Fleur and... 'Rarity' (at least while in public) -- had found a rather tiny piece of common ground on which to build the extremely temporary truce: both wanted Fluttershy to be prepared for her date. And while the 'new dress' part of that requirement still only had one mare feeling that she was the best-equipped to provide it, Fleur did have to admit (if only internally) that the Ponyville-exiled designer worked quickly -- when she let herself work. There would be pauses to second-guess. Quick head shakes, further delays as the soft blue field automatically repaired whatever minor disruption that movement had caused within the mane, and then the mental backup would become visible as a series of corona flares moving for new materials. Oh, and there was also a cat intermittently clawing its way around the shop. It was haughty, visibly full of itself, completely stuck-up, and as an accidentally-spilled (for a given value of 'accident') drink had proven, had just about no substance whatsoever at the core. In that, Fleur felt it matched its pony rather well.
So she wound up spending time in watching Rarity work, and felt that time amounted to too much. But in some ways, it had been an education. She'd gotten to see the moment when the designer, who had momentarily reached a level of second-guessing which needed its very own attached exponent, had wound up with three possible designs: one coming, one going, and one being worked on -- something which had meant more than eighty objects, mismatched in size, shape, and density, moving at the same time. Movement which Rarity hadn't even been visibly concentrating on, hadn't even seemed to notice from the midst of her fret over a single stitch.
It was a casual display of a field dexterity that operated on a level of refinement which Fleur had never seen. She was convinced she was stronger than the mare, but when it came to fine control... Rarity had her, and possibly just about everypony on the continent, bested. To watch Rarity at work was an education of sorts, and most of the lesson concerned the potential weapons-grade effectiveness of sewing needles. A strong caster could easily dispel the mare's efforts -- but might have to do so in twenty directions at once.
(Being outdoors at the moment of invoking that level of temper probably wouldn't help. Cobblestone streets tended to pick up pebbles in the hollows.)
There also turned out to be a surprising second point of agreement: both mares wanted the dress to leave Fluttershy's tail on full (very, very full) display.
"...but..."
"It is a date," Rarity stated. "An occasion when one shows off their best features for --" the effort required to produce the next words was rather visible "-- the pony they are attempting to impress. And as to leave all of your best features on display would essentially have you go about in everyday nudity, I will simply attempt to enhance some of the more subtle aspects through coverage. The tail, however, will be out and about for the night. And the same will apply to your wings. I only cover them in winter, Fluttershy: the need for warmth will not be that much of a factor this evening, and we are dealing with a stallion who hardly ever glances at flanks without feathers." She frowned, squinted through the glasses she didn't seem to strictly need: Fleur suspected they were just present for magnification. "Now, recalling the need for somepony else to apply it prior to the Gala -- regarding your makeup -- "
"-- I'm doing that," Fleur smoothly cut in. "There's an assortment waiting at the cottage. I'll make sure the highlights work with the dress."
"I suppose you have experience," the designer grudgingly decided. "Of all sorts. Very well." Another squint. "Yes... I believe this will suffice. Or rather, it will suffice when I finish adjusting it, and there is no need to keep you in the Boutique while that takes place. The date begins two hours after sunset, correct? Then the delivery will be made well before that."
"...thank you," Fluttershy sincerely said. "This... helps." She stepped down off the little podium, moved a little closer to the unicorn who bore an Element which, strictly speaking, didn't need to exist.
"Any assistance I can provide," Rarity responded. A pause. "Any --"
"-- no," Fluttershy softly cut in. "It's... still no."
"I," Rarity stated, tail lashing once (and field igniting to correct the non-damage immediately), "am not particularly pleased about that."
"...you promised," Fluttershy quietly reminded her. "You... all promised."
"Yes," was the slightly harsh response. "I am not certain any of us are particularly pleased about that. And I suspect taking Rainbow at her word on this might be something of a mistake, as she has likely interpreted her own promise to mean 'Where Fluttershy can see me.' But the rest of us should be somewhat more true to our oaths."
It was an exchange which created questions, and Fleur held all of them back. They would be on their way to the cottage soon enough: anything which needed to be asked could emerge then.
"...thank you." The pegasus took a shallow breath. "...and I'll watch out for Rainbow."
"As well you should."
"...but my tail..."
"Will be groomed." The designer glanced at Fleur. "Highlighted. Presented. Expertly."
There was a faint tinge of humor in the next words, just barely distinguishable through the sudden gathering of vocal shadows. "...you know what happened the last time I went out in a dress which exposed my tail."
Rarity's head briefly dipped, and the blue eyes nearly closed.
"Yes," the designer eventually stated. "When you work out how the events were entirely your tail's fault, please let me know. I wish you the best of luck for this evening, Fluttershy. I give you my hope that everything will work out for the best. And -- this does make me happy, I truly hope you recognize that. To see you doing this... it was not so long ago that the mere attempt would have been impossible. You have come so very far."
Another glance towards Fleur. Back to Fluttershy.
"I wish for everything to work out for the best," Rarity said. "And... I hope to understand what that is. Good luck, Fluttershy."
The two Bearers nuzzled, the nuzzle meant for friends. And then Fleur led her charge out of the shop, allowing four full blocks to pass in the expected silence before bringing the first question out into the world. The qualifier presented for the flying ego had already given her a fairly good idea of the answer, but for this one, she wanted confirmation.
"What did you make them promise?"
"...not to watch. Or interfere. They understand that you're... chaperoning?" Fleur nodded: that was the correct term, and it was also the deal. She wasn't going to let Fluttershy go out into the test gallop alone. As for Caramel... he might have been seeing it as Fleur watching two of her friends connect: she had told him about the supervision personally, and there hadn't been a single protest raised.
She wouldn't play fifthhoof. There would only be direct intervention in a crisis, along with the potential for emergency advice offered within the relative sanctuary of restrooms. On the whole, she would give the two their space, allow things to proceed as naturally as they could, even while knowing that state worked out to 'not very'. But she would watch.
"...they're happy for me," Fluttershy softly said, her head dipping a little as an earth pony mare went by, coral manefall shifting to place more of her face in shadow. "...but they're worried. Because... it's me. I think they would always be worried, because it's me. But they're also worried because it's him. Mares talk, and... we're all mares. Even Twilight knows about Caramel by now, and the gossip usually has to make about ten circuits before it gets into her ears, even when it just needs one to reach the tree. I still don't understand why it's him --"
"-- you will," Fleur stopped her. "By the end of tonight, you will."
A little more trotting, with Fluttershy mostly looking at the road.
"How much do you trust Rainbow?"
"...with my life," Fluttershy softly replied. "...but not with my pantry."
It almost made Fleur smile, for she knew all about that type --
-- no. Not now. There were other things to think about.
"...if it feels like I'm looking up a lot," the pegasus went on, "there's a reason."
Fleur nodded. And there was another question which could have been asked, something which arguably should have been -- but she didn't voice it. Because there were things they didn't talk about, and that number was nearly everything -- but some of those silences came from Fleur's side of the non-conversation. She hadn't told Fluttershy exactly what had happened while within the browning grass, when something which claimed to be a friend had come to call.
There was a question Fleur could have, should have, did not ask. But she didn't voice it. She didn't even really think about it, not on a conscious level. She did everything she could in not thinking about him, because the newest of nightmares was finally starting to allow the older ones their standard showtimes. He hadn't been back, not to see her.
She didn't ask. She didn't think about it. She did nothing more than take (or escort, in the much more conventional sense) Fluttershy back to the cottage, because there was still a lot left to do. And she took some comfort in the fact that but for the potential of a willfully stray cyan ego, the other Bearers would be left out of the night.
But there was more than just Bearers in Fluttershy's life.
"What was that part about the last dress?"
"...a mission," Fluttershy softly said. "Just -- a mission."
"Tilt your head up and to the right." The yellow jaw inclined, and coral shifted again: Fleur's field brought the puff-brush up to the newly-exposed section.
She still didn't know how Fluttershy's brief modeling career had come about, loathed the pony who'd been in charge of it, and was still slightly thankful for one minor side effect. Celestia's deduction had been accurate: when it came to makeup, Fluttershy had no true idea of how to put any of it on. Admittedly, that wasn't the most uncommon state: some very sophisticated, hard-to-use (and rather quick to wear out) tools were required for earth ponies and pegasi to precisely layer the shading into their fur. Even unicorns would need to use a few for the places they couldn't easily reach -- while still dealing with the reversed image they saw in the mirror. Many ponies never achieved mastery, and more than a few simply gave up and trotted about in their birth hues, declaring that they had chosen to display their true beauty to the world. It was, Fleur supposed, a minor improvement of lie over openly admitting 'I still have no idea where the curly bit is supposed to go.'
Fluttershy didn't know how to put on makeup -- but models didn't generally do their own. Somepony else would apply it, and the model simply moved on that pony's direction. Thanks to Photo Finish, Fluttershy could follow orders, and that currently couldn't be seen as anything but a positive.
(However, her charge had insisted on grooming her own tail, in private. It had taken quite some time, and provided a steady exercise in both concentration and distraction as Fleur tried to impose a few subtle field-created adjustments.)
"...how much time do we have?" The little nervous tremor wasn't enough to let Fluttershy's fixed viewpoint seek a clock.
"About fifteen minutes," Fleur told her. "Assuming he's on time. But that's a pretty safe guess for a first date." She patted a little more powder into the fur, spread it carefully. The results had to be masterful, especially since the Foal Soap had canceled out any chance of perfume.
"...my skin itches. It always itched when somepony --"
"-- you have sensitive skin and you don't wear makeup often enough." More spreading, and her field caught a little stray powder before it could try to stain the dress. (Which actually hadn't come out all that badly: mostly pleasant teals, but with some very muted green near the fringes -- and an odd concentration of rather dense gems near the forehooves. Fleur's guess was that Rarity was expecting an eventual need to kick.) "You'd get used to it if you put it on more often."
"...it costs --"
"-- it's been paid for." And at the highest price-for-quality Fleur could locate -- which hadn't been enough. It was another reason to head into Canterlot before the next date: the invoice from a properly-planned shopping trip in the capital might do severe damage to the national air path maintenance budget. "It'll be paid for until we're done. Down, but keep tilting right."
"...you're very good at this," Fluttershy softly decided. "I used to... well, I used to go through this all the time. They were... slower. And -- more forceful."
Fleur didn't answer. Considered whether to give Fluttershy's snout a little brightening. She'd initially had a final result in mind, and it -- well, in one way, it could be said that it deliberately fell short. Fluttershy had a natural beauty. But nature could be enhanced, and so Fleur was doing just that -- but not to what she had perceived as the potential maximum. The goal was to have the eligible ponies in Fluttershy's vicinity thinking about what might happen after the date: leaving them incapable of any thought other than one (and one which didn't arise from the brain) was something best saved for special occasions.
She looked up from Fluttershy's snout, checked the reflection in the little restroom's mirror. The cottage had a lot of space and when it came to the toiletries of its mistress, offered up almost none of it. Two ponies not only occupied all of the available room, but threatened to overflow it. Added to the sacrifice of open area which had been surrendered to the newly-installed cosmetics and application tool racks, the mares were just about touching.
I can't see how it looks from that side.
Because her mane is on that side.
Sun scorch it...
Her corona brightened, just by a lumen or so, and the glow openly moved towards the long coral fall.
"...what are you --"
"-- moving your hair," Fleur told her. "I'll put it back in a few seconds. You've been shifting your mane from side to side this whole time. I have to see your whole face." And because between fitting, waiting for the dress, last-minute preparations, and the six patients who had done their best to interrupt all of it had made for a very long day, "I haven't seen all of you since I got here. Not all at once."
"...I -- just like..."
Having something to hide behind. Fleur had figured that one out early. "I'm sweeping your mane back and I'm checking to make sure the sides match. Hold still."
Energy abruptly swept up and back, spread the results across the back of the dress. And two shocked blue-green eyes blinked at her.
They looked at each other. Just for a few seconds. Time which they didn't quite have to spare, time which suddenly had a new purpose. Something... necessary.
The hesitation, the softness... they almost might have belonged to her charge. But it was Fleur's voice, her own words, and so both came into her possession. "...so there you are..."
Fluttershy was stock-still. Her rib cage moved under the dress, and it was the only thing which moved about her at all. She didn't blink. Her head didn't change orientation, and the wondrous tail never twitched. Afraid of so many things and in this case, probably also afraid of disturbing the makeup.
"I was shown a picture before I was sent here," Fleur quietly said. "I've been spending hours at the cottage, just about every day. I see you every day. And this is the first time I've seen what you look like."
And because she was looking, she spotted the first tremble --
"-- don't."
Fluttershy froze again.
"I don't know who told you there was nothing special about you, not at the start," Fleur softly continued. "I know why Photo Finish said it. Because when you demean a model, make them feel like they're something lesser, it's easier to take control. So that's why she lied. Why the others did... there could be a lot of reasons for that. But I think it was probably jealousy. I know a lot about those lies. I've heard them being said about me. I still do, Fluttershy. There are mares who hate me on sight. They don't know me, anything about me other than how I look, and they don't want to know more than that, because it might make the hate a little harder to justify. They hate me because I'm pretty. And that means they tell lies, they spread stories, maybe they even sang a few songs if they were smart enough to think of a rhyme. Because they weren't pretty, and they couldn't stand that somepony else was. That's the only motivation they have, all they'll ever need. Pettiness kicks, and hopes the bruises mar you forever."
The tip of the tail was vibrating.
"They lied," Fleur quietly told her. "I won't. You're beautiful. You've been beautiful your whole life, and you've been in denial just about as long. You started puberty early, right? At least a year ahead of nearly everypony else. I guessed that a while back. It gave them more to be jealous of, and when you start early... some break, when they're the first. Try to pretend it never happened. Or sometimes -- they try to push themselves back, undo what can't be stopped. But there are those it makes magnificient, who hold their heads high and learn how to use it. Who learn what the lies sound like, and how to block them out --"
And now the yellow ears were dipping. Being pressed against the skull, even as eyelids trembled and threatened to close.
"...stop."
Which couldn't be allowed to happen. Some of the makeup hadn't set yet, and tears would make it run.
"...just -- stop, Fleur. Just..." The vibration had spread to the wingtips. "...stop. I know you're... supposed to make me feel more confident. I know you're trying. But I have a mirror, and... I see it every day, I see myself, and --"
"-- there's a pony on the way who wants to date you!" Those words had been faster. "Who dreams of being with --"
"-- he... he wants to be with somepony who has wings, and my wings, they don't --" her breathing was accelerating, ribs moving too fast "-- they can't -- Fleur, please, just -- just stop..."
She tilted her head away, down and to the right. The mane fell back into place, blocking out half the weeping from sight.
"...stop lying..."
Fleur, unable to move, to approach, to say anything which would be believed... simply watched her cry.
Who did this to you?
Where are they now?
Are they still laughing?
She knew so many ways of making laughter stop --
"-- breathe slowly," Fleur firmly told her. "Bring your head up and back to center. Open your eyes as wide as you can. I have to fix the makeup there."
There was a long silence. Far too long, one which filled the restroom beyond capacity, threatened to burst it from inside.
"...yes."
And Fleur went back to work.
They entered the living room area to find Snowflake with his vast barrel against the floor, playing with the raccoons.
The stallion's red gaze came up, moved across Fluttershy. The white head tilted left, then right.
"You look good," he stated, with nothing but sincerity in the low, soft voice. (He was oddly soft-spoken, especially for such a large stallion, but most of his tones went deep. In many ways, his voice was his best feature, its notes almost unique among Ponyville's chorus, easy to pick out of a crowd -- and outside of the cottage, all Fleur had ever heard that singular voice say were various distant intonations on 'Yeah.') "You really do."
Fluttershy's reaction gave Fleur no comfort. They'd both heard the undertones in Snowflake's words, and Fleur had already been told how Fluttershy saw that relationship. All this did was confirm it. She still hadn't seen Snowflake's puzzle: the only times he'd been in range were at the cottage, and she was still keeping herself shut down while on the grounds. But she knew there was no attraction being expressed in the statement. Instead, a brother was trying to tell his sister that he believed in her and the sister, feeling her sibling had no concept of reality, had chosen to dismiss the subject via smile.
"...thank you," Fluttershy quietly said. "...are you sure you'll be okay for the night?"
"Angel and I are on slightly better terms these days," the stallion replied, starting to straighten up. "Slightly. Especially when he knows that going after me too much means no play dates with Genova."
Fleur allowed a subtle head tilt to ask the question for her.
"...his companion," Fluttershy clarified. "A hare. She's still pretty wild around everypony else, so she doesn't come out in public much. His home, the tent, and here. That's about it."
"And she kicks harder than Angel," Snowflake calmly said. "Which he knows. Hares are a little stronger than rabbits, overall, and she's starting to get her growth. Try not to worry too much about the cottage, Fluttershy: not more than usual. I'll hold things down until you get back."
Fleur took a step forward. "Did you bring it?"
"Yeah," the stallion reverted to form. His head tilted back towards the left saddlebag. "Here you go."
A little rummaging, and then it was offered up: Fleur's field took custody.
"...what's that?" Fluttershy asked.
"An invoice."
"...for what?"
"He's watching the cottage. Just like he would do if you were on a mission. That's a paying job. So I paid him."
"...but he volunteered. As my friend --"
"-- and I get to decide if he'll be paid for it," Fleur smoothly cut in. She glanced at the clock. "Do you want to meet Caramel outside or in here?"
"...outside," Fluttershy decided. "Right in front of the door. It's nice outside tonight."
It was and strictly speaking, it shouldn't have been this nice. Fleur had checked the weather schedule, and so knew that by the dictates of the master list, it should have been somewhat more overcast and a few degrees colder. But the waxing Moon had nothing obscuring its light, and the warmth had been subtly increased to the point where but for the fading plant life, autumn might have almost become spring.
Fleur still didn't know much about Rainbow, not as solid facts: there were any number of public stories to consider, and most of them ended in small claims lawsuits for post-crash damages. But she had learned the pegasus' occupation: the town's weather coordinator, an unusually young pony to be found in that position. And now she knew the mare wasn't beyond a little not-so-subtle tampering in order to make the night a little more comfortable for a friend.
And in her position, she can probably lose most of the complaint paperwork. Of course, if she does that too often, they'll start mailing directly to the Bureau...
"...how much time?" With Fluttershy, the trick wasn't so much in hearing her nervousness as trying to figure out exactly what she was nervous about, which could mean mathematically narrowing all the way down from the universal set. However, in this case, the cause was obvious.
"About three minutes before he's late," Fleur patiently replied. "And his being a little late does not mean he's changed his mind, or gone running into the wild zone, or found another option for the evening. His being a little late means he came across somepony he needed to speak with, or got too lost in his own grooming."
Silence for a while, with both mares looking towards the bend in the path.
"...you're good with time. I noticed that in the treatment room. When I ask you to hold something for five seconds, it's just about five seconds exactly."
Fleur said nothing. Her well-groomed ears rotated forward.
"...and it's not even your mark."
Hoofsteps? She was straining for it against the background music of the cottage's night birdsong, but it seemed as there had to be hoofsteps...
"...I think."
No, that's too much noise. If it's hoofsteps, there's more than one pony on the path --
"...I guess it's a symbolic mark?" Fluttershy not-quite-asked. "Mine is for animals -- but it's butterflies as the mark, because they were... sort of first."
-- but they're definitely coming this way. Did her friends decide to break their word? Or, put another way, Renegotiate? What's another reason why we'd get a group coming out here at this hour?
"...but I've never seen your icon," her charge went on. "I don't think anypony has --"
-- the birds sang their night alarm, and Caramel came around the bend.
He was, in fact, rather well-groomed. To Fleur's practiced eyes, it was obvious that he'd spent at least two hours in that full-body effort, and the amount of that time dedicated to considering a new manestyle had been zero seconds.
The brown earth pony picked his way up the path under unobscured Moon, using the increased light to help dodge anything which the cottage's less intelligent residents might have left behind. Glanced down at the path, up towards the mares, and repeated the trend, smiling all the while.
He wasn't particularly dressed for the occasion: Fleur had advised him not to be. A vest, and a rather small pair of saddlebags. That was it.
Caramel came up the path, approached to within half a body length, stopped.
"It's a beautiful dress," was the first awkward offering.
Fleur didn't facehoof. She almost never did: the act wasn't kind to her fur strands or grain, plus it could easily leave makeup all over the hoof. She just pondered the opening line priorities of a stallion who'd not only had three days of rehearsal to work with, but had decided to reject every last possibility offered by the list she'd left at his door.
The dress. He's attracted to her, she needs to believe it's for more than the wings, and he's starting with the dress...
Which meant Fluttershy could interpret it as a compliment offered up to that bitch, and so managed a sincere sort of "...thank you."
Caramel (a serial dater, she knew he was a serial dater and so there had been a presumption that he would have needed to be at least a little bit good at it), having just completely blown Round One, allowed his own nerves to ring the bell for the next phase.
"I brought a corsage." His head tilted back, and fumbling ensued.
It was the point where Fleur had to say something and after editing out everything she wanted to say, all which remained was the near-toneless survivor of "A corsage."
He found what he was looking for, leaned forward with it, and bumped his snout into Fluttershy's motionless right front knee. It took a muffled, near corsage-losing yelp before the little spring-clamp was attached, where it promptly did its best to both clash with and ruin the lines of the dress.
"Yes," he said, straightening up, visibly fighting the urge to rub at his nose. "Because it's a first date. A real first date." And looked directly at Fluttershy. "I don't know if there's been any dances, or formals, or -- anything. If anypony's ever given you a corsage. So I thought... I should be the first."
Fluttershy tried to raise the foreleg enough to look at it, which did clamp-induced harsh things to the dress' back drape. Fleur simply regarded the chosen flowers under Moon's glow, thought about mild aphrodisiac qualities which only existed in the more fictional parts of certain This Really Happened To Me stories in erotic magazines (which was to say, all of them) and considered that Caramel was not only pushing his post-date luck beyond the bounds of all reality, but was exceptionally bad at research.
(It wasn't as if he was trying to flood Fluttershy's systems with hormones. This particular lie had the flowers as more of a stress-relieving relaxant, completely unlike the red-petaled falsehoods to be found near the ads.)
"But you might not be able to keep it on," he awkwardly continued. "Not the whole night. You should probably snack on it while we're heading in, if you're hungry. We shouldn't bring it into the restaurant. Or the cinema. Neither of them really likes ponies bringing in outside food."
In terms of makeup disruption, a jaw drop was a much lesser offense. Fleur didn't do that either.
Dinner. And. A. Movie. Well, she'd wanted basic...
...why are there still hoofsteps on the path?
"...the cinema," Fluttershy tried.
"I already got the tickets," Caramel assured her. "We can go right in. And I made dinner reservations, too. We've even got some extra time, in case there's any delays on the road."
"...all right," her charge said. "I'm..." a glance at Fleur, then another towards the sky --
-- Fleur's left back hoof subtly slammed onto the back of the dress, pinning it to the ground.
"...ready," Fluttershy woefully concluded. "We can go now."
"Well -- not just yet," Caramel told her. "Because I..." Hooves awkwardly shuffled. "...I have a -- reputation. I know it. I think just about everypony in town knows it by now." His head dipped, came up again, and that nervous gaze briefly met Fleur's eyes. "Including you, Fleur. I know what happens when mares see me talking to somepony who's new in town. A new mare. They catch them up on all the gossip they've missed. All the truths. So I know they told you about me, and... stories get distorted, when they're passed around enough. But there's some truth at the core. They told you about me, and -- you kept talking to me. So, Fleur --"
His left forehoof scraped at the ground.
"-- thank you. For giving me a chance to be your friend. But this is a date with Fluttershy, and -- that means I have to come clean. About what happened that winter, before Ratchette and I..." His head dipped again. "...broke up. If you could even call it enough of a relationship for a real breakup. I got that device for her, as a gift to impress her. And I lied to you, right there in the street, about winning the raffle. Because I'd spent the money which should have gone to you on it, because Ratchette is pretty and sweet and shy and she barely talked to me at the start... I thought I needed to impress her, I knew she loved devices, I didn't think she'd seen that one before... I lied to you, Fluttershy. Everypony knew it, Flitter called me on it, and you're still going out with me tonight, when I never admitted it. So before we head out to dinner... this is me. Admitting it."
His chin was nearly in the grass.
"I lied. I paid for the device instead of paying you. Because I thought I could put you off for moons, and Ratchette was now. I lied. I was horrible. And... it's moons upon moons too late for saying I'm sorry, but you're going out with me and maybe... maybe that means you'll believe it. That when I say I don't want to do that to anypony else ever again, I mean it. I'm sorry. And if you're angry now... if remembering all that makes you want to call the date off... you can just go back into the cottage. I'll trot away. And we'll never talk about this again."
Fluttershy was quietly looking down at him, the one visible eye steady and still. Just -- looking.
"...this," she finally said, "is -- a chance. I'm -- taking a chance, Caramel. I guess... I'm taking one on you too. We can still go out tonight."
A lot of very slow, very heavy hoofsteps...
He looked up. Forced a smile, started to straighten.
"Thank you."
Fluttershy nodded.
"I mean it. I'm trying to do better by everypony. I'm never going to shortchange one mare in favor of another again."
Which was when the birdsong erupted for the second time.
"Instead," Caramel grinned, "I'm just going to spend on one!"
Fleur didn't facehoof. Jaw drops weren't attractive. And so all she could do was stare as six earth ponies came up the path, three to a row, carefully balancing the burden on the planks which stretched across the paired harnesses on their backs.
"It's a new fainting couch!" Caramel declared. "Davenport's best! Well -- the best I could get him to order, since it's technically not a sofa and he mostly just glared at me for a while when I asked. I had to kick a bunch of quills onto the sheet before he'd finally take my bits. Anyway, it's comfortable, the color goes with the cottage, and the one you had... well, it's pretty stained. So I thought, why not pick up a new one? After all, everypony knows I give gifts on dates, and if I did any less for you, then I'm treating you worse than the others! That's not the kind of pony I am."
Fleur and Fluttershy stood stock-still.
"And it's yours to keep, of course," Caramel added.
There were three visible eyes in front of the stallion and between them, zero blinks.
"No matter how the date works out," the stallion finished. "The receipt is between the cushions."
They all heard the cottage door open, felt the steady red gaze moving over the awkwardly-frozen tableau.
"Snowflake," Fleur managed, "would you help them get that inside?"
After a few serrating seconds, "...yeah."
The large body (somehow) flew over their heads, and Caramel looked to Fleur.
"She's pressed between good hooves," he said. "I swear. But I understand why you want to chaperone. So there's a second reservation, a couple of tables away, and a third ticket for the cinema."
Fleur gave him a well-practiced smile. "I'd like to say you won't even know I'm there," she told him, "but I won't lie to you, Caramel. I know it'll be a little different with me along. Just know I'll do my best to stay out of the way."
"Then let's go," he smiled back. "And we'll see where the night takes us."
It's taking us to dinner and a movie. She didn't think it was the most Caramel could conceive of for a first date. It was unlikely that this was the maximum which Ponyville itself could provide, although it might have been close. However, there was a fairly good chance that it was all he'd had bits left for.
But there was one more destination to reach that night, and Fleur considered them to be well on the way towards it as they trotted around the unloading process.
"...thank you?" Fluttershy awkwardly offered.
"It's just a couch."
"...but couches cost --"
"-- and seriously, once you're already paying for emergency shipping from Canterlot, the satin trim is just garnish."
They were heading for the lesson.
Red eyes watched them go. Two did so from ground level, and that gaze held some level of concern -- but eventually, the pegasus went back to assisting the hauling team. The other two, which had decided to remain as nothing more than eyes for a while in order to avoid setting off the birds again, were just hovering in the air above the sodded roof.
There was a rather worried book floating off to the side, right about where the paw would have been. It was the sort of night where assistance seemed to be required.
Eventually, the ponies went inside. And Discord allowed his body to phase in.
"And so it begins," he softly said. "Or rather, for him, begins again. The cinema, is it?" He rather appreciated movies, or at least the concept of them: it was another way to convey fiction, and there was little he cherished so much as a fresh lie. "I think I rather fancy a film tonight, don't you?"
The book hesitated.
"Some ponies say that the more movies are out there, the less ponies will read books," she said. "But some books are novelizations of films. And other films are made from books. Plus there's graphic novels. Did you know those started as rotoscoping? Somepony decided it was too expensive to pay an author for writing an adaptation as a story, so they hired ponies to just trace around the film's cels and bound the best ones in sequence. Word balloons were created to convey the dialogue. Then some ponies saw the medium and thought it could do more, so they started telling original stories with their own art --"
She became aware that Discord was staring at her.
"One of my characters is a film buff," she sheepishly told him.
"Ah."
"It's a way of saying somepony's into new things. Innovative. And maybe not completely in touch with reality."
He briefly considered the possibility of reading his assistant (or rather, having her read herself to him), and decided it was a rather odd concept. Like getting to know somepony by examining their organs. Strictly speaking, it was probably possible and if you weren't particularly good at it, the per-pony limit was once.
"Are we going to follow them?" Harem Fantasy asked.
"If that's how you wish to put it," the now-irritated voice declared, "then yes. And in your genre, when they all know about each other and battle it out... wouldn't that mean following, every now and again?"
"Well -- yes," the book admitted. "To see how the date is going. Because they're rivals, and they're afraid that if a date goes too well with one of them, that's the one which will be chosen."
"Exactly! If it goes well, then he could be chosen! And he?" The next words were a statement. "Is not good enough for her. Do you know the kind of life she leads?"
Harem Fantasy, who really hadn't been provided with all that much in the way of solid information, desperately sorted through a virtual index.
"She takes care of animals," the book tried. (Discord nodded.) "She has missions sometimes, whatever those are. And I think she probably spends a lot of time grooming her tail, because she'd kind of need to and all the characters like her need to groom their tails a lot. Which doesn't keep them from bouncing. Or makes them bouncier." Hastily, "Of course, it's a very nice tail --"
"-- the missions," Discord cut her off, "are what is in play here. Fluttershy lives a life of danger. Excitement. Chaos at nearly every turn, which actually did a rather good job at preparing her for my companionship, as when I happen to be favoring her with a visit, all turns naturally lead to chaos. Therefore, any potential mate should be capable of dealing with all of that, or else they are found to be -- inadequate. He cannot. And so he is not good enough for her."
"How do you know he can't deal with all that?" Harem Fantasy asked, precisely half a second before she realized it had been exactly the wrong question.
And Discord smiled.
"Because we are going to dinner, you and I," he softly replied. "And a movie. And then we will see how he deals with the little things in Fluttershy's life. Like a mane and tail spontaneously bursting into flame."
"That doesn't happen!" the book protested -- then, with the uncertainly of one who was not only rather new to life, but whose core knowledge was built on fiction, "...does it?"
"Clearly," Discord told her, "you're unfamiliar with life in this town. Dinner and a movie, then."
He raised his talons.
"And additionally," the draconequus informed her, "there may be something of a show..."
They vanished.