wasn’t the best way to start, was it?”
“No.” Though the act made the moths in his stomach fly a few laps, he reached an out to hug her shoulder. “It was the perfect start. We both knew this trip wasn’t going to be about happy memories.”
“I guess,” she conceded.
Together, they stared out the window as the last light of day faded, leaving them in darkness. Fine felt… he wasn’t sure what he felt. It was comfortable, and yet not? Part of him wanted to push Pinkie away. Another part of him hoped she’d never leave. His free right hoof kept rising and falling as he tried to think of what to do with it. Were they having a moment?
“Hey?” She caught his eye and smiled warmly. “Wanna hear my cutie mark story?”
He smiled back. “I already know it.”
She nodded against his shoulder. “Wanna hear it again?”
He considered her for a moment, staring into her big, eager blue eyes. He returned her smile.
It seemed he was doing that a lot, too.