//------------------------------// // Chapter 10: Baiting the Shark // Story: Overture // by Dusk Quill //------------------------------// “You have got to be fucking kidding me!” Fleethoof shouted in the otherwise silent room, storming back and forth across the floor. Bentgrass shook his head and reclined back in his chair while rifling through Dawn Glimmer’s research. “No, I’m not.” “He murders somepony! The guy fucking murders somepony and we’re gonna let him get away with it?!” The pegasus was seething. “If that isn’t enough to arrest him, then you’ve gotta be out of your fucking mind!” “We can’t use it in court, Fleethoof. We don’t have the body to tie to the crime. It would be your word against his. Besides, you witnessed that while trespassing after breaking and entering. You’d go to prison as well for that conviction,” Bentgrass explained, leaning forward until all four legs of his chair hit the floor again with a dull thunk. “And I cannot get a warrant to search for whatever records he had because it’s all hearsay. Sarcidano was the only pony besides Clydesdale that could confirm any records existed, and he’s dead. No judge will sign off on a warrant for a fishing expedition.” Fleethoof rolled his eyes. “Then I’m doing this my way.” He marched across the floor, already pulling his pistol out and chambering the first round. “Put it away, Captain, before you make me arrest you.” Bentgrass sighed and took a long sip of the mug of hot coffee in front of him. The bitter drink invigorated his every neuron. Midnight sat quietly in the corner armchair, ignoring the two bickering stallions and immersing herself in a cheesy paperback romance novel she had found in the lounge’s limited repertoire of books. “It’s the only way we’re going to get rid of him, Agrostis! He’s already proven he’s invulnerable! Bullets are the only thing he can’t fucking avoid! What more do you want? Do you want to wait until he burns down an orphanage? Or how about we just let him chop us up and feed us to a pack of wild animals? How’s that sound?” “I will admit this is frustrating. But we cannot give in and sidestep boundaries,” Bentgrass said, his voice stern yet empathetic. “There is always another way. A legal way. One that doesn’t turn you into as detestable a monster as he is.” Fleethoof gave a growl of annoyance and slammed his hoof into the wall, leaving a sizable dent in its wake. He rested his forehead against the wood, breathing hard to let his aggravation subside. He jammed his pistol back into its holster with force and gnashed his teeth together. “So what do we do then, Bent? What’s the ‘legal way’?” Bentgrass tapped his hooves together on the table, staring ahead into empty space. “You definitely saw Clydesdale recording this deal with the zebra? This book definitely exists?” “I saw it with my own eyes. He was writing the details down in it and then he locked it up again,” Fleethoof said, still speaking into the wall. “What good will that do if we can’t get to it though?” “We can’t…” Bentgrass agreed, a wily smirk gracing his face. His slitted eye turned past Fleethoof’s shoulder just slightly, to Midnight, as he continued, “but that doesn’t mean somepony else can’t.” Fleethoof lifted his head and moved to face Bentgrass. He raised a brow, his head cocked to the side in curiosity. “Are you suggesting—?” “We need somepony to go undercover,” he interjected, filling in the blanks. “Somepony affiliated with the Guard and not involved in controversial black ops like you. We feed them the information we know and what we’re looking for. Then they do the legwork.” “That’s very dangerous, Agrostis… We’d be throwing that pony to the wolves.” Bentgrass rolled his shoulders in a shrug. “It’s our best bet.” “We’d need somepony Dandridge is going to trust inexplicably,” Fleethoof continued. His pacing resumed, trotting back and forth around the edges of the room at a slow gait. “Their cover would have to be immaculate. They need to be a damn good actor or he’s going to sniff them out right away.” “Then we appeal to Clydesdale’s… baser instincts. We’ll force him to act against his own volition by blinding him to the danger, like a camouflage of sorts,” Bentgrass suggested. Fleethoof chuckled under his breath with a shake of his head. “That’s going to be a little difficult to do. I’ve seen photos of the company Dan likes to keep. Suffice to say, his favorite flavor isn’t vanilla.” Bentgrass glanced up, then over to the corner of the room. His eyes lit up while devious thoughts passed through his mind. “So we need somepony different from the ordinary pony. An exotic mare that will appeal to his tastes.” “She’s going to have to be strong-willed and sarcastic to a fault like him in order to give him a challenge he’s going to be interested in pursuing, and voluptuous enough to entice him and get him off his guard,” Fleethoof added in. “Deception is a must. The more experience, the better. Knowing how to lie and how the darker side of Equestria works is mandatory.” “Preferably a decent military background too…?” Bentgrass urged. “Yeah, that’d be good, in case she needed to defend herself if things got sour, and—“ Fleethoof paused mid-sentence. His mind put two and two together, even before he turned back to face Bentgrass. The Earth pony was smirking at him, a knowing look in his eyes when he knew Fleethoof had figured it out. The stallion’s mouth dropped open and his eyes went wide as dinner plates. “No…” Fleethoof shook his head as Bentgrass began to nod his. He looked over his shoulder at Midnight, and turned on his friend. “No. No, Agrostis. No! I know what you’re thinking, and don’t you even suggest it!” “Suggest? I didn’t realize I was suggesting anything,” Bentgrass replied, his voice reticent and innocent to Fleethoof’s accusations, even as the crafty smile continued to sit upon his lips. “But what are you thinking, my friend? I would be very eager to hear your idea.” “I said no! We are not getting her involved in this! Not with him!” Fleethoof stomped a hoof down, standing as resolute as a stubborn mule. His stance was adamant. “Not a chance. No! That is final!” “What’s final?” Midnight asked form her chair, catching on to the raised voices with intrigue. Bentgrass gave Fleethoof a roguish smile. “Miss Dasher, you are not officially a member of Captain Fleethoof’s team yet, are you?” Midnight sighed, and replied with a simple, dejected, “No.” “How would you like to assist us in our investigation?” “Really?!” Midnight’s eyes went as large as her smile. “That’s great! What can I do?” “First, I think we need to go see if that tailor is open.” Dandridge heaved a soft sigh and reclined back in his chair, his hooves resting up on the top of his desk. He wiped a soft cloth along the shiny silver surface of his pistol, polishing it to a bright sheen. Through the open door of his office, he watched the cleaning crew walk by with their third round of buckets. The parlor must have been more difficult to clean up than he imagined. A dark smirk contorted his mouth and a low chuckle rumbled in his throat. He was quite proud of his handiwork. He had the feeling that today was going to be a good day. A timid knock on his door made him peek up over his hooves again, eyeing his housekeeper as she made her way toward him with great caution. He managed an eye roll and began slipping bullets into the empty magazine one by one. Her meekness was a quality he both admired in a servant and found insufferable. Had he not been so damn pleased with the way she managed his home, he would have had her replaced as well. Replaced… His macabre grin widened while he slid another bullet into the magazine. “Your mail, Master Clydesdale,” she said, her voice scarcely breaking above a whisper. “Thank you, my dear,” he replied and took the letters. He began the slow process of sorting through them. “Have my guests had their breakfast yet?” “The cooks are preparing it now, sir.” “Very good. Let them know I’ll join them in a moment. I do want to see them off properly. We wouldn’t want to be rude hosts now, would we?” She didn’t dare shake her head nor look up from the shiny floors. “No, sir, we wouldn’t.” Dandridge tossed each inane letter across the desk and froze when he saw the last envelope in the stack. It was addressed from Angelo Sarcidano. His eyes flicked up to the housekeeper, watching her shrink away in fright. “…Better tell them it might be a little longer than a short while.” The mare bowed her head obediently and rushed out of the office. Dandridge waited until she had disappeared from his sight before grabbing a letter opener between his teeth. He jabbed the thin blade into the paper and tore it open, shaking the contents out into his hooves. A single sheet of paper fell out, tri-folded and sealed with a waxy emblem of the Sarcidano family. Dandridge wasted no time in breaking the seal and unfolding the letter, reading quickly over the single sentence scrawled across the otherwise pristine white sheet. Feds killed Adamo. — Angelo  Dandridge’s jaw tightened and a shudder ran down his back. He read and reread that one line over and over again until even the flow of the ink had been seared into his memory. His eyes narrowed and red obscured his vision. Now he knew why those agents had left him alone the past couple days. The RIS were starting to get under his skin. He was down to his last nerve with them. That smug face of the pallid agent made him sneer as he tore the letter to pieces. “Master Clydesdale—“ “What?!” he shouted, his booming voice resonating around the office and making the housekeeper drop to her belly in fright. He reeled himself in, sucking in deep lungfuls of air to settle himself. The red began to fade into the colors of reality once more. “What is it, my dear?” “There’s somepony at the door looking for you… and breakfast is ready…” Dandridge clicked his teeth together. There was only one pony he could think of who would come to his door to harass him at a time like this. His mind flashed back to the well-dressed federal agent. He could just picture him standing on his doorstep, waiting to take another shot at him after murdering his longtime business partner. The unbridled fires of rage flared up in his heart. With a nod, he slid the magazine into his pistol and pulled the slide back. “Let me handle it…” Dandridge hurried to the front doors, marching down the long corridors of his family’s manor like a soldier. The weight of his pistol tucked just beneath his blazer gave him a sense of power and security. He was going to end this little game with the special agent today. He had it all planned out. Let him back in, all smiles and charm, let him lead himself around the house, and once they were alone… Dandridge swung the doors open wide, already leering at the pony on the other side. Shockingly, the pony standing on his porch wasn’t the obnoxious Earth pony from before. His eyes were instead graced by the sight of a mare, her form slender and smooth. Her dusky gray coat contrasted perfectly with the dark indigo dress she wore, the fabric hugging her sides and clinging to the curves of her hips perfectly. The dress fell aside at just the right part of her flank, revealing her silvery crescent moon cutie mark. A beautiful emerald necklace hung around her neck, encased in gold and shimmering in the morning sunlight. Her messy grayish-indigo mane hung down her forehead, partially obscuring her face. She could have been a pegasus, save for the powerful-looking leathery wings on her sleek form instead of feathered appendages. She was staring off out at the countryside of Thatchholm county, but when she heard the door open, she looked at him with dazzling honey-gold eyes. “Ah, somepony dressed as nicely as you must be Dandridge Clydesdale,” she spoke, her purring voice mellifluous and inviting. She cast a wide grin at him, flashing her sharp fangs and pearly-white teeth. “…Yes.” Dandridge glanced past the mare, half expecting Bentgrass to be hiding somewhere. He felt like he was about to be pranked at any moment. His eyes returned to the enticing filly, eyeing her with curiosity and skepticism. “May I help you?” “My name is Aurora.” She lifted a hoof, taking a very befuddled Dandridge’s and shaking it with vigor. “I’m here to do business with you.” Dandridge scrutinized the bat pony, keeping a careful watch on her as she sauntered around his antiques room. He didn’t know what to make of her or her sudden appearance, given the circumstances. His network of strategically placed business partners was crumbling down around him and his safety net felt like it had a dozen holes in it. He had to be wary of who he let walk through his door. But despite his doubtful nature, he couldn’t keep his eyes from roaming down the curve of her spine, dipping past her wings to her taut flank. She looked as if she kept herself in good shape, something he admired and his eyes greatly appreciated. Beyond her looks, she carried herself with confidence and a certain air of a renegade. A smirk graced his face as he poured two glasses of bourbon out. He didn’t care if it was still the morning. He never made a business deal without some form of good liquor. “I must say, your arrival was very unexpected… Miss Aurora, was it?” he spoke after a moment, watching her from the corner of his eye while she examined some of the rare and exotic artifacts his family had accrued over the generations. She laughed, a light, musical sound that made his heart stop. “Am I intruding on something, Mister Clydesdale? Don’t you want my custom?” “Oh no, don’t get me wrong. I always enjoy the company of a lovely mare, and a Thestral at that.” His grin widened, his imperious personality shining through in all shades. “You’ve simply chosen a… ah, an unusual time to seek me out. Bourbon?” “Ooooohh, it’s been some time since somepony called me a Thestral. That’s usually unicorn slang for us bats. Where did you pick it up?” She smiled at him and graciously took the glass, downing it in one fluid swallow. Dandridge stared in amazement, impressed. The mare was comfortable around strong alcohol. “I do work in Canterlot. I have met many a unicorn in my life,” he noted with a chuckle. His eyes shimmered with amusement. “This is usually the part where I have my guests frisked. Do I get that pleasure, or are you going to hand over your weapon of your own accord?” “I’m afraid you don’t get that pleasure today, Mister Clydesdale,” she responded, shifting her dress past her right rear leg to expose a small silver pistol tucked into a garter on her leg. “And I’m afraid I’m also too smart for that. Touch my gun, and I’ll break your leg.” Dandridge’s wanton grin widened. “Don’t tempt me, my dear… But I do respect your keen sense of self-preservation. Now, what brought you my way?” “Well, after I heard about the recent turn of events in Manehattan, I lost my main supplier for my business. I realized I didn’t have a lot of time left if I wanted to get in with you,” she explained, making her way back around the various display cases. “In my line of work, I’ve learned that speed and efficiency are the top priority.” “And the other priorities…?” Her eyes met his with a devious smirk. “Discretion.” Dandridge chuckled and cooed, “And what business is that, precisely?” “My own, and none of yours,” she remarked, her tone simple and professional. It surprised and eased Dandridge. She knew what she was doing. He chuckled again. “You wouldn’t want me asking about your second job, would you, Congresspony?” His uncertainty deepened the creases in his forehead as he scrutinized her secrecy. “You’re not giving me much reason to trust you.” “That’s fine. I don’t expect you to.” Dandridge finished his drink and set the glass down. He slowly made his way across the room after her, mirroring her steps just behind her. “And how did you come to know of my line of work anyhow? I know all of my clients before they show up at my door. I’ve never heard of you before.” “Oh, believe me, Mister Clydesdale, in my world, you’ve developed something of a reputation beyond the playboy politician Canterlot knows you as,” she laughed, trotting over and tapping her hoof against his chest in a playful manner. “Your organization is a tour de force. Whenever somepony needs something, you’re the name brought up.” His eyes flashed with pride while a conceited smile replaced his salacious grin, his doubts dispelled for a split second. “Well, I have worked hard to maintain my career. Tell me, where are you from, Miss Aurora, that such a reputation of myself exists?” “My business operates out of the Shades. Strictly bats, and strictly clandestine operations, if you catch my drift.” Her words purred out of her throat like a cat. She slunk past him, her shoulder brushing against his side. It sent a chill up his spine. “But the Nightwatch has been cracking down on my suppliers and I need a new source of tools. That’s when I heard of you.” “I see,” Dandridge said with an understanding nod. He glanced down for a moment, then peered up at her through his lashes with a smirk. “So tell me, have I passed your test? Do you trust me enough yet to divulge the truth as to why you’re here, or are we going to be beating around this bush all day?” She smirked back at him and cast a glance his way from over her shoulder. “That depends. Do you trust me enough to tell me if you can help me?” “One step at a time, my dear.” He dared to take a few steps closer to her, closing the gap between them. “No more foreplay. What are you here for?” The mare stared at him so intensely he could swear he felt the electricity between them. His blood ran hot in his veins the closer he stood to her. Her scent of jasmine with vanilla undertones filled his nostrils, intoxicating him with her smell and making every synapse in his brain fire at once. He was still attempting to get over the disbelief that this mare was real and not some pleasant figment of his imagination. “Guns.” Her answer came so sharp and sudden it caught him off guard. “Pistols, specifically. Low caliber so they’ll be easier to suppress. I’ll need about a dozen. Unlicensed, unregistered, and untraceable. Think you can manage that?” Dandridge blinked a few times, letting his mind try to absorb her request. He stared at her with wide eyes and a fascinated smirk. “What do you do for a living again?” She rolled her eyes and huffed beneath her breath. “If you must know, I run a small ring of private contractors that focus on the apprehension of certain individuals for monetary profit.” “Bounty hunters…” Dandridge lifted his drink to his lips and raised a brow. “Bounty hunting isn’t illegal, my dear.” “Not all the contracts we accept are, strictly speaking, legal.” “And I don’t suppose you do your work for the Guard either?” Her eyes twinkled with devilish flair. “Would any sucker?” Dandridge nodded his head once. He chuckled, and then he laughed. “I like your manner, Aurora.” “And I like your jacket,” she replied with a tip of her head to him. Dandridge felt his face go hot as he tugged at the hem of his blazer. “So can you help me out or am I skulking around the wrong cave?” For a moment, Dandridge was quiet. He mulled the prospect over in his head, pursing his lip while he thought. It also gave him an excuse to just stare and take in the radiant mare’s beauty all the longer. His eyes traced the neckline of her dress down her chest. She didn’t seem to mind. Or maybe that was wishful thinking. “Well?” she asked again. “Patience, mon cheri. I can help you,” he assured her, leading her back out into the corridor. “I just have to get in contact with a couple of my ponies first. If there is something I could do for you, I’ll know in a day or two. In the meantime, I’d like to invite you to stay with me here, in my manor.” She looked speechless, utterly taken aback. “No, I couldn’t. That’s far too generous of you, and my friends need me back home—“ “Oh, but I insist! You took the time to make the trip all the way out here from the Hollow Shades. It’s the least I could do!” “That’s very kind of you, Mister Clydesdale—“ “Call me Dandridge,” he interrupted with a wolfish grin. “…Dandridge. But I really can’t tonight. My team needs me for a job. I can’t leave them hanging.” She gave him a shy and apologetic smile and gently rested a hoof on his shoulder. “Perhaps next time, when I’m more available to you.” It took all his self control to keep from just pouncing on the mare then and there. He didn’t like waiting. When he wanted something—truly wanted something—he got it when he demanded. She was forcing him to be patient the same way he was doing to her. It riled him up in a way he vowed to use on her later. “Very well. I understand you have commitments. Business before pleasure, and all that.” He snickered and gave her a sly wink. “Won’t you at least stay for breakfast and enjoy the company of Equestrian nobility for a little longer?” She opened her mouth, about to decline right away, and hesitated. It looked like she was greatly considering whatever it was she had been about to say. After a moment of thought, Dandridge watched her shoulders relax and she sighed, smiling sweetly up at him. “Breakfast sounds great right about now.” “Excellent! Come, follow me. I wouldn’t want you getting lost and stuck here. That would be a tragedy, haha!” She gave a soft laugh along with him, hiding the retch in her throat by turning away at the last second. Whatever Fleety and Bright Eyes were going to do to make this up to her, it had better be damn good… Dandridge’s laugh echoed hollowly through the small room of the bed and breakfast. Bentgrass sat still as a stone at the table, his emerald communicator placed in the center. A holographic screen was projected from the gemstone and was playing out the scene between the two as they headed down a hall, bound for breakfast. Bentgrass made a soft sound of approval and rested his head on his folded hooves, watching the screen like a foal would their favorite movie. “I must admit,” he said after a moment, “your soldier really knows how to put on a façade. She’s quite the little actress.” Fleethoof, however, was busy pacing against the far wall as he had been all morning. Anxious didn’t even begin to describe how jittery he was feeling. His eyes stayed focused on the ground in front of his hooves the whole time, only glancing up at the screen from time to time. He listened for the most part, paying close attention to the conversations the two ponies were having. The sooner they incriminated Dandridge, the sooner he could pull her out of there. “I shouldn’t have let you talk me into this,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t have sent Midnight in there.” Bentgrass’ eyes never left the holographic screen. “Why? What happened to that unwavering trust in your team?” “It’s not a matter of trust. It’s a matter of her safety,” he spat out with anger. “She’s only just finished her training and I’m throwing her to the wolves without any support. If Dandridge is as dangerous as we think he is, her life could be in very real danger right now!” “And it wouldn’t be if she was, oh, say, fighting drug cartels or foreign legions with you?” Bentgrass peered through the translucent screen at Fleethoof, that ever impassible expression on his visage. “She’s doing fine.” “I know she is! It’s not that, it’s—“ “Because you’re not there with her,” Bentgrass summed up in one concise swoop. “Because if something happens, you can’t step in and prevent it, or take the blame for it.” Fleethoof didn’t respond to that. He continued his nervous pacing back and forth, back and forth. Bentgrass heaved a sigh. “You’re going to wear a rut in that floor if you keep it up.” Fleethoof remained quiet. “Trust her, Fleethoof. You trained her yourself. Have faith in her abilities.” “I know… I do… But it feels wrong to be the leader of a team sitting on the sidelines while I send my newest member into the fray alone.” “Being a good leader means knowing when to stand by your teammates and knowing when to let them take the reins on their own,” remarked Bentgrass, finally able to stop the pegasus’s pacing. “Watch, Fleethoof. Watch your little filly earn her place on your team.” Fleethoof took a deep breath and forced himself to look up at the screen. Midnight Dasher was sitting down to breakfast with Dandridge and the others he had seen in the parlor the night before. He knew every single one of them was trouble. They were the criminals, the thieves, the liars, and the murderers. They were everything that was wrong with the world and everything he despised. He was watching Midnight make idle chitchat with them, mingling with them, earning their trust slowly and methodically. Please let her training be good enough… he prayed to whatever holy being might be listening. Please, Midnight, be smart…  “Well, it was wonderful to meet you and your friends, Mister Clydesdale,” Midnight said as the two made their way back to the front of the house. She ran her tongue over her lips and teeth, the last traces of the meal providing the perfect opportunity to further rile Dandridge. “I look forward to working with you in the future, provided you like what your ponies find in my background.” Dandridge watched Midnight’s enticing display and laughed. “Who said I was looking into your background, my Thestral beauty?” “Please! How new do you think I am at this game?” With an exaggerated eye roll, she flashed him a knowing smile. “Don’t worry, big guy. I’m clean. I’ll just let you figure that out yourself though.” “Not too clean, I hope. I like my mares a little dirty.” Midnight did her best to keep from retching again. Dandridge just stared at her, a disappointed frown upon his face. “Must you depart so soon? I was hoping that I could perhaps get to know you better in the meantime, what, with us soon-to-be business partners and all…” Midnight stopped Dandridge with a hoof to his chest as he leaned in closer to her. Despite the urge to gag on the suffocating personality he was exuding, she did her best to give him a flattering smile and bat her eyelashes a few times for good effect. “I’m sorry, but I have to insist, Mister Clydesdale—“ “Dandridge,” he reminded her. “…Dandridge. My mother always told me to be brief with stallions. Give them a bit of a thrill in the chase, if you catch my drift…” Dandridge’s eyes lit up like fireworks. “Oh, I believe I do, my dear.” “Excellent,” she said, diving beneath his advance as he leaned his face in closer to hers. She giggled softly and flicked her silken tail up at his nose. She trotted to the door, her leisurely gait permitting her to add a little sway to her hips while she stepped past the threshold. “I’ll be in touch with you very soon, Danny.” “I shall await with bated breath. Safe travels, my dear.” Midnight Dasher winked back at the stallion from over her shoulder before continuing down the road that led away from the Clydesdale Manor. When she was sure she was finally a safe distance away, she dropped to a crouch and gagged, choking on air in sheer disgust. A shiver ran down her spine. Her hairs stood on end and she felt the overwhelming need to take a long bath. Everything about that stallion made her feel physically ill. If it wasn’t for Fleethoof’s promise, she doubted she would have accepted the task in the first place… She made her way into Thatchholm and back to the bed and breakfast. When she stepped through the door, Fleethoof was waiting there, standing at tense attention until he saw her. He crumbled like a house of cards in an instant. “Thank Celestia, you’re okay,” he sighed, his shoulders slumping, able to relax again at last. “Ugh, that pony gives me the creeps…” muttered Midnight, walking over to one of the chairs in the communal lounge and collapsing into it. “There’s something definitely not right with him. I got little red flags going up in my head the whole time I was there. I mean, it was so easy, but he’s just so… so… ugh!” “‘Ugh’ is an understatement,” Fleethoof remarked with a chuckle. The sound of hoofsteps on the stairs was soon followed by the appearance of Bentgrass, carrying a folder in his mouth. He set it down on a table and nodded his head in Midnight’s direction. “I wouldn’t take ease as a good sign. He’s sizing you up, Miss Dasher. Now we wait to see if he’ll catch on or not.” He took a seat opposite Fleethoof. “Excellent work in there, by the way. The crystal functioned as a one-way camera flawlessly. You’ll be our eyes and ears inside the Clydesdale Manor. And now that Dandridge has caught your scent, I don’t expect it will be long before he makes his move to lure you back.” “Speaking of that, you did make sure her cover was planted, right?” asked Fleethoof. “Of course, Captain. Another agent handled it last night. When his mole inside the Canterlot Archives goes to look up Aurora, he’ll find a wayward pony who’s had a few run-ins with the law. Nothing majorly marring or threatening. A couple breaking and entering charges, trespassing, all the occupational hazards of a contract killer. I threw in a charge of public display of lewdness as well for taste.” “That’ll drive him wild.” Midnight groaned at Fleethoof’s remark. “It works in your benefit, Mid. Do you think you can come up with a believable lie to explain that one? He’s probably gonna bring it up to you.” “Knowing him? Yeah, he will,” she agreed and nodded assent. “I think I can cook up a story to go along with that. It’ll be cake.” “I must say, you are exceptionally skilled at this, Miss Dasher,” Bentgrass observed casually, casting her a sideways glance. “Have you had experience doing this before?” “Are you talking about the lying, the flirting, or the doing whatever to get what I want? The answer is yes.” Bentgrass snickered under his breath. “Remind me to never trust anypony from the Shades.” “So now what do we do?” Fleethoof’s voice had an anxious edge to it. “Is there anything more we can do from here, or is it all just waiting?” “Patience is crucial, my friend,” said Bentgrass, setting a bunch of papers detailing their plan down in front of Midnight. “We’ve chummed the waters. Now we wait for the shark to take the bait.”