//------------------------------// // We All Dinner Together At The Restaurant And May Skip Some Classes! I'm Sorry! // Story: Mares und Panzer // by re- Yamsmos //------------------------------// "Lily Pad is a dick!" Duck made a noise as if she'd choked which, honestly, wasn't too far a stone's throw from the truth. The noodle previously making its way down her throat resumed its task, albeit much more carefully now as Arco, looking her way, flashed his teeth after using them to bite on his lower lip. The sight of him catching sight of her caused her to instinctively turn her head. She stared at the school cafeteria's tile floor and almost didn't even hear Arco's apology. "Uh, sorry." SLAM! Already in the middle of voicing her own apology for causing Arco to make one, Duck flinched in her seat and went wide-eyed as she, the previously soup-slurping Graham, the homework-toiling Flurry, and the collar-fiddling Arco swiftly turned about to face Bluebell, whose right hoof was submerged in her leftover mashed potatoes from the previous night. Not even noticing—or maybe not even caring about—the scalding, microwave-induced heat, and the piece of a sullied spud now sliding down her sleeve, she grit her teeth and growled. "That brain-damaged, buck-toothed, sloppy-second son of a..." She seemed to take notice of Flurry's glare, and had the immense strength somewhere inside her to restrain herself. "...rrrr. Why won't she just listen?!" Duck, seemingly the only one to regard him, watched as a rather young-looking colt—probably a Freshman, or maybe even a Sophomore—apprehensively approached her and her friends' table from behind Bluebell, his cheeks tinted red, his eyes looking everywhere but the older ponies, and one of his hooves hiding something behind his backpack. Her own eyes, already wide from Bluebell's table beating, tried their hardest to grow even more. What was he about to do? He stopped just shy of actually touching Bluebell. Scratching his head and letting out a little chuckle, he began, "Um... hi, Bluebell!" Bluebell turned at her own name, and the frown on her face deepened incredulously. The colt noticed this, but, despite what Duck would probably do in a similar situation—such as bolt immediately, find the nearest trash can, and hide for as long as possible before somepony found her, which could probably end up being right around the closing hours of the school, and it would be a janitor, and he wouldn't really be pleased to see her, and then they'd have to tell the school that she'd missed all her classes in there, and she didn't think she was smart enough (actually no she definitely wasn't) to make up a quick, forseeably terrible excuse, and then she'd have to be called the Garbage Mare for the rest of the school year even though she already kind of called herself that already what was she oh yeah—merely coughed into a hoof, albeit reddening ever so slightly more. "H-How, uh, how are you tod–" Bluebell brought up her steamed potato-covered hoof and swept it out like an MG clearing a room... which threw most of its contents onto the nearby Flurry's book. Flurry, stopping the pencil in her magic's scribbling, simply bunched up her cheeks in a straight frown and stared at the big brown puddle now drenching her fourteenth History question. Duck, realizing that it was a History question just then, leaned over a bit, then sucked on her teeth and sat back in her seat. She didn't know much about ancient history, actually. Never her mind. "Hey, you little knucklehead! I'm talking to my friends here! Back off!" The colt craned his neck back, probably just on the edge of snapping it with his 262-like speed. A pair of colts looking about his age further back—most likely his friends awaiting his success or his failure, which, knowing Bluebell, was still kind of up in the air—puffed out their cheeks to try and stop themselves from bursting out into uproarious laughter. Duck frowned. That was really mean. The colt deserved better friends than that. "I-I-I was just... I just thought you'd..." He began to unveil whatever was behind his back, but his hoof was shaking so much that it refused to comply. Bluebell crossed her arms and sat up in her seat. Turning away, eyes shut, she harrumphed, "Hmmph. Implying you actually thought about me. Get out of my face." As if sensing the colt's lack of motion, she brought up one of her forelegs and flitted it about like some kind of King scurrying away peasants bowing at his throne. Is this what Haulin felt like? Or maybe the Kaiser Roll? "Shoo, shoo!" If there had ever been a closer mirror image of the way Duck felt she appeared whenever she was caught in literally any kind of social interaction—up to and including conversations, little waves, and two eyeballs darting her way—the colt was definitely up high on the list at this point. With beads of sweat—almost... way too much, like, in a worrying kind of sense—just pouring down his forehead, a shadow having passed over his eyes as he hunched over, and his whole body looking to be on the verge of collapsing, rolling over onto the spine, and suffering from rigor mortis like the Sixth, he worked his jaw around in a similar manner to a happily feasting cow, began a low whimper, and, instantly, turned heel and skittered away with a noticeably manly cry. Graham sneered at Bluebell, who simply shook her head, eyes still shut tightly. Duck watched as he went. The bouquet in his hooves made a three-point landing into the dumpster at the far corner of the cafeteria before its previous owner fled the scene entirely, his manic shouts still echoing as he blurred down the halls. She cringed, not just out of worry for his conscience, but also for the nurse, who would probably have another case on her hooves during an already busy week. It seemed that, ever since Duck had—earlier this week—bruised her knee rushing to school with a piece of burnt toast between her teeth (which she hated, because it meant she hadn't finished her bowl of cereal that morning, which she hadn't) and went to the nurse's office all glum, the room had seen quite a bit of activity that, while completely unrelated, still appeared to be a catalyst of some kind to the poor, poor old mare who now gave Duck the stink eye whenever she was around. Actually, now that she thought about, a lot of teachers seemed to be snippy around her, apart from the ones she saw on a day-to-day basis. Had the nurse seen something when she went through her files looking for Duck's history that she hadn't expected? Did she have Pony Pox? Did she have a disorder of some kind?! Oh Gods, was it a personality disorder?! Actually, no doctor! Wait, then what was it? There has to be something wrong with this young mare! Avast, your bottom: Stupidity! Duck coughed. She really hoped that nopony had just witnessed where her thoughts had just gone. That was... really weird. "Friends?" Arco asked smugly, with an elbow helping him leeeeean over to grin devilishly at Bluebell. Duck sat up straight, then began twiddling with her mane like usual to try and forget about her own head. Was it getting hot in here? One of Bluebell's eyes suddenly shot open. Her cheeks fumed. "F-friends?! What are you saying?!" She chuckled weakly, "Friends... why... why would..." "You literally just called your friends just now," Arco politely informed her. Flurry was still just staring at her foiled History paper. Graham, her face completely neutral, abruptly crinkled as she bunched up her shoulders, narrowed her eyes, beamed, and snorted loudly. "Guh! N-no! I was just...!" Bluebell looked to be hugging herself half to death. If this conversation kept up any longer, she'd probably end up doing so. Duck opened her mouth to voice this concern. "Please! N-not like I would even consider you guys as friends! P-please!" The table was quiet. Graham hid her amusement by Stuka-diving into her bowl of miso, which, after awhile, she grabbed with both hooves and raised into the air, slurping the last of it out before it went dry. Flurry was still just staring at her foiled History paper. Arco, sucking in both his lips as if he'd just ingested an entire lemon, looked around at the other occupants of the table for their own reactions. Duck gave him hers, which was to look away and pretend she wasn't visible to the naked eye. Oh Gods why did she just say naked...? SLAM! It was Flurry who jumped the highest this time, finally snapped out of her odd fixation. She glared the Pegasus' way and scrunched up her muzzle. "Dammit Graham!" Graham, only giggling at the curse, clutched her belly and licked her lips. Her bowl, bearing a noticeable crack along its exterior where it had just been thrown, sat empty in front of her. Her navy blue jacket's sleeves were marked with broth and whatever drink she'd ordered, having been wiped with the two time and time again in an unexplainable ignorance of the napkin perfectly folded right by her utensils, which had... also been neglected. Sighing, as if coming off a high of some kind, she finally remarked, "Yeah but you're totally right I hate Lily so much." "Did you hear what she said yesterday?" Arco asked casually, knowing full well who the insult had been intended for. The smirk on his face definitely helped her sleuthing. Bluebell scowled in an instant. "Calling me fat! That is the lowest of lows! I... I...!" She brought up both her forelegs and clenched the hooves, which now seemed to be shaking. Suddenly, they stopped, and instead shivered with renewed energy, and probably a lot of very angry thoughts. "Grrrr, I hate her so much!" Duck found her voice. "I do have to admit that her crew is a bit reckless..." All eyes were on her. Even Bluebell, though she shut hers to nod in considerable, almost much-too-energetic agreement. Honestly, if she'd said that Lily was a bathroom ghost just out of the blue, she felt that Bluebell would nod and shake a hoof in the air excitedly. "Their Tiger isn't built for speed, and while its armor is less the myth than its cannon, it's certainly much more dependable than any of our other tanks on the thickness front." "They think their tank's a friggin' race car!" Graham spouted, throwing up her forelegs and waving them about frantically. She honestly looked like one of those arm-flailing tube mares she'd seen outside some car dealerships. "You'd think they'd learn to dig down and defend after fighting Mrs. Red last week..." "Honestly, don't feel like they do a whole lot of learning..." Arco chimed in, laughing. "Trust me, she'd be up against a box of rocks and the box would go home with the prize money," Bluebell affirmed strongly. Graham wobbled a smile, quaking silently. "Not that Pine Needle and her crew are doing well either," Flurry said, closing her History book and beginning to shove her soiled paper into the nearby zip-up binder. Her name, twice spelled wrong, stood semi-proudly on the front. "I'm not sure what they're trying to do out there, but it's not working one bit." That was true. Even Duck had to admit that their tactic of dancing about with their Cruiser and not firing until they found themselves a better position—which was never, might she add—wasn't suitable for anything even remotely competitive. If anything, they'd get sniped from afar before they could even encounter an enemy combatant. Though they weren't too terrible when they did manage a shot off, the amount of time they'd take to fire combined with the caliber of shell they couldn't control anyway acted as a foil to an otherwise good team. "Think Busy Body and her team'll ever quit fighting?" Arco asked the table, awaiting an answer from any of their mouths. "Oh no," Graham went. "Hell no," cursed Bluebell. No, shook Flurry. Honestly, their vastly differing views on tank combat—as well as the current population, voting rights, metropolitan society, gun laws, foreign policy, and just shooting nukes at each other—probably wouldn't lead to any ripe fruits anytime soon. They constantly, nonstop, always argued and bickered during class, and especially during routines, to the point of stopping their SOMUA and not even moving an inch at all. "Just me, or do the nerds think their tank is a plane or something?" Graham piped up, doing the same as Arco and looking around the lunch table. Duck, her head beginning to hurt, decided to let this one out into public this time. "I've... noticed that too. I think they're using the Stuart like a..." She looked to her left and then to her right, and then to her left again, to make sure that neither Bit Rate, Autumn Leaves, Primrose, nor Plastic Beach were in sight, or even relatively around. She'd feel terrible for the rest of the year if she'd said something they could perceive as mean. "...dive bomber." As the fastest tank on the team, the Stuart was an outstanding Light Tank for reconnaissance and flanking, and yet, Bit's crew seemed to be content in flooring it and rushing targets, firing once they got within range, and then immediately fleeing left or right without even looking back at the damage they caused. While that could be a good tactic for a distraction, the lead-up to their actual shot was more than enough time for their opponent—no matter how skilled—to line up their own shot and take them out in a second of time. The Stuart might have actually been the most fragile tank on their team right now, both in armor and in gun, though strongly tied with the Cruiser on the former. She... couldn't disregard her own crew as well in the end, though. They may have been the closest things she'd ever had to friends in her life, but, when they were all sat up in the Comet during sixth period, they weren't without their respective faults. Arco hadn't really seemed to be getting the hang of leading targets, especially when faced with something fast like the Stuart or the Cruiser. His self-admitted lack of upper body strength—which he also claimed would have been broadened had he actually chosen the double bass like his mother before him—worked against him when it came time to rotating and elevating the Comet's 77mm cannon by its two cranks, and his short hindlegs also gave him trouble whenever he needed to hit the foot pedal to actually fire. To be honest, though, she couldn't see any better fit for the role of their Gunner no matter how lacking he was in the height department. In fact, she might have... actually had an advantage on that front. Like the freezing winter's cold in Yakyakistan versus the entirety of Griffonia's Verteidigungskraft. Flurry, time and time again, seemed to be falling asleep at the sticks, needing a poking from the nearby Graham or the discharge of one of their day's allotted shells to stir back awake and continue working again... only to clunk her head against the dash with enough force to crack her skull open. Duck had decided earlier this week to get a pillow and put it against the front of the Comet's Driver seat in case Flurry fell asleep, but it only served as a welcoming gesture to keep sleeping that Duck didn't have the guts nor the mindset to further explain and detest. However, she was certainly the best candidate for the position no matter how drowsy she was, and she was sure everypony else would agree. Graham, seemingly much too excited to actually be doing fairly well at speaking, relayed information to Duck and the rest of the crew at, also seemingly, the worst possible times, and much too quick and loud for anypony to actually make any heads or tails out of. Coupled with the accidentally discovered fact that Graham, in one other ear, was blasting show tunes while training, and also that she got distracted by her flashlight every twice in a while, the mouth to ear to mouth to ear of info, to head, to repeating, to listening ended up boggled up and, quite frankly, confused. Bluebell acted like she constantly had something to prove to the crew, even though they'd all unanimously accepted her behavior the week prior. She put every inch of effort into loading shells, throwing herself against the walls as the cannon fired, then breaking a few discs in her spine and possibly telescoping the whole thing to reload again before starting the whole process over again. And then, when they weren't firing the cannon—usually when they were first heading out for the period, or when their day's routine didn't require her—she was busy scribbling things with a sharpie on their shell casings that, purposely tucking them from her sight, Duck couldn't see. If Bluebell was drawing something, she'd at least like to see it so she could compliment her on it. As for herself, well... she could do well with raising her voice more... and not being so skittish about ordering ponies around... and not be so hesitant in doing the same to her own crew to the point of receiving expectant, silent stares that furthered her embarrassment and nervousness and probably called up some kind of terrible anxiety that acted like a weigh-in machine with answering on one end and trying to ignore them on the other and they both weighed about the same and she wasn't even sure she wanted to do either of them in the first place but if she didn't do one of them she couldn't very well lead her crew and then she couldn't very well lead her team and then thinking about that reminded her of what her mother had said and how much she'd cried that night in her bed and the look that her sister had given her and how she couldn't salute anymore and how she was terrible and stupid and ugly and shy and stupid and– CRRRKT! "Arco Piano, please come to the front office. Arco Piano, to the front office." BA-BUMP! CRRRKT! "Hell's that about?" Bluebell swore, tilting her head and looking away from Duck to stare at the aforementioned stallion. Duck had no doubt been making some odd face while trapped in her evil inner musings, and was probably a spectacle for the ages in a study on just how long a young mare could go without displaying any kind of sign that she actually alive and breathing. Arco screwed up his face. That's probably what she'd looked like, actually. "Might have an idea," he said, getting up and reaching for his bag. Flurry had already finished zipping up her own bags before Arco had finished his sentence, and was now waiting for Duck to join them before they all began trotting toward the front the school together. Graham, as well, was already all smiles and bouncing to and fro on her four hooves, her L-shaped flashlight swaying like a limp, sopping lamp cord. Bluebell, the last to get up as Duck adjusted her messenger bag's strap, nodded to them all, prompting Arco to begin the long—at least to Duck—walk to the front office from the cafeteria, which lasted all of about fifteen seconds or so. The amount of time notwithstanding, she still had the guts to despise the journey all the same. Every hoofstep they took felt wrong on her end, like she'd forgotten how to walk, re-learned it when she took her next step, then forgot again as her hoof made contact, and she was more than absolutely certain that every single eyeball in the main commons was ogling her way the entire time she spent stumbling idiotically across the room. By the time they actually reached the front office's doors, and Arco held it open for her as she entered, she felt tired beyond all belief and had to restrain herself from finding a table to hide under or a chair to fall into. While she hovered near the doors—much too worked up to move at this point—and occupied Flurry, Graham, and Bluebell who remained with her, she closed her eyes for a split second and suddenly bounced back awake. Oh Gods, she was suddenly tired now. She felt grateful to whatever greater power there was that the others hadn't noticed her dozing off, sure that she'd be receiving an admittedly hypocritical earful from Flurry, a teasing from Bluebell, and a stern arm crossing from Graham, and felt even more blessed as Arco, returning from the front desk, returned to them bearing an envelope in his mouth. As they all turned to face him, he spat the paper out and clutched it in a hoof before ripping the top off and pulling out what was inside. Unfolding the normal-sized, obviously hoof-delivered letter, he tugged at his bottom lip and read it quietly, its contents well away from Flurry's prying eyes and Graham's curiosity. And Bluebell's want of blackmail, too. He reached near the bottom, and his eyes went wide. Then he folded it up and put it into his bag without a word. Graham gave the others a suspicious look before feeling it silently approved. "What was it about?" she asked Arco. Arco shrugged. "Nothing really." Flurry took a step forward. Arco actually flinched from it. Duck... had too. "Is everything okay? Seems kind of urgent to have been sent here..." Arco coughed into a hoof, then closed the flap on his bag. "My, um, my mother's in the hospital for some–" "Oh my Gods!" Flurry gasped. "Is she okay?!" Graham boomed, almost tackling Arco and throwing her two forelegs onto his shoulders. "What happened?" Bluebell asked without any fuss. Arco's lips were in a frown. The others, realizing he was waiting for quiet, gave it to him. Behind them, from where only Duck could really see at this point, the old mare at the front desk was trying her hardest to not giggle and disturb the moment. "She's in the hospital for analysis, and I'm supposed to meet her and my father and have dinner afterward." "Analysis?" went Graham. Now Duck was actually kind of curious, now that the respecting of his privacy was off the table. "She had a... pretty bad illness a while ago," Arco replied, shaking his head as if to dispel some terrible thought. "She got better, but... she's just in there to make sure it's not back." With that, he reached a hoof up to push open the office doors, finishing, "I'll see you guys tomorrow," as he went. "I'll go with you!" Flurry sang, raising a hoof like she was answering a question in class. Arco turrrrrned on the spot. His face was flat. "You're serious." "Yeah!" Flurry replied, throwing both her hooves up now excitedly, "That way I could finally meet the parents of the grouchiest stallion alive!" Arco blinked. "I'll go too!" Graham beamed, her teeth a blinding white as she raised her own hoof. Arco, sensing more, buried his face in his hooves quietly. "I'll go and get a bouquet for her!" "A bouquet sounds nice," Duck barely heard from Bluebell next to her. Graham was upon it in an instant, not wanting to waste the opportunity. "Then you're with me!" "I didn't say anything," Bluebell defended, much louder this time. "Yeah you did," Graham affirmed. "Well..." Bluebell trailed off, looking away, then back again, "yeah. I said that I was glad I could skip fourth today." "Might be longer than that," Arco informed them with a tilt of his head and a shrug. "Fact, it'll probably go past two. Maybe even three or four. I'm usually there for some time." Graham turned to Duck this time. Duck suppressed the urge to bolt. "What about you, Duck? Wanna come with us and get a bouquet for Arco's mom?" Missing fourth, and then possible fifth and sixth? That would be... very irresponsible of her! "You sure we'd even get a pardon for those three classes?" Flurry wisely asked Graham, who immediately went to poking her chin with a hoof. "I know I am," Arco began, only for Flurry to tell him, "Shut up this doesn't concern you," at a rapid-fire pace that did what it entailed. "While I may not condone skipping..." began an unfamiliar voice nearby. The five all turned to look for it to find the old mare at the front office, who was leaning forward with an elbow. "...by acting as... moral support, you four can get out of your next classes as well. I understand the need for a shoulder to help you up far too personally. I'd be more than willing to assist you four." Graham clapped her hooves together in an instant. Duck found it more than a marvel that she hadn't jumped just then. "Perfect!" "Don't tell me it was really that easy," Arco droned to nopony. "It was really that– ah!" Flurry began playfully, only for Arco to immediately pounce and begin stretching her two cheeks far apart. With Flurry's babbling accompanying her, Graham began to think aloud. "I do have a test in my fifth period today, but I guess I could do better with another day of studying." Arco, still pulling at Flurry's cheeks, turned about to ask in a gravely, emotionless tone, "What were you doing all last night?" Graham made a very good mimic of Duck's usual pastime, turning away and making a loop with one of the locks of her mane as she giggled sheepishly, "T-talking to... ice-road truckers on my radio..." Bluebell's eyes would have slid out of their sockets, she'd rolled them so hard. Flurry, pushing Arco away, rubbed at her face absent-mindedly, "So it's settled then?" Duck tapped her front hooves together, eliciting little clip clops that sounded like a foal just learning to walk. She definitely couldn't skip her next three periods. They were starting a project in her fifth period Economics class, and now that she remembered it, they were taking a quiz in Pre-Calculus next period. On top of that, she couldn't afford to miss a day of Tankery, because, even though she hated the realization, they were due to take part in a match in the next couple of weeks against Gods know who, and the newly-birthed Horsepowers needed all the training time they could get. Mrs. Red would be really upset if she didn't attend class one day. Who would take lead in her place? As much as she talked, she kind of hoped that Pine Needle was granted co-leader. Bit Rate was too quiet and she didn't know her too well, Lily was loud and rude, and Busy Body didn't need the practice of leadership as much as she and her crew claimed. Then again... she was kind of stuck on a few problems of her AP Calculus homework... and she'd probably end up doing the project by herself anyway since both she and the rest of her class found her solo work in everyone's better interests... and, if she stayed behind to attend Tankery while her entire crew didn't, she didn't know who Mrs. Red would have her direct or join. If she was lucky, she'd sit out the training for the day, but then she'd have to watch the unguided team try to go through their hoops, and then they'd all get angry at Duck and her crew and hate her and want to fight her and she'd definitely lose that match-up and then she'd be all beat-up and sad and probably start crying in class and... ...ohGodsshereallyneededtogowiththem! "I'll go too!" She shouted, much too loud and probably at the top of her lungs. Graham clenched her teeth, an eye shut. Bluebell's eyes were wide. Flurry cocked her head. "Are you sure?" Before she could let her mind wander too horribly, Duck nodded. "I'm sure!" "Are you... sure you're in the right place?" The nurse, her cute little hat on her head, tilted her head and gave the three of them a frown from behind the desk. A nameplate atop the counter read Red Pill. The mare didn't look really red. Graham nodded vigorously, a determined look on her face. Bluebell, adamant that she'd be the one holding their bouquet, did the same. Duck struggled to follow. "What was her name?" Red Pill asked. Graham looked at her and Bluebell. "Her name is... oh Gods, what's her name?" "Uh..." Duck droned. "Last name! Last name!" Bluebell quipped. "Oh!" They all turned back to the nurse as one unit, probably frightening her with the unintended synchronization. She probably thought the three would ask her to play with them forever and ever and ever next. "Uh, last name Piano." Bluebell smacked her forehead. Red Pill flipped through a binder next to her. She reached the end. She went back the other way. She reached the... other end. "There's nopony named Piano in here." Graham looked to the ceiling and groaned loudly. The other ponies in the waiting room looked her way, brows raised. A few parents covered their charges' ears. They were effectively stumped. ... Wait. No, they weren't. Duck cleared her throat and, befitting the marvel that was the speaking of Duck Bill, both Graham and Bluebell looked at her. "Um... I remember that they mentioned bringing in a dog before they got here..." Red Pill's face lit up instantly. "Ah! That would be Arco... Piano, whoops, heh heh, um... bringing in his dog Loki!" Leafing through her binder once more, she stopped at a page near the middle and poked a hoof at its contents. "Should be room 712, down the hall to my right!" Graham pumped a hoof. "Yes!" Bluebell began to walk down the corridor. Graham followed. "Thank you!" Duck said, before trotting after the two before they got out of her sight. Graham regarded her, "Good job, Duck! I totally forgot about that!" Bluebell, even, chuckled, "Smart one, there. We would've been there for hours." Duck felt her cheeks burning, but managed a smile. "I-I... I guess you're right." It was a short, sort-of quiet time as they proceeded down the hall toward the room, sometimes disturbed by Graham and Bluebell talking to one another in an odd sort of... peace, she noted, without a single hair's breadth of hostility in Bluebell's actions or words. Even the way she'd just looked at her a second ago bore no hint of anger or annoyance. Maybe this was what Bluebell was like without having to despise seeing Lily in the upcoming hours, or without having to worry about other ponies seeing her and the other crowd she sometimes—in lieu of joining her, Graham, Flurry, and Arco for lunch—hung out with. Duck had many a time wanted to talk to Bluebell about Mocha Frappe and Starburst, but the fact that she saw them all the time and had to listen to them next to her diminished every instance she'd wished to bring it up. Surely, they'd catch wind of her prodding and make fun of her for the rest of the week if she was lucky. Graham and Bluebell suddenly stopped, and Duck turned to her right to find the placard 712 staring her just above her face. She might not have been as short as Arco, but she was... still short. Bluebell sucked in a long breath as Graham spoke. "We all ready?" Bluebell nodded quietly. Duck cleared her throat. "I-I think so." Graham pumped a hoof. "Let's do it!" With that, she reached up a hoof and opened the door. The three of them poked their heads in like a traffic light—with Duck on the bottom, Graham in the middle, and Bluebell on top—and peered around the corner... ...to find a terribly adorable sight awaiting them. A tall, bearded blue stallion, sitting in the chair next to the hospital bed, was laughing about an article in the newspaper in his hooves, pointing to and showing it to both Arco—who, adjacent to him, was holding a small Pembroke Welsh Corgi that was thrashing about with a big smile on its face—and the gray, purple-eyed, smokey-maned mare lying in the bed itself, closing her eyes and giggling as the dog excitedly licked her cheek. The light of the window behind the bearded stallion resembled that of Principal Cheese's office if he'd pulled up the curtains, with a yellow sheen glistening through the glass and shining a brilliant glow upon the family of four enjoying their time together in a place usually known for absolute terror and horrible news. The Corgi let loose what Duck realized to be a prolonged fart. The mare in the bed, now revealing herself to be English-accented and obviously Arco's mother, snorted, "Loki, that was sickening." "Loki's sickening?" The bearded stallion, obviously Arco's father, asked. "Who's the one in the hospital bed right now? We can get the pan if you want." "Uh! You wouldn't." Arco's father got up and appeared to be reaching for something underneath the hospital bed. Duck, Graham, and Bluebell were, by now, fully inside the room, and it wasn't long until first Loki noticed their presence, and then Arco's mother herself. Arco's father, however, finally found what he was looking for, and with a big smile, he sang, "Well, found your bedpan you old lady. I guess we can... put it... oh." He suddenly realized the three other young mares now in the room. A stand-off occurred. Duck struggled to introduce herself, much too worried that Arco's parents would notice the quake in her voice. The door behind her opened up, and Flurry's voice called out, "Oh, hi you guys! So glad you made it!" Duck turned to find the Alicorn carrying a tray of cups in her magic by her head, which she trotted in with and set on the table next to Arco's father, who gave the mugs' contents a quick looksie. Flurry pointed at the stallion. "This is Noteworthy, Arco's dad!" Noteworthy waved a hoof. "Hello." Flurry jabbed a hoof into Arco's side. "This is Arco Piano. You don't know him," she began, going into a low, pouty voice, "but he's a very grouchy stallion." Arco frowned. Perking up, Flurry ruffled the fur of Loki, who barked happily. "This is Loki!" Graham, feeling at ease, trotted forward and began cooing as she pet Loki as well. "Hi Loki!" Finally, Flurry waved at the mare. "And this is Octavia Philharmonica, Arco's mom!" "Guh!" Duck looked at Bluebell swiftly, though nopony else seemed to notice Bluebell's little noise. The Unicorn's face looked to be in a state of shock. Clearly tired when Duck looked back at her, Octavia waved at them with a sense of politeness and sophistication about her. Arco, letting Loki curl up next to Octavia—who began absent-mindedly rubbing his head with her eyes half-lidded—went back to his seat next to Noteworthy and fumbled his way onto it, stopping himself from going rump-first like he did in the Comet and settling into it like a normal pony would. Octavia raised an eyebrow at it, but shook her head and dismissed it quickly. "Hello," she said, sleepily, "it's so lovely to meet all of Arco's little friends!" Duck realized she was positively beaming, and just had to show it. "Nice to meet you all!" she cheered. Noteworthy, fidgeting in his chair, suddenly began pointing at the newspaper. "Ahp, ahp! Check this one out!" Scooting his chair closer to Octavia, who looked over at the article as he did so, he read aloud, "'Manehattan Stallion Arrested After Punching An ATM For Giving Him Too Many Bits!'" Octavia burst out laughing. "Th-that sounds like a right problem to me!" Noteworthy, wiping his eyes, replied, "Could've used something like that years ago!" As if turning off an Amusement Switch of some kind, Octavia let out a long sigh and a quiet hum, then smiled Noteworthy's way and said quietly, "I think we got along just fine, honey." Satisfied with Noteworthy's like grin, she sat up in her bed and smooshed her hooves together, eyes shut. "Oh, I'm so happy to see Arco make some friends! I was a tad worried he wouldn't find any this year because his best friend moved this past year, but I can plainly see I shouldn't have worried at all, haha!" Settling, she put her forelegs in her lap like a child listening to story time and asked, "Where are you lot from, then? Part of this year's Orchestra?" Graham quickly shook her head. "We're part of the Tankery class, ma'am!" The room fell silent, save for Octavia's almost unnoticeable stutters. Flurry, in the middle of raising a hoof to stop Graham, faltered. Her wide-open mouth slowwwwly shut, went into a cheek-bunched frown, puffed out, and stayed there. Arco was sucking on his teeth, shielding the left side of his face from using its peripherals to look at his mother's reaction. Duck was already looking for a quick exit. Bluebell still stood with a scared expression on her face. Loki, his head nestled in Octavia's sheets, even seemed to raise an eyebrow. Noteworthy surveyed the situation silently. Bobbing his head around nonchalantly, he animatedly looked over at Octavia with an overdramatic neck roll. Octavia was still in the middle of a gasp, her mouth a large O-shape befitting her beginning initial to a sharp T. Wow her mane was really nice... "Hey, um... Arco? Bud?" Arco looked up at his father, who had broken the silence. "Yeah?" "Are you... gay...? This seemed to break the spell on Bluebell, who exploded with laughter like the Tsar Bomba. Graham as well was on the edge of losing it, but was hiding it with a hoof. Flurry was burying her face in her hooves, the goofy smile or beet red underneath not wanting to be shown. Duck was definitely displaying the latter, however, unable to even move or try covering her own face from the new coloration. Arco frowned. Like, really deeply. "Dad." "I mean, it's fine if you are, we really don't mind either way, but joining a girly sport is a... unique choice for breaking the news, I'll admit." The sound of Octavia shifting in her bed halted Arco from explaining himself, and the entire room turned to face the old mare who, no longer gasping, was instead clutching her sheets... a glare on her brow. Duck sucked in a breath before she got a word out. "You... joined... Tankery... and... abandoned your Music classes...?" Arco blinked. Octavia turned to face him before he could get a word out. "I didn't raise you for such a thing! Joining a mare's sport, no less! You'd be much better off playing an instrument than shooting some... loud cannon! All that you've worked towards these past few years, thrown away just because you wanted to see up some mares' skirts?!" Arco raised a hoof. His face was unexpectedly neutral. "Okay, there is literally no truth in that last part." "Skirts are... actually no longer mandatory," Graham began. "Hush," Flurry quieted her. Octavia pouted out her lower lip, crossed her forelegs and glared at the empty part of the room to her left. "I apologize for being so rude, and for not catching your names... but I would like to be alone right now." Duck immediately turned to leave, and, holding the door open for Flurry, Arco, Graham, and Bluebell—who propped the bouquet next to the entryway, was the last to flee. However, just as the door was about to shut, she noticed Octavia's position falter; she deflated, staring at first the ceiling and then the window and husband to her right. And then Duck couldn't see them any longer. Stepping back from the closed door, Duck heard the sound of Arco coughing into a hoof. "Sorry you had to... uh, see that. I uh... hadn't told her until then." Graham, shaking her head with her eyes wide as dinner plates, apologized, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! I didn't know!" Arco chuckled. "Don't worry about it. There's... not much I can do to go back to Music anyway. I think she realizes that, even without knowing that we were... forced into it." Flurry scratched the back of her head, puzzled, but suddenly perked up, toothily grinning and bringing up an excited hoof. "We should go get something to eat then nearby!" Bluebell raised an eyebrow. "Hospital food? You know that stuff is designed for patients, right?" Why were you so shocked upon seeing Octavia, Bluebell? Gods, she wished she had the bravery to ask that. "I like the pretzels and cheese..." went Graham. "No, a shop just down the street from here. Well, a couple blocks." She looked away, mumbling, "Maybe across town but I haven't gone in like ages." "Shouldn't we stay in case they want us to go back in?" Duck asked, though she also had a wanting to give Loki little chin scratches forever and ever too. Arco shook his head. "Trust me, we're definitely not going to dinner with them anymore. Mum'll probably still order the food—probably have my dad go and do it—then eat it here to spite the nurses. I'm hungry anyways." Throwing out a hoof, he grinned, "Where to, Flurry Heart?" Flurry rolled her eyes, then began taking the lead down the hall. Duck took the caboose, mostly out of choice. "Well, I'm not sure you'll all like it. It's a little corner shop tucked away near 7th not too many people know about." Creeeeak. Duck turned around, seemingly the only one to hear room 712's door open up again. Standing in the doorway was Noteworthy, who, noticing Duck, lit up on the spot. "Hi there," he said. "Hello, sir," Duck replied. "What's your name, if I may ask, young mare?" Duck blanched. "Uh... D-Duck Bill." Noteworthy clucked his tongue. He seemed to notice her reaction far too well. "Well, Miss Duck Bill, I have to thank you for being kind to my son for the past couple of weeks. You and your other new friends he's so much talked up every day after school." He grinned as Duck gave him the same, then peered down the hall and pointed at the exiting ponies. "I believe there's Flurry Heart in the front next to Arco, Graham Cracker behind her, and Bluebell in the rear. And that leaves his Tank Commander Duck Bill." Oh Gods he knew about Tankery? "When he first mentioned you as his friend's Commander, I thought he was making a joke about a game or something. Hearing him tell us he was in Tankery... helped that make more sense, I guess." Duck bit her lip. "I'm so so so so so so so so so so so so sorry that Arco isn't in Music anymore. It's all my fault and the Senior class representatives hate me and made he and Flurry sign up or else they'd flunk them and I couldn't just leave them to join themselves because I have experience from my old school and..." she sucked in a long breath, realizing she'd just been drowning in her own ramblings again. "I'm... sorry, sir." "Your old school?" Noteworthy asked, his tone very... kind. It kind of reminded her of her own dad when he used to sit her down and talk to her about all she'd done in grade school that day. "Are you a new student?" Duck nodded. Honestly, she was glad to have somepony to tell all this to... even if that somepony was one of her friend's dads she'd just met less than thirty minutes ago. "I-I transferred from my mother's boarding school just this year. It's... it's my first year in an actual p-public school." Noteworthy grinned warmly. "You seem to be doing very well for your first month or so. You've already made five great friends in such a short time." Duck rubbed one of her forelegs idly. "I have to thank you again for being kind to Arco. We've... been going through a lot of things recently as a family, with me getting some pretty garbage jobs and other... complications elsewhere. We've uh... been going through a pretty rough patch of sorts. Arco has been getting the worst of it, I imagine, having to do schoolwork and all that while also dealing with other home things." Noteworthy looked at Duck, now, and she looked right back at him. "He may not look it, or act like it, or even care to admit it... but he feels small inside. And I'm very grateful that you're all helping him feel big again. So thank you." He reached to his side, toward a small bag Duck hadn't noticed hanging from his flank. Unclasping the flap, he reached inside and pulled out something white in a hoof, which he presented to Duck at once. It was an all-white, eight-panel baseball cap, with a black bill, slightly dirtied and obviously well-worn for some time. Noteworthy scratched his head. "Weird, I know, but... this is for him. His mother thought he should have it. It helped keep her safe long ago, and she thinks it'll help him too." Duck reached up and grabbed the accessory from Noteworthy's hooves, and found it to be softer than she'd imagined. Just how old was this thing? Noteworthy cleared his throat. "Please don't pay too much mind to his mother's reaction. She gets pissy when she doesn't get her hospital food." Despite the curse, Duck genuinely... giggled. "I swear, she likes it more than my cooking. I think she does it to screw with me." He rose from his lowered position and paused in front of the door, a hoof grazing it. "Anyway, again, thank you. Take care, young mare." Duck lit up on the spot. "You too, sir! I hope everything goes okay!" Noteworthy, having now opened the door wide, snorted, "Oh, she'll be fine. She's gone through much worse." "Your camote, mainly," came Octavia from within the room. Noteworthy, entering, replied, his voice newly muffled. "Oh hush, or I'll go and bring you some..." With that, Duck looked at the baseball cap in her hooves, continued to stare at it a short while, placed it atop her bag, clipped its fastening... thingy onto the strap, and turned around to trot down the hallway and join her friends. By now, she was getting hungry too, and whatever place Flurry had in mind sounded more than all right with her. As if to respond to her inner thoughts and let the entire hall know of it all, her stomach first grumbled obscenities at her, then escalated until it was full-on roaring like some kind of Zebrican beast. Its volume seemed to overpower even her friends' previously heated conversation as she grew closer, and they looked her way with a whipping about of their heads and giggles on their breath. Duck raised a hoof up and coughed into it idly. "Somepony sure sounds hungry," Flurry astutely noted before—seated on her haunches—she placed a bent foreleg at her hip and leaned away from it. "Was just telling Graham over here..." she began, casting a glare at the Pegasus, "...that where I have in mind is miles better than the old burger joint near the school." Graham scowled back, but there was a smile on her lips. "Hey! You guys owe me a burger still!" "She's got a point," Arco admitted. "Shut up," Flurry said first to Arco then, looking back at Graham, repeated, "Shut up." Duck only realized it was intended for Bluebell—situated behind Graham—this time as the Unicorn lowered her hoof, puffed out her cheeks, and grumbled something under her breath as she crossed her forelegs. "We've pretty much missed the last half of the day as it is," Arco spoke above Flurry's teasing tuts. He gave her a frown, and she stopped to let him speak, "and Tankery's long over by now. I honestly don't care what we go to eat..." Graham pumped a hoof. "Yes!" "...but...!" Graham, in the middle of her celebration, deflated like Duck's last bouncy castle. Which was a few years ago. She really liked those. "Aww..." "I definitely don't feel like taking in a whole burger right now." He faced Flurry, who tossed her mane and looked back at him. "Where to?" Bluebell rolled her eyes. "What, we don't get a say? Arco's the leader now?" Arco scrunched up his muzzle. "No, I just–" Bluebell blew a raspberry, pushing past Arco—who rolled his eyes in kind—and walking toward the exit doors again, not even giving them her eyes as she said, "Pfft, I was kidding. Burgers'll make me fat. 's go." As the double doors let in the afternoon sunlight show its strength on the hospital floor, Flurry followed the Unicorn and inched her way back to the front of the little line. Graham, mumbling, "What do you care about fat?" sat up and began to trot over to them as well. Arco proceeded to get up... but stopped when he noticed something on Duck's side. Remembering what it was, her eyes grew wide and she about sprained her neck to whip about and unclasp the baseball cap from her bag's strap. Sitting herself onto her rump—and cringing at how impossibly cold it was—she presented the article to Arco, who, almost cautiously, took it from her two hooves. "Where'd you..." Duck couldn't help the stammer, "I-I, um... your father wanted you to have it. From your mother." Arco nodded quietly, examining the hat and turning it round and round as if peering for an expiration date on a strawberry yogurt cup. Not to say that Duck liked yogurt. Honestly, those little Hi-Play cups at the marketplace weren't too expensive, but she couldn't see herself sitting down with just one in her hoof while she watched a documentary, and if she brought more with her over to the couch beforehand she'd feel like she was eating too much, but just one would make her sad when she finished it and then she'd have to get up to get another one and probably miss the Battle Of Walnut's outcome or not be able to see the bombing of Antzio because she was face deep in a cup of yogurt. That and she didn't like yogurt in the first place. Honestly, her cupboards were just kind of... full of... cereal. "I remember she used to always be scared of this thing," Arco said, clearly referring to the hat. Duck raised a brow, but didn't feel it too polite to question it. Even though that's probably what he was waiting for, and, when he didn't get it—despite knowing the fact that he was talking to... well, her—he explained it anyway. "Whenever I got close to it sitting on the mantle, she rushed over to me and pulled me away, saying I shouldn't touch it." He laughed. "Guess she changed her mind. Actually..." Arco brought up a hoof and unbuttoned the top fastener on his school jacket. Duck, feeling the heat rising in her face at the drop of a hat—even though Arco didn't end up doing so—and the zip of a Messerschmitt, looked away with a soft yelp and a quiet gasp. Daring a look, however, she found Arco still looking at her, tapping the white collar and pink bowtie she'd earlier seen wrapped around his neck. "...guess she'd already given me something. Must've wanted to complete the collection... I dunno where I'm going with this." He snorted nasally. "That was dumb. Let's go." Hoisting himself back up onto all fours, he pushed a few locks of his dark gray mane out of his eyes—oh hey, he shared his mother's mane color and eye color, she just noticed—fussed about for a while with a few stray strands, finally felt his hair in a good position, and fit his mother's baseball cap snugly around his head. Flashing his teeth at her, Arco nodded, about-faced, and began to canter over to the front doors, where Bluebell, still holding them open, waited next to a bouncing-around Graham and an admittedly impatient, cheek-puffed Flurry. Following Arco's suit, Duck rose as well, adjusted her messenger bag, cast one final glance down the hallway she'd prior walked down, and finally joined her friends. Flurry was the first to speak up, though only after poking Arco's new hat, and not directed at her at all. "Cute, you pitching tonight?" she asked, containing her snicker only so well. Arco rolled his eyes. "Dunno. You paying tonight?" Graham burst out laughing. "I was actually thinking about that! Who's gonna pay?" Duck fidgeted. "I-I... it's not too expensive, is it?" Her mother may have been... who she was, but she had been kind enough to give Duck enough funds to sustain herself in her new apartment, in the interest of her buying fresh veggies and other items every week. Needless to say, Duck had lots of boxed wheats in her cupboards, and a lot of money leftover to spend on whatever she saw fit. Which didn't amount to much, honestly. Flurry looked away. Then she looked back, pushing the door open and almost grazing Bluebell's hoof who, despite the miss, still flinched like she'd been pressed with a hot curling iron. Seething and clutching at the almost offended appendage, she took a hot, laaaaarge step back, practically squeezing herself against the doorframe. Graham and Arco, both seizing the opportunity as Flurry fled the scene beaming all the while, slid past the Unicorn and escaped back out into the daylight. Duck, not knowing what exactly to do—presented with a mare she was still sure held some kind of inner resentment or annoyance at her very existence, much less her current proximity—grit her teeth and rushed the outside stairwell in kind. Such an astronomical effort over in a matter of seconds, Duck took Arco's side behind Flurry's rear and heard the hospital's front door shut with a metallic thunk. A few leftover medical Jeeps, parked around the circular road marking the main one for emergency visitors, shone their army green paint brightly in blinding shimmers across the grass and directly into Duck's eyes, though—having been trained to fight against the sun many times before—she didn't flinch as much as Graham to her right flank did, who brought up a foreleg as they continued walking down the sidewalk and rubbed at her face vigorously. "Sorry Duck, didn't wanna sit in there anymore," Flurry called, tossing her head to look at her, "it's not some five-star place or anything. If anything, I'd be surprised to see our bill go past fifty or so." That's still quite a lot of money, honestly. "I brought my wallet, but..." "Looks like Arco's paying!" Flurry beamed. Duck could see Graham, her nose dipped down to pull out her coin purse, stop what she was doing in an instant and fit a wide grin across her face. "I don't even know what I'm buying," he replied with a sneer. "We're not going to some kind of farmer's market like those green freaks, are we?" Bluebell piped up. "Green freaks?" went Arco. "You mean Pine, Candle, Sweet Tea, and Vanilla?" Flurry questioned. Bluebell nodded. Flurry tutted. "Do you even know what that means?" "It means that they only eat healthy food and go nuts over cheese." "That is very much not what it means, Bluebell." Bluebell screwed up her face. Duck tried to keep up with Flurry's pace. "Well, what would you call them?" "I dunno, millennials?" Flurry attempted a shrug, but only succeeded in bunching up her shoulders after clearly realizing she'd fall over onto the grass and go belly-up if she'd gone all the way. Duck much preferred calling them Hipsters, to be completely frank. She may not have been familiar with the term itself to a deep degree, but it served as an umbrella name for its... occupants'(?) admittedly rebellious pastimes. Pine Needle chugged away at coffee like it was nopony's business, and Candle had made a slip-up earlier that week that Pine had tried writing songs before. Candle Light herself spoke very eloquently, almost like Princess Twilight crossed with every intellectual historical figure Duck had read about in her life, and was always nose-deep, eyeglasses-down in her notepad that, despite the issues her—and the rest of the Cruiser's crew—status as an Earth Pony would present her, she could scribble down in at lightning speed. Vanilla Pudding, hooves caked in paint and a pencil always propped atop an ear, their artist, clearly being the one who had painted their tank's camouflage on and possibly helping a few of the other teams out as well. Duck had heard from Pine after practice that Vanilla was able to take Art alongside Tankery, because of her amount of credits that would be more than enough to push her to graduation. And Sweet Tea, dressed like she was a flower queen in a fantasy novel, was almost serene in nature, and probably spent most of her time in it as well. Duck wouldn't be surprised to find out that the mare would go on to lead a religion entirely focused on her and her "zen". Still, though... her reminder for Mrs. Red hadn't gone through like she'd wanted back when they were practice firing—mostly because Flurry had to go to the bathroom really badly right after the period ended and couldn't relay it, and Duck was... Duck—and the revelation came back to her quickly. They all needed actual team names. Her own sister had used the Elements of Harmony as callsigns, with Generosity Team, Honesty Team, Kindness Team, Laughter Team, Loyalty Team, Magic Team, and Harmony Team, though Duck never got to see the holders of the latter title before... the accident. She wouldn't dare re-use the same names... but, at the same time, she didn't know what to use instead. Maybe they could go by A, B, C, D, and E just like they'd had when first being assigned their tanks! But then, that's what they were still officially going by... and nopony seemed to remember exactly what their letter was in the end. She shoved her train of thought away, spying Flurry eyeing up a building approaching on their left. The whole time she'd been horribly engrossed in herself, she, Flurry, Arco, Graham, and Bluebell had walked across the bridge leading back into Ponyville proper, and they were now walking alongside Manetgomery Street through the old agricultural sector of the town almost fifteen years abandoned. Flurry finally nodded toward the grain mill. "You know, I never thought about why we had these things." "Yeah, we never seem to use them at all," Graham noted as well, tilting her head. Duck cleared her throat. "Th-these were actually intended to be used for supplies in rations. Grains, vegetables, um... fruits... whatever they could make was made here so the ponies fighting Eastward had enough—and good, to boot—food to eat." Arco clucked his tongue, gazing up at the large, brown, slightly rusted building's exterior. "So they shut it down when we never went over?" Duck nodded, then put the gesture into recognizable words. "Mmhm. But the amount of money put into it all had already been spent, so..." "So that's why they've had to close a lot of stores the past few years?" Graham asked. "Ponyville just d-doesn't make as much money as it used to, yes." "I mean, we were all alive before the Never War almost happened," Flurry began, then touched a hoof to her chest, "but I... uh..." she went red, looked down, fidgeted, then made a little noise like she'd just felt a spider crawl up her leg, "I was... um, I mean, like, I still remember how nice Ponyville used to look. I was mostly raised in the Crystal Empire up North when I was a foal, but I still found Ponyville, with all its grass, and sunshine, and... everything to be so much more beautiful." Duck may have been only one at the time—which, well, everypony else shared in—but the pictures lining her family house's walls showed her a much... nicer Ponyville in comparison to its appearance nowadays. Flowers dotted every roadside, the grass was a healthy shade of green and looked as soft as a pillow, ponies' faces were all smiles all the time, and, even in winter, arriving with fury, the town took on a peaceful, almost celestial, heavenly glow to it that still projected a sense of security and safety and, above all else, magic about it. The sport of Tank Warudo and its critical success and acclaim, while being a good source of morale and spirit—even when it came down to the year's constant results—also became the Mayor's main focus... and the dump for all of the town's granted wealth that would have been much better (at least in her opinion) spent on bailing out and assisting storeowners, and restoring the old statue in the town square that had been damaged in a freak earthquake most certainly not caused by the oil drills on the outskirts of town bleeding the ground dry. The viewing stadium alone must have cost an entire fortune and a half to build, maintain, and upgrade over the past fifteen or so years. She loved animals to a fault, even though they were mostly scared of her, which led to her being scared of them being scared, but the now very normal, often unblinked at daily encounters with the surrounding wildlife either at the farmer's market, on the sidewalk, near the school, and once on top of Sugarcube Corner's roof served only to put her at unease. She may not have been too familiar with the way of the bestial animal, but she was more than just a little certain that simply letting the wildlife walk freely around town would only invite... bad times. And bad times were already being had on the most prominent feature of them all. If Twilight Sparkle and her friends still frequented the public eye, and if they still even lived in Ponyville at all, Duck was sure they'd weep at the sight of the Friendship Castle, which had begun falling apart about five or so years back from nothing but simple inactivity. Nature had begun to take it from them as well, growing trees, and bushes, and slinging vines over the front that made the whole building look like it belonged more in Japaneigh than Equestria. Only the bravest of ponies ventured down its halls bearing torch and gut, face to face with the animals and possible ghosts that inhabited it behind a large, very large door. Gosh, what she wouldn't give to live back in the old days before tensions rose. To see the world in the state the legendary Main 6 had... she would've loved nothing more in the world. She suddenly stopped, aided kindly by Flurry's rump. Flurry, noticing the contact, gave Duck a hard look and a little, cheeky grin. Duck stammered out an explanation, but, looking to her left, found out why they'd stopped. "Is this the place?" Arco asked. Flurry nodded. They were standing in the middle of the oddly busy sidewalk, crowding around the front entrance of a rather... oriental-looking building, with different Japaneighse kanji scrawled vertically along flower-printed decorations. On a simple little chalkboard near her, Duck saw a collection of katakana drawn expertly out, with the translation below it. "Mother Equestria's Abode," she read quietly. Flurry squeed, looking like she was about ready to jump out of her own body and sail right into the sun above their heads. "Yup! It's a Japaneighse ramen shop not a lot of ponies know about." Settling, she bunched up her cheeks and adjusted her school jacket's collar. "I go here sometimes to study or eat, but it'd been a long time ago since last time." She kicked a rock on the floor and made a short, seemingly cautious giggle, "I was... really hoping they hadn't closed down. I probably would've had to call it quits and settle for burgers..." Graham shook her head. "You think I'm all burgers, Flurry? Come on, now! All this talking of soup is making me huuuuungry!" Perking up, she turned her head around as if in a panic, a hoof to her chin. "Uhhhhhhh... ah!" Duck yelped. Graham grabbed her by the hoof and, pushing through the others, sang, "Let's go already!" The other three nodded. Duck cleared her throat to steady herself, and was about to get out of Graham's grip until she flung the door open much too late and caused them all to painfully squeeze themselves past the door's threshold and right onto the store's floor in a big cold heap of a pile. At once, with the little bell over the door finishing its little ringing, the sounds of all their bodies hitting the ground cutting out almost immediately, and only a few low curses coming from Arco and Bluebell... somewhere in the mess, Duck became aware of... a divine smell, and a scented air so pretty that it almost caused her to start bawling on the spot. From what she could see—albeit on the floor at the moment—there may have only been a few other ponies in the building, but all their eyes were fixated solely on the schoolmares and stallion still lying down dazed and confused, though mostly on Graham's side, who'd taken the full brunt of it all. The floor was a pleasant, finely polished wood that stretched out like tree branches, halted only by the small tables dotted here and there with tea sets and small plates atop them. A couple, averting their gaze after a kind wave, went back to slurping up noodles and chowing down on sashimi. What looked to be a mother and son turned to their kettle, with the former pouring herself some tea and the latter biting his tongue from the intense heat that had just seconds ago scalded it beyond all earthly repair. The white walls, decorated with flowers, a painting or two, and Japaneighse sayings, all led to a small outcropping marking the serving area of the building's kitchen, its interior lit up a soft, presently buzzing white as compared to the rest of the naturally-illuminated main room. Duck heard a shuffling of hooves, and looked over to the source to find a rather older-looking stallion staring down at her and her friends with a pair of wide-eyes and a quintet of menus clutched in his magic. He blinked. She blinked. She gasped, then all but launched herself out from the friend pile's grasp, breathed heavily for a couple seconds, then fell back down to a respecting bow. Staring at the floor, she introduced herself. "W-Watashi wa Sumisu Duck desu." About to rise once more, she added, "I'm so sorry for causing you a disturbance, sir." She looked back up. The stallion was laughing. Duck sucked in a breath, then turned to her left and stared at the potted plant that looked like it needed water as well. "Ah!" She looked over. The stallion's eyes were wide again, and he shook his head. "I am sorry... to laugh!" He beamed this time around, and Duck found it in her to mimic the gesture. "You do not need to do that. In fact, I might as well be bowing to you, Duck-sama." As Duck took a second to involuntarily let out a nervous giggle, she heard the sounds of her friends getting up and looked their way. "How many?" Duck turned back. "Um, five." Flurry appeared on her left. "If you would, we would like a corner booth, senpai." She gave Duck a telling look. Duck opened her mouth to whisper a thank you, but decided to not be rude. The stallion lit up instantly. "Ah, of course, Flurry-sama." Straightening up, his teeth still showing, he swept a hoof in front of him and began to lead them to a far corner of the restaurant. "Right this way!" With Bluebell rolling her eyes for some reason, Arco dusting himself off, and Graham leaning away from Arco, Duck took the space behind Flurry as they went, and before she knew it, they had stopped in front of a red-cushioned corner booth lit by a hanging, slightly dimmed lamp so as to not mix with the sunlight peeking in through the wide-open windows. Now much closer to the kitchen, Duck could hear the sounds of sizzling woks and crackling oil much more clearly. While she wasn't a frequent visitor of Japaneighse cuisine, she still felt a large compassion for it, and was only feeling hungrier and hungrier as she slid into the far side first, followed by Flurry and Arco. Bluebell and Graham took the other side. Their greeter hoofed them all their menus and, before he left, he was given a short, slightly befuddled, "Arigato," from four of the five ponies. He bowed to them once more, and then he was gone. Bluebell, at once, threw the four pages of her menu over to scour what Duck already knew to be the more... Equestrian foods. Going to the last page herself confirmed her thoughts. It seemed that they had a lot of options for more regional appetites, like hayburgers, green salads, grilled cheeses, and chilis, though she had to guess that it made sense for an establishment in the smack-dab middle of Equestria, far from home. Her own stomach growled for a nice broth of some kind, so she disregarded every other page and began to scour the soups. "What was with that eye roll back there?" Graham asked, much braver than Duck thought she could ever be. Bluebell lowered her menu. "What, when he talked to Duck and Flurry earlier?" Graham nodded. Duck was a bit curious too, but she had a bit of a fair hunch on why she'd done it. Bluebell seemed to realize she knew, and minded her with a little look from atop her menu. "Can't believe you actually use those... words." Flurry tutted, "It's just proper honorifics. Being polite." "They call Princess Celestia 'Water Mare' over there," Bluebell replied. Duck didn't think that Bluebell... had actually known that. Huh. "I'm just surprised they even set up shop in this country." Graham chuckled. "Bluebell, are you being racist?" Bluebell gasped much too harshly. For a second, it sounded like she'd pass out on the spot. "N-no! Why would you think something like that?!" "I dunno that sounded pretty racist to me," Arco noted quickly. "Or maybe you just don't wanna admit that you're secretly loving how nice this is," Flurry teased. Bluebell seemed to be pondering it for awhile, but ended up crossing her forelegs, puffing up her cheeks, and looking the other way. Arco looked at his lap. "Tsun tsun." BANG! "EXCUSE ME?!" Bluebell, her teeth grit and her upper body already halfway out of her seat, looked to Duck's right and blinked. Flurry, previously flinching at Bluebell's outburst, looked as well. Duck, not wanting to be left out, did the same. Their server, standing at the open end of their table, was waiting with a very patient expression, as if he hadn't just witnessed the slow embers to a fork and knife fight. "What would you like today?" Flurry shooed away the tension. "I'll have a bowl of Shoyu, and a Bepsi, please." Arco hummed for a second, rubbed his chin, then opened up his menu again. Leafing through it at a hurried pace, and tilting his head to and fro, he finally ordered, "I'll have... uh, Shio, please. And a root beer." The server nodded and looked Graham's way. Duck did as well, and only now realized just how much more bouncy the Pegasus was at the moment. It looked like her grin was about to escape from her face. "I'll have your Tonkatsu please! Oh, and a Bepsi!" Another nod. And then... Duck sucked in a quick breath, feeling the heat from the light getting to her face and discoloring it. Pulling up her menu and burying her entire head behind it, she hesitantly asked, "Um... can I have your Miso, p-please? And just some tea would be fine." "What kind would you like?" "Um, do you have Darjeeling?" "Yes, we do!" "I'll have that, then," Duck smirked. "Very good, Duck-sama." Duck felt her face burn. She... really wasn't used to being formally addressed, much less as a higher rank. Finally, he looked at Bluebell. "And what about you, young mare?" Bluebell tapped her tongue against the roof of her mouth. She pursed her lips, then reclined into her cushion. "I'll have a burger and some Peak Fog." "Of course, miss," the server replied, as if something he'd expected running a Japaneighse restaurant. "I will be right back with your drinks." He left them for a second time. Graham decided to take the floor. "Y'know, I think I'll take some pork over that burger you guys owe me." "Yeah, I was wondering about that," Arco admitted. "Change of heart?" Flurry, appropriately, asked. Graham giggled. "You could say that. I don't think Duck would like how noisy my place is, anyway." She barely finished her sentence before her eyes grew wide, and she swiftly threw both her hooves over her mouth and gave Duck a long stare. "Ohmigosh, I'm sorry Duck! I didn't mean..." So Graham avoided a place she liked because of... her. The inner turmoil currently trying to beat down the gates of her mind tried their darndest, but... she had to admit a point there. "It's okay!" She showed her teeth. "You're probably right, I... wouldn't." It became awkwardly quiet. Duck fanned herself with her jacket. Flurry leaned forward. "Really, Bluebell? A burger?" "What?! I don't eat Japaneighse food." Arco smirked. "You see this is her plan, Flurry. She's–" "Yeah, yeah! That's right!" Bluebell grinned proudly to herself, crossing her forelegs and leaning even further back. Was everything she sat in suddenly a recliner? "I told you guys you'd regret bringing me around!" "Actually, I kind of like you being with us." Arco choked. Graham puffed out her cheeks as if stopping vomit. Flurry made a face. Bluebell, even, opened her mouth and scrunched up her eyebrows. All four turned to Duck, who just now realized that she'd just said what had just been said. Immediately, she went into defense mode. She tried her hardest to turtle her way deep within the confines of her jacket. Bluebell was stunned. She tried four separate times to re-cross her forelegs, then, grunting, she looked away. "I- you- you- I, uh..." She flinched. "Guh...! You don't mean that," she finally stammered out. Hadn't they gotten past this by now? "I mean we're..." Duck felt a defeat coming on and began to slide further and further down into her seat. "...friends." Bluebell looked to be losing it. Graham seemed to take a hint of some kind. She brought up a foreleg and slapped Bluebell's shoulder. "We should do this more often! That first time just wasn't enough last week!" Flurry was hiding her face behind two hooves, snickering uncontrollably. Arco added, "Yooooou're right, Graham!" Slowly turning over to face Bluebell, who wasn't looking at anypony right now as her vocal cords seemed to be making a low boiling sound, he made the date, "How about we make this... weekly!" Bluebell let out a little whimper, bringing up a hoof and lightly biting on it. Duck had no idea what was going on. Flurry finally managed to sputter out, "D-do y-you, hey, Bluebell, d-do you wanna go... shopping?!" Like an angry teacher swiping wretched stacks of paper off his desk, Bluebell tossed Graham out of the way like she was made of thin air, leaping out of the booth like an Olympic athlete and bolting from the scene. "I'vegottagotothebathroomshutup!" Graham, her face on the floor, burst into uncontrollable fits all the same. The entire table erupted like Vesuvius. Duck minded the angry glares, raised eyebrows, and large frowns showing themselves to them. But with Flurry leaning against Arco for support, Arco supporting himself with a hoof on the table, Graham rising from her shove to the ground greedily wiping her eyes, and the bathroom door far off in the building slamming open with a resounding BANG, Duck bunched up her shoulders... ...lowered her eyebrows... ...and smiled.