Sassy Saddles plunked down into her seat. Rarity took the one opposite, her back to the barstools, strands of her mane escaping their tight confinement and bristling at random.
They ordered glasses of wine, but neither had the energy to produce more words than it took to do so, not after that hectic workday. Until some conversation floated over Rarity’s shoulder.
“There was this one diamond-flanked mare from a forgettable town. She shamelessly threw herself at me, of course, right there at the Gala, in front of everypony!”
Rarity snapped a glare at the stallion behind her, and as the waitress returned, Rarity said, “One piece of cake. Your cheapest.”
When it arrived, Rarity immediately ground it into Blueblood’s mane. He bolted upright, then squinted at her. “You! I should have known better than to come here among the riffraff and wage slaves.”
The waitress smirked at Rarity. “Another?”
“Please.”