You step out of the train, stretching your cramped legs as you walk. Pinkie skips out behind you, humming a familiar tune. It's the same one she was humming when she broke into your house to make you breakfast.
You can't help but smile a bit when she takes the lead, weaving through the small crowd of ponies with her eyes closed. Once you're both out in the open, you poke Pinkie's flank to get her attention.
"Glad to see you can walk now," you smirk.
Pinkie freezes in place, balancing precariously on one leg. She looks back briefly before collapsing to the ground. "Oh no, I have fallen down," she says in monotone. "I am in so much pain. If only I had a tall, handsome goober to carry me..." She finishes her little performance with a meaningful glance at you, complete with shimmering baby blues and a pout that punches you twice in the gut.
Barely managing to not fall over, you kneel down next to the poor, crippled pony, gently resting a hand on her side. "Don't worry, Pinks," you say, rubbing her soft fur. She smiles up at you sweetly. It's almost enough to make you reconsider what you're about to do. Almost. "You wait right here. I'll come back for you later." Her face drops into a blank expression, and she blinks slowly a few times in confusion.
Struggling not to laugh at her expression, you stand up, pick a direction, and start walking. You have no idea where you're going, but hey, something something journey, something something destination, right? You're pretty sure Plato said that, or maybe Einstein. Regardless, it's a solid piece of advice to follow.
You make it about seven steps before something soft and squishy lands on your back. It was six more steps than you expected, honestly. Oh well, the freedom was nice while it lasted. At least the back of your neck is now somewhat protected from the evil rays of the sun.
"Why didn't you pick me up?" Pinkie scolds, lightly bonking you on the top of your head.
"I was going to look for a goober to help you."
"You're the goober, goober!" she grumbles, giving you an angry hug from behind. It's like a normal hug, but angry.
"Oops," you say with a small laugh. "You said handsome, so I figured-"
"What?!" Pinkie gasps. "How could you even say that? You're like the most handsomest guy ever! When's the last time you looked in a mirror?"
Every single day, and it never looks any better. "This morning, I think."
"Then you've been looking at mirrors the wrong way!"
It's kinda cute that she wants you to feel good about yourself, but there's really no need. You're literally the best-looking person in the entire world. You're also the worst-looking, but it's not like the ponies can tell either way.
"Seriously Nonny, we need to fix this!" A pink hoof pokes into your vision, pointing at a wide restaurant window. "Look at your reflection."
You give an exasperated sigh, but decide to humor her anyway. Walking over, you see a few chairs and tables behind the window, but thankfully no one inside that could look at you looking at yourself. "M'kay. What now?"
"Tell me you don't see the cutiest patootie with the most adorable widdle eyes and a widdle button nose," Pinkie coos, poking your cheeks.
What. "Are we looking at the same thing?"
"I wasn't done yet! I see the world's most huggable teddy bear who wants to cuddle but doesn't want to admit it because he's a grump. I see-" She suddenly gasps. "Ohmygosh we match!"
Thank the pony gods for Pinkie's short attention span. You were starting to feel awkward as fuck. Do ponies see you the same way you see them? That might explain why they're usually so friendly to you, even when you just glare at them because you're awful at talking.
But what did Pinkie just say? Something about a match? "Sorry, what was that?"
"Look!" Pinkie gestures emphatically to the window. "Rarity made your thingies colored like me so we match!" Her near-permanent smile grows wider as she squeezes you again, a strange squeaking noise coming from her mouth.
Your thingies? Does she mean your clothes?
Looking back at the window, you take note of the pink vest and light blue bow tie. Huh. How did you not notice that before? Maybe you really have been looking at mirrors wrong. But why would Rarity want you and Pinkie to match, anyway? That just seems like unnecessary work. You'll never understand fashion.
"Yeah, you're right. Weird."
"Of course, silly! I'm always right! Except for that one time I was left, but we don't talk about that. Ever."
"Talk about what?"
"Yes."
You have no response for that, so you start walking down your original path. You pray Pinkie doesn’t start baby talking to you again, because that was just plain embarrassing. You hope no one was around to hear her.
Actually, now that you think about it, you haven't seen that many ponies out and about since the train station. If Canterlot is such a big and important city, where is everyone?
"Pank?"
"Yyyyeeeees?"
"This place seems kind of empty."
"Well, duh! Everypony's in the shopping district right now."
Aren't you supposed to be in the shopping district, too? "...Ah, okay."
Pinkie rests her head on your shoulder with a happy sigh, her breath tickling your skin. "We're going the wrong way, you know," she eventually says.
Fuck. "I knew that," you lie. "I was seeing how long it would take you to notice."
"Mhm." You have a strange feeling she doesn't believe you. "Take a right near that piece of gum on the ground."
You take a right at the gum, but not because she told you to—you were planning on going that direction anyway. Your backpack/GPS whispers a few more directions into your ear, and you dutifully follow them until you find yourself walking along a wide cobblestone road.
This area is much more busy. The various ponies here don't even notice you, and it doesn't take long to realize why. Most of them have their noses pointed almost vertically, their eyes only open enough to see where they're going. The few ponies that aren't trying to sniff their foreheads are giving you odd looks. Not mean ones, just... odd. For the most part, they simply look at you, look at Pinkie, and then continue on their horsey way. But then one of them approaches with a small smile on his face.
It's an old unicorn stallion with a fancy top hat. He steps directly into your path, forcing you to stop. When you try to step around, his smile grows and he stands on his hind legs, reaching out to hug you around the waist.
You tense up, wondering what the hell is going on. You have no idea who this guy is or why he's hugging you. Sure, he’s fancy, but you’d prefer not to be touched by a stranger.
"Um... Hi?" you say, not returning the hug.
The stallion doesn't respond aside from chuckling to himself. He lets go after a few seconds, adjusts his top hat for optimal fanciness, and walks away as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.
"Pinkie? What just happened?"
"You got a hug, silly!" she laughs.
"Okay... Right."
You aren’t able to make it ten feet before you're approached by another unicorn, this one a mare. The exact same thing happens: smile, awkward hug, walk away. The strange and uncomfortable event repeats another four times before your brain finally says hold the fuck up. You don't know any of them, they almost certainly don't know you, so why are they hugging you?
"Okay, seriously. What the hell is going on?"
"What do you mean, Nonny?" You can hear the innocent smile in Pinkie's voice.
"Is this some pony thing? Is it normal for strangers to hug you?"
"What's wrong with hugging strangers?"
Yeah, you're just gonna ignore that. "It's just... you know, weird. I don't like it."
"Oh. Soooo, should I put the sign away, then?"
You stop in your tracks. "Wait, what? What are you talking about? What sign?"
"This one!" Pinkie shoves a large, white square in front of your face. "I got it laminated," she says with a hint of smugness in her voice.
You take the sign and hold it away from your eyeballs so you can actually read it. It's blank, but the lamination is pretty nice. Flipping it over, you see four words emblazoned dead center in bright orange font:
FREE HUGS
(extra warm!)
Goddammit, Pinkie. "Why?"
"Sharing is caring, and I care about you a whooooole lot!" As if to prove this, she plants a quick kiss on your cheek, trying and failing to stifle her giggles.
Your face heats up faster than The Flash in bed and hotter than your neighbor's mom. You did not expect that. Is it another pony thing, like rubbing faces together? Although, some people on Earth would kiss their friends on the cheek, so maybe you're overreacting. Hell, kissing is a greeting in some countries, right? Yeah, it was only a kiss. A friend kiss. On your face.
"Hellooooo? Nonny? You okay?"
"Y-yeah, I’m fine. It's just a bit hot. Outside. The air is hot. Just a little." Jesus, what the fuck, brain? Either make good words or stop pretending to be useful.
"Uhh... Do you need to sit down?" Pinkie sounds worried now.
“No, I’m fine. What store do you wanna go in?"
Pinkie doesn't say anything at first, probably wondering why she's friends with such a sperglord. "Mmm, how about that one?" she offers, pointing to a small building with a sign above the door reading, "Nick's Knacks.”
"That one it is," you say, walking over to the cozy-looking shop. You could care less what they sell, you just want to get out of the heat.
"Hi, howyadoin, welcome to Nick's Knacks!" a large, gravel-voiced stallion waves from behind the counter at the back.
"Hi!" Pinkie waves back. "I'm Pinkie Pie!"
"And I need to use the bathroom," you interject, gently lifting Pinkie off your back. She makes a small whine of protest, but doesn't fight you.
You find the bathroom, lock the door, and try to cool down by splashing some water on your face. It doesn't work. The spot on your cheek where Pinkie kissed you burns, and no amount of water changes that. Does she use acid for lipstick or something? It's not painful, but...
You glance up at the mirror and see your pathetic reflection. Your face is flushed, dripping with water and sweat. Your breathing is shaky and uneven. You shouldn't be reacting like this. What the fuck is wrong with you?