//------------------------------// // Out of Sight // Story: Discord Day Care // by Viking ZX //------------------------------// tiS hOg tofu The minute hand moved. Not when it was supposed to, of course. No, the clock was wising up. Down below it, underneath a mattress and atop a set of blankets featuring fluffy, multicolored sheep made of cotton candy—another gift, though from a pink pony rather than a yellow one—a draconequus was sleeping. Of  course, the clock knew that didn’t mean that the draconequus wasn’t awake. It didn’t understand how, no more than it understood how it knew that it didn’t understand how. It simply knew. The draconequus was asleep. And it wasn’t. Somehow. It was watching. Through closed eyes. Biological beings, the clock had decided, were strange. After all, why else would the draconequus give the clock a purpose, a time with which to awaken it, only to seize the clock’s hammer each and every day before it could let the glorious gong hanging above itself ring? If the clock was to fulfill its purpose then, it had decided, it would need to be clever. It didn’t know what clever was, nor was it in awe of how unusual such behavior was for an ordinary clock. After all, it was still a clock. Which is why now it was very carefully making sure to move its minute hand after each tick, rather than with. If the draconequus was going to react, it would need to assure that the reaction happened too late. It was almost time. Slowly the hammer rose, ascending towards the large, dimpled-steel gong. Closer, closer … if the clock had possessed nerves, they would have been tingling with excitement. Instead, all it could do was fight to keep its movements steady, make sure it was still keeping time. The hammer rose, swelling in size as the moment of impact drew closer, closer … It was mere moments away now! Just a few more ticks! The hammer pulled back, readying itself. “Aha!” The gong swung to one side, opening like a door as Discord stuck his face out of it. “Thought you could trick—!” The moment arrived, and the hammer, undeterred by the change in its target, struck. “—me,” Discord finished, his voice oddly flat. As was his face. “Ow.” With a muffled groan, he slid out of the wall and onto the floor, coiling like a loose rope. The clock, meanwhile, decided that the best course of action was to play it cool, and stayed silent. “You’re not fooling anyone, you know,” Discord said as he pulled himself up from the floor, fixing the clock with a glare. “You’re a clock. You’re supposed to make noise.” A chorus of rapid ticks and tocks filled the room as the small device caught up with itself. Discord glared at it a moment more before shaking his head. Blasted device, he thought as his face popped back into shape. That gong is proving far too much of a temptation for its own good. Something would have to be done about that. As unexpectedly sly as the clock was proving to be, it was probable that it didn’t know its own strength. And the last thing I want is that gong to get smashed flat, he thought. Or for the clock to become aware and decide to march on its master. Though that would be more fun. Especially if it brought friends. It would, of course, lose. He had allies in the kitchen. Still, it was strange that a clock from Fluttershy of all ponies would be so adamant about things. He left his bedroom, stretching as he headed for the bathroom. A few minutes to freshen up—trim his chin, brush his teeth with paint, and a few other things—and he would be ready to leave. Yes, he thought as he splashed molten rock underneath his arms. Ready to go to … The sense of enthusiasm faded, vanishing as swiftly as his underarm odorant. The orphanage. He let out a small sigh, his reflection giving him a stern glare in return. Then it held up a sign. “Don’t go?” Discord read, then shook his head. “If only. The old me would have done that in a heartbeat. Quicker, even!” Back in the recesses of the mirror, an elderly-looking version of himself straightened behind his walker, nodded, and mouthed a phrase that looked somewhat close to “Darn straight.” “But no,” Discord continued. “Moon-butt made me agree to three days, so that’s what Full Futures will get. Three days.” He slumped slightly, paws on the underside of the sink. “I can put up with three days. After all, I spent over a thousand years in stone, didn’t I?” The reflection nodded, and then offered a quick claws-up. Another sign appeared, this one with the text “Three days is nothing. You can make it!” “Thanks,” Discord said, reaching out and offering the reflection a pawed version of a hoof-bump. “Speaking of which, that unicorn cook, the one with the name that reminds me of pancakes … What was it … ?” He snapped his claws several times, trying to rouse his memory to a quick jog. Behind him in the parlor, a bowl of petunias went through several rapid transformations with each snap—first a pineapple, then a missile, than a blue whale much too large for the room that for some reason missed the sensation of falling, and then a very surprised and panicked looking pink griffon before becoming, with a mental sigh of relief, a bowl of petunias once more. It liked being a bowl of petunias. Life was simpler that way. “Short Stack!” Discord said, a lightbulb snapping into place above his head. He paused, looked at it for a moment, then plucked it from the air. If memory could be trusted now that it was jogging, last night’s unexpected cleaning had pointed out that one of the lights in the hall had quit working. Now he had a replacement. “You were saying?” The reflection had to wave the sign before Discord noticed it, and he nodded, tossing the lightbulb out into the parlor with backwards wave. He could always make another. “Right,” he said, looking at the mirror once more. “As I was saying, pancake pony said I should be there early, so I’d better get going! Wish me luck!” The reflection nodded, this time giving him two claws up and then turning and walking out of the frame, already pulling out a newspaper and a pipe. “Hey!” Discord said, pausing his exit from the bathroom just long enough to tap the glass. “You know the rules. No smoking in the mirror. Just bubbles. The candy clouds fog the glass, and you know I hate cleaning it.” His reflection stuck his head back into the frame just long enough to roll his eyes, but then, obligingly, puffed a few bubbles out of—and then back into—his pipe. “Good,” Discord said, nodding as he walked out of the bathroom. “Good.” He took a quick look around, but there wasn’t much else he could do to put off leaving. There was no getting around it. “Well …” he said, stepping up to the front door. “Barring any last-second disaster, catastrophe, ancient evil reawakening or getting out, or summons by irate alicorns, this is it! Off to the orphanage …” Paw on the handle, he took a long look around the room, a curious, almost expectant look on his face. “Oh come on!” he shouted at the empty room. “That almost always works! Darn Murphy! Never around when you need it!” He tugged the door open, ignoring the shocked cries of nearby ponies as he stepped out of a mailbox, and then stomped down the street, his tail lashing behind him. * * * “Wow.” The off-white unicorn mare at the entrance to the orphanage stared up at Discord, her jaw hanging slightly slack. After a moment she composed herself, giving her head a little shake. “They weren’t kidding. You really are Discord.” “Present, past, and future,” Discord said, holding a paw to his chest. “The one and only.” “Wow,” the mare said again. “And here I thought the staff were just hazing me.” There was a soft snap as she popped her gum. “Well, they weren’t,” he replied, crossing his arms. “So … do I get to come in?” “What?” the mare asked, giving him a confused look. Then her mind appeared to catch up with her, and she gave her head a quick shake, her violently-pink mane bouncing. “Oh, yeah, sure!” she took a step back, waving for him to come inside with one hoof. “Come on in, and I guess I’ll get you set up!” “Set up?” he asked as the mare turned and began trotting deeper into the house, guiding him a direction he hadn’t been before. “Yeah,” she said, giving him an embarrassed glance. “I was actually so sure that Ms. Rose was putting me on, I kind of didn’t bother getting anything ready.” “Ready?” “Yeah,” she said with a flick of her tail. “No big deal, though. Stuff’s all in the supply closet. I think.” “What kind of stuff?” “Scrapers!” she said, her voice bright and cheerful. “You’re going to be working in the south end. Part of the reason the place needs so many extra hooves these days is because they’ve been trying to renovate the southern wing. It needs it pretty bad, but there isn’t much in the budget for extra hired help.” “So they appealed to the crown for aid?” Discord asked as the mare came to a stop in front of a closet door. “Yup! Got it in one,” the mare said, her horn lighting with a teal glow as she opened it, revealing a selection of tightly packed shelves packed with random assortments of tools, housekeeping implements, and what looked suspiciously like several confiscated whoopi cushions. “They need all the hooves they can get. Er,  umm …” “It’s fine,” Discord said, lifting one of his hind legs and tapping it on the floor. “I have the one. So I count.” “Oh, okay,” the mare said, giving him a weak grin before ducking her head back into the closet. “Anyway, yeah, Ms. Rose is looking for all the help she can find to get the south wing done before winter, since it’s cheaper to keep warm than the upstairs is. Plus, it’s a bit more spacious for the kids, you know?” Something deep in the closet rattled, shifting, and the unicorn pulled her head out, her horn glowing as she tugged at something deep in the back of the closet. “Aha!” she said. “I knew Stacks said they were in here …” There was a bang as something deep inside the closet shifted. A moment later a small, metal can filled with tools floated out of the back of the closet, wrapped in a teal glow. “Got ‘em!” “So,” Discord said, plucking the can out of the air as the mare floated it over to him. “I suppose this has something to do with what I’m doing today?” The mare nodded, her gum snapping again with a sharp crack. “Yup. This way.” She turned and trotted further into the house, and with a shrug he followed. Around them, the house began to look older, the wood more worn, the paint faded and chipped. Light fixtures hung by wires, or in a few cases, were missing entirely. “Okay,” his guide said as she rounded a corner and stepped, her hooves ringing out against bare wood as the carpet came to sudden, screeching halt. “This is it.” A long, wide hallway stretched down the side of the house in front of them, dirty, smudged windows still letting in enough morning sunlight that Discord could clearly pick out the marks all along the floor and walls where gradual construction had been taking place. “So, whatcha need to do,” the mare said, tilting her horn towards the collection in his paw. “Is take one of those scrapers from the can.” “This?” Discord asked, plucking one of the battered tools out of the container. It looked like a spade, with a long, flat blade perpendicular to its handle. “Yup! That’s the one! So, you need to take that tool there, and scrape it along the wall here,” she said, tapping the outer wall of the hallway. “The varnish needs to be scraped off the whole wall. Once that’s done, the wall can be sanded and a new layer put on.” “I’m familiar with the process,” he said dryly, eyeing the tool in his talons. “And I do this—?” “With your paws,” she replied. “Ms. Rose was really specific about that. None of your chaos magic or whatever it is you do.” “Of course,” he said, already feeling an ache in his talons. “Why would she say otherwise?” “Don’t ask me,” the mare said, shrugging. “I mean, if I had to guess, probably because of how you warp everything, you know? Probably why she has you out in the wing here, rather than working somewhere else. Still needs to be done, though, so …” Her words trailed off, and then she gave her head a quick shake. “If you’re good, I’ll just leave you to it and get back to class?” “You’re not staying to help?” he asked. “Nope.” His guide gave her head another rapid shake. “I’m just here as part of the volunteer program, three days a week.” She took a quick look up and down the hall. “Anyway, good luck! It looks like there’s a lot for you to do! Should keep you busy for a couple of days at least!” She turned and began to trot down the hall, her hooves ringing against the wood. “And if I get done?” Discord called after her. “Start sanding,” the mare called back. “The whole wall! And be sure to put the tools back in the closet at the end of the day; Rose told the kids to stay out of the south wing, but better not leave them finding them to chance!” Then she was out of sight, her pink, short-cut tail whipping around corner after her and leaving him alone with his thoughts. So, he thought as he stared down the hall. Using this … tool … I need to scrape all of the varnish off of the wall, here. He ran his eyes down the long hallway, counting each window as it passed. Six windows, about ten feet between each window, and this tool is only … four inches wide. Lovely. He took another long look at the hallway. And no magic, he thought. Figures. All it would take was a snap of his claws. A few quick changes. Maybe turn back time for the wood, make it younger and younger until it was freshly varnished once more. Or just mess with the bonds between the coating and the wood so it fell off in one, easy moment. Or even just make it vanish entirely. It wouldn’t take much energy at all. And while the trickle that he gained from it as the universe asserted itself would be just as slight, the expenditure would be worth it. Except … He lowered his talons. Except it wasn’t what he was supposed to do. He was supposed to aid the orphanage however they asked. And both his instructions now and the instructions he’d been given the day before both had agreed on the same thing: none of his magic was to be used in carrying out his assignment. Normally that wouldn’t have stopped him. But normally he didn’t have Luna and Celestia breathing down his neck. Three days, he thought, once more turning his attention to the tool he’d been given. Three days. Three days of working like a mortal. He scowled. Maybe that’s what Celestia and Luna were counting on. Three days of me slaving away like some “normal” being so I can learn what it’s like. He stepped over to the wall, lifting the scraper in one paw and setting the bladed edge against the wall. It’s not enough that that whole mess with Tirek left me drained, almost powerless. They want me to live life that way for a while. Well, I’ll show them. He gritted his teeth and pressed down and forward, forcing the blade along the wall with a harsh scratching sound that made the same teeth he’d clenched turn and stand on end. This’ll be ... He paused, pulled the scraper away. The varnish was scratched, a deep groove cut through it, but the wood was still some distance away. He eyed the tool for a moment, frowning. This is harder than it looks. * * * Lunch came and went, Prim Rose herself arriving to bring him a tray with some food on it so that he didn’t have to “Disturb anypony else by wandering through the orphanage.” He ate it politely, just the way he was supposed to, but he still didn’t miss her look of disapproval when the crackers got into a wrestling match on the edge of his soup bowl. Still, he wasn’t about to pick them up and dunk them in the soup himself. For starters, his paws felt half-raw, rubbed and chafed by the handle of the scraper he was using. The muscles kept firing on their own, clutching into strange shapes and contorted positions without his command. Besides, he wasn’t going to deny the wheat cracker a chance to get back at its more flowery rival. Even if it was a battle the wheat cracker lost. Once his lunch break was over, however, and the disapproving stares of Prim Rose gone along with the leftover dishes—which she hadn’t even let him take a small taste of—it was back to scraping the wall. By paw. Slowly. The varnish had been layered on over who knew how many years, so thick that each patch of the wall often yielded several strips of the sticky, yellowed stuff before giving way to wood, and the resulting flakes and flecks had an annoying tendency to get stuck in his fur. At first he took frequent breaks to pick the offending material out, but as the day stretched on and the amount of work ahead of him began to loom larger and larger, his stops gradually ceased, fading away into the endless scrape-lift-scrape of his tool. Thankfully, while he was forbidden from using his magic on the wall, he hadn’t been given any instructions whatsoever about how much attention he was supposed to pay to the task. Which was really the only thing that kept him from going sane. The constant lift-scrape-lift of the tool was sobering, but it was easy to replicate, making it simple to retreat to the safety and comfort of his own head. Provided he took a glance out of his eyes every so often to make sure he hadn’t done something by accident, he could pretty much freely leave his body to do its thing and occupy his mind elsewhere. Probably with a game of cards, though he hated playing blackjack against himself. He was fairly certain he was cheating somehow. And who’d ever heard of a deck where the Discord wasn’t the most powerful card in the game? He was halfway through a lucky streak when something made his ear twitch, and he darted to the control board, for a moment wondering if he’d gone too far and perhaps hit a window frame. But a quick look through his eyes showed that his body was still moving along as normal, the window frame still a few feet ahead of him. So it wasn’t that. Then it came again, a faint clatter of hoofsteps that barely reached his ears, so quiet that even straining, he could barely hear them. Someone in another room? he wondered as he called himself to a halt. The world around him snapped back into focus as he took full control, sensation and awareness returning to him. Along with a nice cartload of pain, carted up his arms by what felt like a whole stampede of alicorns. It hit him like a thunderbolt, his fur standing on end, and for a moment all thoughts of sound were forgotten as he stared down at his pained paws, flexing them and letting out a silent “ow” that floated up towards the ceiling before popping with a faint hiss. Maybe some of Fluttershy’s friends are right, he thought as he stared down at his limp, noodle-like digits. I am a little on the scrawny side. The noise came again, his ear twitching and then leaping off of his head at the sound. He turned, watching as the now-independent body part sniffed at the air, twisting and turning this way and that as it searched for the source of the noise. Then a loud thump from up the hall caught its attention, a door slamming open, and he quite clearly heard the stamp of trotting hooves making their way across the wooden floors. Discord snapped his claws, summoning his ear back to his head and away from whatever it had been pointing at. It reattached itself just as the tan unicorn he’d met the day before, the one with the syrupy sounding name, walked into the hall. “Hey,” he said, tossing his head slightly, almost as if he wanted to draw attention to the long, narrow horn jutting out from under his mane. “Prim Rose wanted me to come let you know that’s probably good enough for today. You can head home … or whatever it is you do if you don’t have one of those.” His dry tone made it clear which he thought was more likely. “You wound me. I have a lovely home,” Discord said, holding a paw to his chest as he gave the unicorn what he hoped was a somewhat sincere smile. Stacks took a step back. Perhaps there had been too many teeth. “I’ll have you know that it’s practically perfect in every way.” “Right,” Stacks said, suddenly looking elsewhere. “Well, you can head there now. Or wherever. You’re done here for the day.” His eyes seemed to fix on the wall, and then nodded. “That what you managed to get done?” he asked, pointing his horn at the portion of the wall that was clear of varnish. “That?” Discord asked, his voice completely deadpan as he pointed at the clear patch. “No, that was done when I got here. I removed the carpet.” To his credit, Stacks caught himself before he glanced completely down. “Anywho,” Discord said, reaching out and hanging the scraper on the wall. Stacks glared at him, and he shrugged. Prude. All I did was stick it there. Still, if he insists … The tool came free with a light pop, and he set it on the nearest windowsill before giving Stacks a pointed glance. “Better?” he asked. The unicorn nodded. “Good,” Discord said. “Now if you’ll just show me the way out—You know what?” he said as Stacks began to turn. “Nevermind. I’ll find my own way.” He reached out with one sore, stiff paw, and after a few false attempts, managed to snag a ripple in the air. With a sharp, downward tug it opened, unzipping and forming a direct pathway to a location that, while not his house, was closer zorth-wise than Full Futures was. “So long,” Discord said, stretching his neck out as his body moved through the portal, his head staying in place. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He narrowed his eyes into slits, then with a loud crash of harps, snapped his head back to his body, the rift sealing behind him. From there, it was just three quick backward hops toward home. * * * “Oh yeah.” Discord stretched his paws further, the soapy water around them boiling. “That hits the spot.” He let out a sigh of relief and leaned back as the aching in his paws faded slightly, soothed by the rolling fluid. Then he paused. “And that means ... “ He glanced down at the pan he was resting his swollen talons in. “That means I should probably thank Rarity for this gift.” Him. Thanking ponies. What was the world coming to? “What’s next?” he groused, lifting one of his paws and staring idly at it. “Holding hooves? Singing duets? In public?” He let out a snort, sending a jet of steam three feet across the room. Not likely. Mortals would probably never change. Oh sure, there was Fluttershy and a few of her friends, but on the whole, what was ever going to change? He was the reality warper, the one whose magic was “wrong.” A few sing-alongs weren’t going to change any— A chorus of knocks at his door, almost sounding out a whole melody, pulled him from his thoughts, and he turned, staring in surprise at the entryway. Who would be knocking here? he wondered. And how did they even get here? The knocking came again, eight crisp, rapid raps against the wood. Maybe it’s Filly Scouts, he thought, pushing the pan he’d been soaking his paws in away as he rose from his hammock, walked off of the wall and headed toward the door. Selling cookies. It seemed unlikely, but then again, he’d heard stories … And if Pinkie Pie had been one of their number, well … The knocks sounded again, though less insistent this time. Which meant that he needed to hurry. The more patient they got, the longer whoever was on the other side had been waiting. But if he made it there quickly enough … He tugged the door open, sticking his head out and almost getting a face full of hoof in return for his efforts. “Hello?” “Discord!” Princess Celestia said, her eyes wide with surprise. The hoof in front of his face lowered, settling towards the ground with a graceful tap. “I was about to knock.” “I know,” he said, lifting one eyebrow. “That’s why I answered the door. That knocking was getting patient.” “I … see.” To her credit, the look of confusion on the alabaster alicorn’s face didn’t last long, fading away to the more neutral look of peaceful serenity she usually displayed. “Well, it is fortunate that you were home to answer it, then.” She smiled at him, but then it faded. “Though I’m afraid I don’t come with the best of news.” “Oh?” He cocked one eyebrow, a small click-clack sounding through the air. “So this isn’t just a social visit to experience my roguish charm, then?” “No,” Celestia said, her multi-hued mane rippling as she shook her head. Behind it he caught glimpses of what he recognized as her personal office from the castle. I may need to rethink the coordinates of my home, he thought. It’s getting far too easy for anyone there to open a way to here. That was the risk you ran with a multidimensional home, of course. The more frequently you pushed through the bubble between realms, the thinner the wall became and the easier it became to make a connection near that same point. Maybe I should go back to the way I had things during The Breaking, he thought. Get a hidden exit somewhere. He could think about it later. For now, Celestia was fixing him with what appeared to be a stern expression. “—nor is this a social call,” Celestia said, though her expression momentarily softened after she said it. “Well, perhaps a little social.” “I’d agree,” he said, leaning against the doorframe and making sure to keep his paws out of sight. “After all, you could have just called. In any case … why are you here.” Celestia let out a sigh. “A complaint was just delivered to me.” He stiffened. “From a Miss Prim Rose, manager of the Full Futures orphanage?” Lovely. “What was she unhappy about?” “She said that you were using your magic on the premises despite specific instructions not to.” “Uh-huh.” He knew he could be more colloquial, but with his paws aching the way they were, he just couldn’t find the heart for it. Perhaps the organ had hidden again, somewhere down near his kneecaps. “And which use did she take issue with?” “So you admit that you did?” Celestia asked. “I—!?” he sputtered. “Of course I did!” he said, Celestia stepping back as the words leapt from his mouth hissing in the air. He frowned and then waved them away, forcing his emotions back under control. “But I didn’t violate the orders I was given. I was told not to use my magic on the building or in doing any of my tasks.” Celestia frowned. “Then what did you do?” “I animated a few crackers at lunch! Big deal!” He waved his paws in the air, barely noticing the way the princess's eyes snapped to them. “The crackers enjoyed their little wrestling match! It was my lunch; I figured it wouldn’t be a problem! And the only other thing I did was open a way home, and I made sure that didn’t leave a mark on any ethereal flows or anything.” He brought his paws back down, ignoring the pain in them as he rested them on his hips, glowering at the solar diarch. “So that didn’t affect their precious building or reputation either. So there.” “Discord …” Celestia said, her voice quiet. “Are your paws—?” “Sore? Almost bloody?” He lifted one of them. “Of course. They have me doing manual labor.” “I see.” The serene mask was back in place once more, though there was something else behind it—likely hidden to most … but then most didn’t have the millennia of experience he did. Was it … anger? No, dissapointment. “Yes, I followed their rules, and this is what I got,” he said, scowling. “Sore paws.” “I would feel worse for you, Discord,” Celestia said. “But I know that you’re fully capable of simply waving such injuries away.” “Yes, well if I did that, I wouldn’t have a chance to make use of the soaking pan Rarity gave me … though she probably expected me to use it for my hoof.” He rolled his eyes. “In any case, hurry up and get with the chastisement already so I can get back to my soak.” “You’re mistaken, Discord,” Celestia said. “I have no interest in chastising you. Or offering a rebuke.” “I …” He paused, his jaw dropping. “You … don’t?” Celestia sighed, turning away for a moment. “Discord,” she said, her voice quiet and, however impossibly, more serious. “If I am to engage in such a course, it must be within reason. And I find no reason for that in this case. Which, if I may be honest, is what I expected when I summoned your door. I merely wanted to gain your perspective on the matter so that I could be certain that if action was required, it was built on more than a baseless assumption.” “You’re trying, Discord,” Celestia said, her eyes locking with his in that stern, teacher-like look he remembered all too well. “More than most are giving you credit, I believe. And if you are trying to change, then so should I.” “I’m always changing,” he said, crossing his arms. “It’s what I am.” “That’s not what I meant …” Celestia said. “But you know that.” Once again there was that soft smile. “I apologize if, based on my past treatment of you, my coming here was seen as accusatory. I only wanted to hear your side of the story.” Well, that’s surprising. “I …” What would Fluttershy say in this situation? “Thank you?” Celestia nodded. “In turn, I fear I must apologize for the behavior of the ponies working at the orphanage. Their treatment of you, from what I was told and from what you have said, is far from what it should be.” He offered her a shrug, then took it back and donned it across his shoulders when she didn’t move to accept it. “It’s not your fault,” he replied. “It’s just the way things are.” “No, Discord,” Celestia said, her smile fading slightly. “It is my fault. They learned it from somewhere.” “It was a long time ago, Celestia,” he said, stepping back and lifting one paw to the door. “And not something I really wish to dwell on at the moment. Especially as my bath is probably waiting for me by now. And if I don’t go to it, it’ll come looking for me, and it leaves such a mess when it does that. And always on the nice carpet.” “If I may, Discord?” Celestia’s words brought a halt to his shutting of the door. “Thank you. It takes moral strength to answer disdain with patience and forbearance … even if it is under a little bit of duress. I’m sorry for the way the orphanage has treated you, but if you wish to call a halt to your assignment …” “Are you joking?” He stepped forward once more, noting that, to her credit, the solar demigod didn’t twitch. Much. “I wouldn’t dream of it!” “I …” Celestia’s puzzled expression was one he would cherish for some time. “You wouldn’t?” “Of course not!” He gave her a wide smile. “Your coming here tonight tells me something: That it burns that poor orphanage manager to see me walking the halls of her institution … but she’s as hoof-tied as I am! Which means every minute I spend there, a competent and docile servant, is a minute of sweet, sweet, torture for Miss Prim Rose.” “That’s …” Her expression had switched to one of worry now. “I wasn’t insinuating—” “Oh, thank you, Celly,” he said, cutting her off with a smile. “I think you’ve just given me what I need to make it through the next two days!” He winked. “And now, if you don’t mind, I think I hear my bath calling. Goodnight!” He shut the door before she could respond, a grin etched across his face. Well, he thought. That should make her think twice. Then again, her words had struck pretty close to where he thought his heart was hiding, not that he’d shown it. And for all his bluster, he wasn’t positive that knowing how bothered the orphanage staff were really was something that would get him through the next two days, or even something that was worth celebrating. But … “Bah!” He shook his head, the thoughts scattering around inside his mind. By the time they reformed, he’d be soaking in a warm tub of chocolate, too relaxed to care. He’d worry about tomorrow tomorrow.