"Huh." Twilight took in the unadorned warehouse, her hands in her jacket pockets against the November chill. "So this is your home." It looked just shy of being condemned.
Sunset nodded. "It's not much, but it's mine. A lot nicer on the inside. Folding screens and cheap Scandineighvian furniture can work wonders."
"Not exactly what I expected."
"What did you expect?"
Twilight shrugged. "I'm not sure. I think there was a vague idea about someone firing a shotgun into the air when they wanted everyone's attention?"
Sunset took a moment to consider that mental image. "Yeah, not a lot of that. Canterlot doesn't really do the whole 'seedy underbelly' thing very well."
"How'd you get plumbing in there, anyway?"
"I know a guy. There he is now. Hey, Jerry!" Sunset waved.
A shaven man clad in a half-red, half-yellow robe bowed to her, apparently untroubled by leaving his arms exposed in the autumnal breeze. "Greetings, o Brilliant One."
Twilight gave Sunset a flat look. Sunset gave a nervous grin. "I, uh, might have had a slight influence on the area."
"You don't say."
"In my defense, Jerry Rig has shaved his head since I first met him."
"I'm guessing the robe is new."
"My mother taught me how to sew," Jerry said in a tone that spoke far more of snark than serenity. "I have her old machine."
"He only wears it when he feels like embarrassing me." Sunset shook her head despite her grin. "Which is often."
"But it's so easy." Jerry and Twilight looked at each other after their accidental chorus and laughed.