Sunset Shimmer couldn’t decide which she wanted more; the nearly empty bottle of whiskey at the bottom of her drawer, or the fully loaded gun sitting right beside it. Drumming her fingers on her wooden desk, keeping her face as passive as possible, she considered the pros and cons of each.
For the whiskey, the pros were that it would calm her down, it might make listening to the constant chattering of her client more bearable, and it would give her an excuse to not answer. Cons, her client would most likely judge her like, super hard. Okay then, the gun. Pro, she wouldn’t have to listen to the constant chattering of her client at all, and there was the distinct possibility of endless whiskey in the next life, making it a two for one kinda deal. Cons, she’d be dead, and that wasn’t really the best bargaining position. Odds were, her client wouldn’t pay her corpse to do the job. A small smile started to cross Sunset’s face as she considered turning the gun on her client instead, and-
“Ms. Shimmer? Ms. Shimmer?” The haughty, high-pitched nasal roar of her client snapped Sunset back to reality, almost literally causing her to fall over as she was violently dragged out of her daydream.
Sunset sat up and leaned forward onto her desk, forcing herself to wear a light smile for her client’s benefit. “I’m very sorry Ms. Bubbles, I was just, uh, planning? Please. Go on.” And, unfortunately, she did.
While Ms. Bubbles kept talking, Sunset was once more free to tune her out, and get lost in her own head. She’d been at this game for a while, long enough to get her name on the door and a reputation for getting the job done. Becoming a private detective had never really been her dream, but she hadn’t exactly “fallen into it” either. She took pride in what she did, liked to help people, and she was good at it. One thing she’d learned, however, was that as soon as your name started making the rounds, you had a long line of crazies trying to knock down your door.
They asked you to save their grandmother’s ghost from ghost wolves, or investigate the eating habits of their secretly reptilian neighbors. She was asked to cure invisibility in clients standing very clearly before her, and to prove that everyone in town was stalking one specific person, when in reality they were trying very hard to ignore him. Once she got asked to track down a doppleganger from another dimension, and that one she actually believed, for a while. After about a month of wasted time, all she ended up discovering was someone who looked suspiciously like her client, on TV, being dragged into a prison for the criminally insane, having committed more murders than he had teeth. Over time, she learned to ignore these cases; they were never real, and her “clients” never paid.
However, on the subject of payment, Sunset received very little, even from her sane clients. So when Ms. Bubbles knocked on her door, she let her in. Sunset chose to ignore the excessive makeup, the writhing purple nest of hair, the filthy fur neck wrap monstrosity. When Ms. Bubbles started speaking, she chose to ignore the horrible sound of her voice, like a bad soprano and a loud goat competing for the tight space between her vocal cords. Sunset could not, however, ignore the actual words Ms. Bubbles spoke, and the actual words were crazy.
“As I was saying, the garden gnomes are definitely plotting to kill me. Every morning I find them in a circle around my doorstep, all not moving and dead eyed. I keep telling my neighbors to move them, and I keep calling the police to shoot them but for some reason everyone just refuses to help me. Honestly, I’m at the end of my rope here.”
Sunset sighed, rubbing a hand over her mouth as though wiping something distasteful from it. “Your garden gnomes are trying to kill you? Really. And have you ever seen one of them move?”
“Well no not exactly-”
“And have they ever hurt you, done anything threatening?”
“I told you. They surround my doorway every morning and just, stand there, looking all horrible and creepy and downright evil. I hate them, and I know they hate me too.”
“Ms. Bubbles, I’m incredibly, incredibly sorry, but I can’t help you.”
“But-”
Sunset lifted her hand, and shook her head. “I’m going to be completely honest with you right now. You sound crazy.” Ms. Bubbles’ looked offended, pinching her lips together in a distressingly ugly fashion. She started to make a few vaguely word sounding noises before Sunset ran them over. “I’m a private detective, Ms. Bubbles. I’m not a witch, I’m not a member of the occult, and I am not a psychologist, although you should probably find one. I can’t help you.” Ms. Bubbles was completely thrown and, finding herself unable to speak intelligibly, began a sort of wordless and high-pitched whining. A deep, unsettling growl began in the back of Sunset’s throat, but was cut short by a series of short, firm raps at the door.
It was as though a barrel was being tapped; all the tension in Sunset’s body drained free, and she sighed with relief. “Thank Celestia.” Muttering the last, she got to her feet, and took a hold of Ms. Bubbles’ shoulders, wrenching out of her seat and towards the exit. “So very sorry, once again, but as you can see I’m extremely busy. Goodbye now.”
Ms. Bubbles dug in her heels, struggling against her forced exit, but Sunset dragged her along as though she were a child. As they approached the doorway, Ms. Bubbles put up one more monumental show of effort. She managed to partially break free, and get her hand around the edge of the hall closet, dragging down clothes and hangers as she did so. Coming to a temporary stop, Ms. Bubbles turned to face down Sunset once more, talking quickly.
“Obviously this isn’t what you might call a ‘normal’ case but, with your supernatural expertise I figured-”
Sunset lifted her hand with a frown. “Let me stop you right there. Supernatural expertise? Who, exactly, gave you that impression?” Sunset’s head tilted towards Ms. Bubbles’ until their noses nearly brushed, and her eyes looked narrow enough to cut steel. Ms. Bubbles was suddenly extremely eager to leave, letting go of the closet and reaching for the exit, but Sunset held her still as easily as she had moved her along previously. “Who.” It was no longer a question. It was a threat.
“Uh, well, it’s just, he told me not to say and-” Ms. Bubbles screeched when Sunset gave her a hard shake. Her teeth were clenched, her eyes seemed to be literally on fire, and that growl was starting up again.
“I’m not gonna ask again.” The way Sunset said it put visions of grave markers into Ms. Bubbles’ mind, and she nearly screamed out her answer.
“Nails! Chief Nails!” Sunset’s face dropped from horrifying she-demon back to mildly annoyed, and she let go of her ex-client with another sigh. Ms. Bubbles scrambled at the door handle and wrenched it wide open, sprinting past the person outside. Sunset closed her eyes, and pinched the bridge of her nose, suddenly extremely tired. She walked back towards her desk, waving her other hand as an invitation. “Come in.”
“What was that all about?” The woman asked, a faintly posh tone in her voice, softly shutting the door behind her.
Sunset pulled open her bottom drawer, and finally pulled out the bottle of whiskey that her brain had been screaming for for the past half hour. She shrugged while pouring herself a half-glass. “Creative differences. Want some?”
“Oh heavens no. I’d never drink such a dreadful beverage.”
Sunset chuckled, capping the bottle and placing it next to her glass. “Dreadful? You know, you sound just like-” She never got the rest of her sentence out, because at that moment she finally looked into the hall and saw exactly who her guest was. Her jaw worked, opening and closing without making a sound, and her eyes widened. “Rarity?”
The woman in the hall flashed her a quick, dazzling smile, before turning her attention to the clothes Ms. Bubbles had knocked to the ground. Swiftly and precisely, she gathered them up, dusted them off, and hung them in their rightful places. That done, she took the few strides required to stand directly in front of Sunset, the desk between them. She put a hand to her hip, cocked her head to the side, and flipped her hair behind her back. “The one and only, darling. What’s it been since we last spoke, hm? Two years?”
Had it really been two years? Funny how quickly the years pass when you’re studiously not thinking about somepon- someone. But it wasn’t like Sunset had been avoiding her on purpose. Sure, they’d had their problems, and sure, things hadn’t ended on the best note but, two years? Without thinking, Sunset began to rub her left arm, frowning.
What had she been doing for all that time? Getting herself together, getting her job, and becoming the best detective she could be. Case after case, she took anything that fell her way, and sought out what didn’t. It hadn’t been pretty, and it hadn’t always been what one might call “strictly legal,” but it had gotten her here. A home, a job, a name, someone people knew they could rely on. She had an entire room just for her cases, an entire row of filing cabinets inside it, marked “Closed.” Cabinets she’d worked hard to fill, lock up and never look back on. She’d kept herself away from anything that wasn’t work, and it had been worth it. Right?
It only took one look at Rarity, her broad smile and shining presence, to make her question that worth. Sunset sighed, dropping her hand to her jeans pocket, where she kept the only key to her closed cases room. Rolling it lightly between her fingers, she suddenly wished that her past could be locked up as easily. A small cough snapped her attention back to Rarity.
Still standing in her entrance pose, Rarity’s smile was starting to look a bit strained, and she wobbled a bit on uneven feet. “Er, Sunset, dear?” Sunset just looked at her, uncomprehending. Then she realized that she’d just been standing there, staring, for Celestia knows how long.
“Oh! I’m sorry, I- Yes, please sit down, sit down.” She waved frantically at the client-side chair, and sat in her own, almost tripping over her own boots in the process. Rarity finally relaxed her pose, looking relieved. She tugged at the white scarf around her neck before sliding it free in one smooth motion. She draped it across the back of her chair, and slid her long black coat, all decorative buttons and woolen straps, off of her shoulders to join it. Sunset got her hands on her glass and started sipping, or rather, gulping, her whiskey, and watched Rarity get settled into the seat.
Rarity hadn’t changed at all, or at least, not that Sunset could tell. Still with the smooth, flawless skin, still with the perfect wavy spiral hair, still the admirable attention to fashion. Rarity’s outfit clung to her like Cinderella’s horseshoe, like a flowing, indigo-purple-white silken saddle draped over deep blue jeans. Her eyes flashed as sharp and blue as ever, and her face was just beautiful. Sure, her nose could be a little longer, a little broader and closer to her mouth, her face a little wider, less flat. Sunset’s eyes danced down Rarity’s body. Yes, that could do to be a good deal rounder as well, more barrel shaped. Cover her up in fur, maybe giver her some hooves while we’re at it. Sunset leaned to the side, straining to see a beautiful purple tail sprouting straight out of-
“Hey! You stop that.” Rarity frowned as she spoke, arms crossed. Sunset blinked, and straightened up. “You’re doing your, your thing. Stop it.”
“My thing?” Sunset pointed a thumb at herself. “What thing? I don’t have a thing.”
“Oh you most certainly do! You were stripping me down with your eyes, turning me into a horse so you could make… so you could make sweet horsie love to me!”
“Horsie love?” Sunset scowled, and might have blushed the tiniest bit. “Now you wait just a minute crazy.”
Rarity’s eyes widened. “Crazy? Me? You know what you did you scoundrel! And so do I!”
Sunset placed both hands on her desk, leaning forward. “Yeah? And what is it I’m supposed to have done?”
“Your thing!”
“I don’t have a thing!”
The volume of their “conversation” had risen considerably.
Rarity made a frustrated, wordless scream in her throat, muffled and locked behind her teeth. “You are absolutely the most stubborn, bull-headed lecher I’ve ever known!”
“Well you’re nitpicky and a prude and… not the most annoying mare I’ve ever met, but a damn close second!”
Just as quickly as it began, their chat ended. Both were on their feet, hands on the desk, leaning close, breathing heavily. Moments passed, and Rarity was the first to break the silence, chuckling.
“Well now. That was a good bit of fun, wasn’t it?”
Sunset felt her annoyance suddenly break, and she smiled back. She rubbed the back of her neck, and laughed softly. “Yeah, I guess it was. Just like old times.” She sat back down, and motioned for Rarity to do the same. A few more silent moments passed. “Horsie love?”
Rarity laughed, fully and brightly. “Fine, not the best wording, I’ll admit. You were eyeing me rather fondly, darling.” Sunset blushed more deeply, and turned her gaze to the floor, rubbing her arm. Rarity smiled, but didn’t press. “I just don’t have my tongue about me dear. It’s been two years. I had no idea how you’d react, how you’d feel, I-” Rarity stopped, and bit her bottom lip. Silence reigned.
Sunset tried to think of something to say, something that would speak to the time they had behind them, to the time between them, something that would encapsulate everything they had been, every regret, every triumph, everything they were. Before she realized it was impossible, she was already speaking. “Why are you here?” It came out far more bluntly than she had intended, but she forced herself not to wince. Nothing they could do now but move on.
Rarity chewed her lip for a few moments more, then smiled sadly. “Yes, I suppose I should tell you why I’m here. I… need your help. I looked you up, saw you’d done well for yourself.” She gestured around the office. It was a lot to take in, at first glance.
The space was dominated by paper. It was piled over everything, atop low dressers and high shelves, like camouflage protecting their true identities. It had the look of someone who was incredibly busy, who had a lot of high profile cases… unless one looked a bit closer, and saw that half the pages were nothing more than receipts, bank statements, and the occasional demand for long overdue facility fees. You could see the barest peeking of a case file here and there, notes written across them in a tight scrawl, wondering Who? and Why? and, most often, How much?
The walls were similarly plastered, partially with maps; maps of Canterlot, both of the streets and the surrounding countryside, world maps of varying degrees of detail. Certificates and licenses for various items, some framed, some not, declaring Sunset to be a legally appointed private eye and citizen of the city, among other things. Just behind Sunset’s seat, impossible to miss, was her license to carry a firearm, displayed with the frankness of an unconcealed threat.
And dominating the whole space was, of course, the wooden desk. It was solidly constructed, a deep and polished red-black, looking as though it would survive the whole building falling on top of it without a scratch. One wondered how such a beast could even be fit into the room, or any room for that matter. It was the only clean space in the room, clear of paper, clutter, everything save for Sunset’s glass. Just a flat expanse for Sunset to stare over and drink over and think over. She was quite proud of it, honestly.
Rarity cleared her throat again. “I need you to investigate a… theft. In my store.” She stared at Sunset with a sense of finality.
Sunset tilted her head. “Yeah, okay. I’m gonna need a few more details than that.”
“I suppose that may be necessary once you take the job, but I want to ensure your trust first. I hope I don’t need to tell you how bad a theft can be for a store’s reputation. People might lose faith, and this is a very delicate time for us.”
“Hence, no police?”
“Quite. Police are far too loud, far too indelicate and messy. I need someone independent, and someone quiet.”
“Someone off the books?”
Rarity frowned. “In a sense. I’m not asking you to do anything illegal you know. Just your job. And I assure you, the pay will be quite generous.”
Somehow, Sunset didn’t doubt her. Rarity’s eyes were hard, her mouth set. There was something more to all of this than just a theft, but nothing Sunset could put a finger on without more to go on. The whole thing felt wrong, and somewhere deep in her gut, Sunset wanted to stay away from this one. If it had been anyone else…
But it wasn’t anyone else. It was Rarity, and before she knew it, her mouth was making words of its own accord. “Let’s say I agree to keep things quiet, and agree to look into it. I don’t particularly like it, but let’s just assume. I still need details. I need a look at your shop, at what was stolen, at employee records, security tapes.”
Rarity’s face lit up almost immediately, and she beamed across at Sunset. Sunset, turned away, and tilted the last of her whiskey into her glass, keeping her face as motionless as possible.
“Wonderful darling. I can tell you everything you want. It’s still early, why not down now?”
Sunset sighed. “No Rare, not today. I’ve got other things to take care of.” She looked meaningfully at her now entirely empty bottle. Rarity’s nose crinkled with distaste. “Let’s say I come over tomorrow, around noon? That work for you?”
Rarity nodded her assent. “Here’s my business card. I wrote the address on the back.” She placed it in the center of the table, then stood. “Well, I suppose that’s that. I will see you tomorrow then.”
Sunset grunted, picking up the card and staring at it. It was creamy white and fairly thick. The Carousel Boutique was written in huge, swooping golden letters across the top, with Rarity’s name and number written in a smaller, purple colored version below. In between them, in silver, was what was supposedly the shop’s tagline : “A brighter, better, more outstanding you.” Sunset snorted. On the back was written the address in black pen, though with the same swooping letters as stamped on the front.
“Oh, and Sun?” Rarity had paused just beneath the door-frame, looking half over her shoulder at Sunset. She fluttered her eyes, and gave a brief, sad smile. “It was nice to see you again.” Without waiting for a response, she slipped outside, letting the door bang softly shut.
Sunset dropped the card onto the table, and a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding escaped explosively from her lips. She shook her head, leaned back in her chair, and closed her eyes. She stayed like that for several minutes, long enough to school her hammering heart back into some semblance of slow, rhythmic normality.