After an extensive and, frankly, underwhelming tour of the town, Braeburn began to lead me to his house. "House" being a loose term, because it was literally nothing more than a shack. When I saw it, I stopped in my tracks with my jaw dropped.
Braeburn was on his front porch when he realized I was still a few yards away. He blushed.
"Ah know it's not much, but it's actually better than most pony's homes in town. You've had a rough day, but just give it a chance."
He extended his hoof to me on his porch, making me blush again. He's just going to think my cheeks are permanently pink, I thought.
The house wasn't actually all that bad, but it was still not as grand as a standard cloud home or Canterlot apartment. However, I would have to grant that the kitchen and living room were nice enough, the kitchen with copious wood embellishments and an old-fashioned looking stove, and the living room with an actual TV and a lounge chair. In addition, there was an indoor bathroom. Seriously, I had seen a lot of outhouses in town. I was suddenly grateful for the small home. However, there was one problem-
"There's only one bed," Braeburn blurted at the end of the tour.
"What?" I asked incredulously. As much as I liked Braeburn- and I did! A lot!- I was very opposed to sleeping with a stranger, in any sense, especially with a broken wing. "You don't have an extra cot or couch anywhere?"
"Ah never had the need," He said bashfully. "All my close friends and relatives live in town and Ah, uh.. Ah've never had a special somepony."
I blushed yet again. Braeburn seemed to be an open book.
"Fine," I relented. He seemed trustworthy enough, I suppose.
"Ah'm gonna fix us up some lunch," He called over his shoulder. "How's carrot stew sound to you?"
"No!" I yelled, slightly panicked. "No carrots. I'm horribly allergic." If Braeburn was going to tell me all about his life, he might as well know mine- at least the important parts.
"Oh," he said, embarrassed. "Ah, uh, Ah'm not in the mood for carrots anyways."
He was lying. Everypony loves carrots- even I like carrots, that is before my throat swells up and I can't breathe, but I was appreciative of his compliance.
"Um, Ah guess Ah'll fix somethin' else up, then," He said, rummaging through his wooden pantry. "You can go ahead and look around."
I decided to look at his bedroom. His bed was big enough to fit two ponies comfortably, but his room was extremely messy. I guess that's how stallions live, though, so I decided that in payment for taking good care of me, I ought to at least clean up a bit. I made sure to keep things in their general areas so he could find where they were easily.
I heart hoofsteps coming down the hall. "Lunch's ready!" He called. "By the way, Ah forgot to ask your name-" He walked in the room and saw my handiwork. His eyes grew wide and a grin cracked his face.
"Splatter Paint. My name is Splatter Paint," I replied, thrilled at his happy response.
"Well, Splatter Paint, this is the cleanest Ah've ever seen this room! Thank you!"
I blushed. "It was nothing, really, compared to what you're doing for me."
"Well, Ah've warmed up some tomato soup and crackers. Wanna eat now?"
***
The soup was delicious. However, the highlight of lunch would have to be when Braeburn dribbled tomato soup onto his chin and wiped it onto a napkin. Yes, it sounds funny, but the shape struck something in me. I grabbed it and gingerly used my spoon to drip spots of red onto the white napkin around the dribble. I lost myself in my work, and when I looked at it, it was a delicious abstract of swirls and dots. Well, it was simply swirls and dots the first time you looked- but when you looked again, it was an exquisite apple.
Braeburn marveled at my handiwork. "Wow, that's amazin'!" he exclaimed.
"Aw, it's nothing. It's just... what I do," I replied. "Would you... Would you mind if I kept that napkin?" I asked, embarrassed.
He gave me a kind of funny look. "A'course," he said, soaking up the last of his soup with a cracker.
I tucked the napkin gingerly into a pocket in my satchel. Thinking of art reminded me of the curator, which reminded me-
"Do you have a phone?" I asked Braeburn.
"Yes, but it's old-fashioned," he replied, putting the bowls in the sink.
"It's better than nothing," I said as he showed me the old-fashioned phone with the circular dial. With some difficulty, I dialed the museum.
"Manehattan Museum," greeted a gruff voice- the curator.
"Um, Mr. Fartsy, its Splatter Paint-" I began meekly.
"Please, Ms. Paint! I'd like you to call me Artsy. What's the matter? I'm excited to see what you have to offer."
My eyes began to water. How was I supposed to break this to him?
"Well, you see, Artsy, there's been some trouble. My wing is broken, and I'm stuck in this little town called Apploosa. I can't fly to Manehattan as I was planning, so I'm going to take a train-"
"Splendid! See you tomorrow then," He said heartily. I could almost see the sideburns on his roundish face.
"No, wait! The train isn't coming for two weeks," I said, flinching a little at what he might say.
He simply sighed. "I'm very busy in the next few weeks, Ms. Paint. In fact, I'm completely booked until three weeks from now. If you'd like to secure another date for maybe Tuesday or Thursday then, I suppose that would be okay, but I absolutely cannot do anything earlier."
I exhaled in relief. If I could find a cheap motel in Manehattan for a week, that would work out perfectly! I still had the bits in a small compartment of my bag- enough for a few days of lodging and maybe some "emergency" shopping, but the shopping would have to wait. I re-counted the bits- If I could find a place that charged 15 bits a night or less, I would be okay, with some left over for food. I smiled. This was the best news ever!
I told the good news to Braeburn. He seemed excited for me, but he also had a funny look on his face that I couldn't place. Oh, well. Soon afterwards, my wing started to hurt and Braeburn gave me ice and let me sit in his chair and we watched a movie together. Who knew he liked Ponies of the Caribbean too? I was so happy, even getting in bed with Braeburn didn't seem that bad.