Chapter Thirteen: “I said mmbbllrgrglbrelrbm!”
After I sober up, and Runway finds something on TV she doesn’t want to yell at, we kind of just sit around for a while. I mean, it’s not exactly quiet cause my sister is here, but it’s not busy. Really she just kind of fills the silence.
“So then I was talking to this other model about how like, those bedsheets are both super pretty and super sexy, cause it’s all, ‘Hey big boy, I brought the bed to you’, kinda thing. Which I think was like, the point or whatever? The curtains I was wearing were kinda itchy around the collar so I was a little distracted, but you have to hold your head almost to the frickin’ ceiling when your on the runway cause you want to look like you own the room, or whatever, so it was easy to walk with all that, you know? Anyway...” and she goes on like that for a while. Between her babbling and the TV, I’m pretty well occupied.
Of course, I still have to have a relatively important discussion with her, that I’d been putting off, but that involves both doing things and getting a word in edgewise. Not sure which one sounds more difficult right now. “Hey Runway?”
“Hmm?”
Apparently the doing things part. “So, I wanted to talk to you.” I tear my eyes away from the TV to give her my full attention, and she’s staring at me, wide-eyed. “...what?”
“You’re using the ‘mom’ voice,” she says shakily. “Did… did I do something wrong?”
“What? No! I just… ok, so I’ve been wondering. I mean, we see each other maybe twice a year. Like, two days a year. Then all of a sudden your muzzle is under my door and you’re here for like a week with no signs of stopping. So I gotta ask… what the fluff?” I sit up straight, trying to show her I’m taking this conversation seriously.
“Whaddya mean? Can’t I just like, hang with my favorite sis?” she asks with a smile that’s maybe an inch too wide.
“I’m your only sis.”
She waves a hoof at me. “Oh pffft, like that matters. I just wanted to spend time with you!”
“Runway?”
“Yeah?”
I sigh, feeling my shoulders slump. “Runway, you’re using the ‘dad’ voice. Out with it.”
This time it’s her turn to sigh. She deflates pretty hard, and sinks into the couch. “I think… I think I’m gonna quit the modeling business.”
“Bu-wha?! But you love being a model! You’re all about wearing whatever newest thing is and traveling everywhere and being all sexy and stuff!” I’m all surprise and shock and awe right now. It’s like hearing Rainbow Dash saying she doesn’t want to be a Wonderbolt. Or… me saying I don’t want to be a Wonderbolt.
She flops dramatically to the side, stretching across the couch like a cat. Her legs end up on my back. “Yeah, but it’s like, there’s so much yelling, you know? And crying, and moving around, and I have to go to the gym like all the time. I swear the only reason I can keep my weight down with all these carps is because I sweat it all out before I even digest it.” I feel a slight twinge of justice at that. “But everypony’s just so… mean, or sad. There’s no fun anymore! It’s all boring and crappy and I don’t get to see anypony anymore. Plus they get me to do like photoshoots and ads and stuff for a bunch of crap I don’t even use. I had to do a photo shoot for lawn mowers, Dusty! Lawn mowers. I DON’T EVEN HAVE A LAWN!”
I raise an eyebrow at my sister, the drama queen. “Don’t you have like a big-ass house up in Canterlot or Manehattan or whatever?”
“NO! I don’t have a house, or an apartment, or anything! I’m never in the same place LONG enough! I mean, do you have any idea how hard it was to get my manager to let me take this vacation? I don’t even GET Vacation days!” She looks honestly distressed. Which is almost new, if she wasn’t like this the entire time we’d been growing up. Well, not all the time. She usually just saved it for really big things. Like getting dumped. Or being told to go to bed.
I rub the back of my head with my hoof, and bite my lip. I know what I want to say, what I probably should say, but I can’t bring myself to say it just yet. So instead I say, “So… why come here?” She rolls over onto her stomach, and grumbles something into her pillow. “What?”
“I said mmbbllrgrglbrelrbm!” she pouts. “Look, I called mom and dad, and told them all of this, but all I got out of dad was his famous ‘quitters’ speech, and mom just told me it’s a ‘phase’, that I don’t ‘really’ want to quite.”
I nod with a grimace. “Yeah, that’s our folks all right. Well, look,” I start. Oh my Celestia, just say it you nancy! “If, uh… if you need a place to stay, I mean, I do have a little bit of room. Less so with all that stuff you brought me-”
She moves so quickly that I don’t have time to process the immense sense of regret and foreboding that has arisen in me. She tackles me in a big hug, and cries into my shoulder. “Dusty! You’re just the best. The best! Love youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!”
I sigh, and pat her shoulder with my one free hoof. “Love you, too. Now, let’s talk rent.”
Runway freezes.