“Ohohoho, Mr. Hooves, how are you gonna escape this time?” Spike smiled to himself as he readaway, hours having droned past. Half the book was already finished, and the little dragon showed no signs of slowing down, “You have a lot of the mystery found out… funny though. No amazing sword duels, no bulky heroes and fair maidens, just a detective solving a mystery. Who knew it could be so… so awesome?!”
“I see you’re having fun.” Twilight’s voice broke through his focus, and he fell away from the world of the story as his eyes turned to the unicorn before him.
“Darn it, Twilight, I was just getting into it!” Spike pouted as if he'd just had a bucket of gems pulled from his grip.
“Says the dragon that’s already half way through the story.” Twilight replied with a sly grin.
Spike sighed, looking back at the book still in his iron grip, “Yeah, that’s true. Awww, at this rate, I’m gonna lose the bet! Must…put down…book!” Spike grunted as he tried to put the book down, his body not responding to his orders, “C’mon, Brain, put the book down!” He growled, smoke launching out of his nostrils, but the deathgrip of his claws refused to give way. He finally dropped his efforts, quickly breathing. A single drop of sweat ran down his brow from his Herculean effort.
“Did you just work up a sweat trying to put a book down?” Twilight asked with a tilt of her head and a worried raise of her eyebrow, “Are you alright?”
“You know, that’s a good question. Reading is fun sometimes, but the books I usually read are stories of heroics and damsels in distress, towers and dragons, sword fights and stuff. I’ve never given a book like this more than a glance, but now that I’m reading it… it’s actually really cool!” Spike smiled up at Twilight, getting his breathing back under control. Wish it wasn't so hard to put down, though.
“Really now? What’s happened so far? It’s been months since I picked this book up and ran through it,” Twilight came around to his left side, three books levitating around her.
“Uhh, let’s see. Sherlocke just put away one of the members of an evil organization trying to overthrow the Trottingham government, but they aren't talking. All they've done is hinted at a building in the harbor, and he’s just now entered a trap set up by the bad guys,” Spike furrowed his brow, ideas moving through his head for the hero of his story. “This is like story book gold!”
“I knew you’d find it interesting. What do you think when compared to your usual fantasy stories?” Twilight asked, looking at the page he was on, eyes scrolling over a dialogue between Sherlocke and two criminals under the guise of harbor workers.
“I’d put them on par with each other. I’ll happily pick up this book any day, but I’m not about to drop a fantasy book to read a mystery,” Spike shrugged, adamant in his praise for the works of fantasy he dove into every chance he got.
“So, how about your original goal? You were reading for inspiration, but now it seems you’re caught up in everything.”
“You know what, the bet’s off. I’ll happily lose it if it means I can finish this book off and try it in one of my own stories!” Spike said with a toothy smile and a chuckle, returning to the book. Twilight shook her head and wandered off, one of the books opening to her side as she giggled.
Guess he's growing up! Never thought I'd see him turn to a more mature work like Sherlocke... well, life has a way of surprising you, I suppose. She smirked, looking through the pages of the book, “Let’s see…” Twilight mumbled to herself as she sat down, the flipping pages echoing through the library as Spike descended back into the world of intrepid detective, Sherlocke Hooves.
“So, Mr. Hooves, still giving us the chase, eh?” One of the harbor workers sneered, the log saw starting to spin with a dreaded howl of air and metal grinding against metal.
“I’d say I’m actually ahead in this race, though this turn of events was a bit unexpected.” Sherlocke replied, looking around at the warehouse walls and ceiling, not a hint of worry on his face, “Mr. Darkwater set up quite the cliché trap.”
“Our boss isn't known for his dramatic acts. Simple and dirty does the job just fine,” The brown unicorn with the messy overalls replied, laughing as the log track made its way towards the now blurring saw, the teeth singing through the air.
Sweat began to roll down Sherlocke’s brow as the blade drew ever closer, worry starting to break through his impervious expression, “Come now, Watson, where are you?” He mumbled to himself, his voice completely drowned out by the spinning blade.
“Oh, this is too good…” Spike almost started bouncing in excitement, now seeing the world of the book. He walked up to the log track, seeing a trench coated earth pony strapped down to the log track, rolling towards his doom at the teeth of the spinning blade, the wind from the saw gently gusting past his mane. He joins in the laughs of his criminal cohorts, rubbing his claws together, “I gotta use this sometime.”
“Hooves!” A voice cried out as a cane flew through the air, cracking the unicorn in the back of the head. The poor fellow stood stunned before falling over, a dazed look in his eyes. His companion, a Pegasus, leaped into the air and flew up further, trying to find where the cane came from, and more importantly, who threw it. He set eyes on a pony in a simple bowler hat and brown coat, before a blunt object crushed his chest with a heavy impact.
His breath hissed out as his lungs contracted from the pain, and he began to fall. An aura caaught him during his descent, and slowly brought him down to lay beside his companion. Sherlocke looked up at the blade with a slight panic, but spoke as if he’d just endured a very uneventful game of chess, “Well, Watson, you certainly took your sweet time… I don’t think the world could handle two of me, so, do you mind?”
The blade’s motor died as a switch was thrown, and the log track came a stop a good two feet away from the teeth of the blade. Sherlocke let out a satisfied sigh as Watson walked by the little dragon to help his friend out, “Yes, well, traffic was horrifying. It didn’t help much that I had to follow the shouts of your friends here…” Watson answered with a chuckle as the leather straps came undone. Sherlocke sat up, rubbing his ankles, but a smile found its way to his face despite everything that happened.
“I always tell you to avoid the scenic route, my friend. Now then, we’ve a mastermind to catch, and this delay won’t do well for my search,” Sherlocke and Watson walked by Spike as he listened to their dialogue, and quickly followed behind them as they left the warehouse. A ghostly voice, not very different from Sherlocke’s, though very female, pierced his little world of mystery and suspense.
“Spiiike! Spike! Are you in?” The voice followed a banging on the door, and the Trottingham harbor melted away from Spike’s vision as he returned to the library, groaning with obvious annoyance at the interruption. He put the book down with utmost care, a sudden feeling of victory passing through him, “Guess that bet’s all mine, Twilight…” He said to himself with a chuckle, the interruption now seeming more like a blessing than a curse. He opened the door to find Rarity standing at the threshold.
Spike’s mouth curved up into his typical wavy smile as he looked up at the unicorn of his dreams, “Heyyy there, my lady… how might I help you this fine day?”
“I thought you knew, Spikey, you said you were going to help me at the shop today,” Rarity replied, adjusting her mane slightly, the light from the descending sun making her seem like an angel in the evening light. Spike tilted his head slightly, the world a muffled blur as he took in as much of the sight as he could. Stallions fight wars for a sight like this...
“Uhhh… sorry, missed that, you said something about the shop?” Spike said with a shake of his head, pushing away his daydreams to focus on the task at hand. Rarity raised an eyebrow at him.
“You. Were going to help me. At the Boutique. Today.” She spelled out, with a second of pause between each chunk of speech. Spike quickly nodded and hopped outside, turning around.
“Twilight! I’m off to help Rarity! And I won the bet!” Spike smiled, hearing a frustrated groan from inside.
“Alright, I’ll be sure to clean up then! Have a good time!” Twilight shouted back, though noticeably less enthusiastic about having to clean up the eventual castle of books she was going to build from her binge of research. Spike laughed as he closed the door, careful not to be audible to the librarian.
Yeah, it’s mean to laugh, but I’m out of cleaning duty today! Spike thought to himself with a grin before turning back to Rarity, “So, what are we starting with on this fine day? A dangerous romp through the gem fields, outrunning Diamond Dogs as we look for emeralds and sapphires, or maybe a couple hours spent going over your designs, making your visions a reality?” Spike asked with a raise of his eyebrows and a smile.
“You’re going to help me with a new fashion line, Spike, and I’m going to end up using every last gem I have. In case I run out, I’m going to need you for a quick run through the field in order to get more, and I mean very quick. The dresses are due tomorrow and I’ve been caught up with so many things today…” Rarity said with a dramatic sigh and gesture of her hoof.
“No problem!” Spike hopped with enthusiasm and a salute. Before Rarity could even take one step down the road, he'd already sprinted off down the street.
“Spike! I HAVE locked the front door! Oh, that dragon…” She smirked and sighed, before running off down the street after him.
“I’m helping her… I’m helping her… so don’t get frustrateeeed,” Spike mumbled to himself, balancing a small chest of emeralds on his head, a box of thread in his left hand, rolls and strips of ribbon in his right, and a pin cushion balanced on his left foot for good measure. A scowl crossed his face from time to time while the sounds of thread racing through cloth and the buzz of a sewing machine filled the large Boutique main room.
“That’s it, just hold still. You’re already being a great help,” Rarity smiled from behind her glasses, grabbing several emeralds and a strip of ribbon from her living toolbox. Spike managed a smile back before it deformed to a slight frown as she turned away. Spike sighed, retreating to his thoughts, hoping for some escape from this statue-like boredom.
I wish I could lock up my muscles… then I could just think. Really want to get back to that book. Spike blinked a few times to get away from the thought, unable to shake his head from fear of annoying the unicorn before him, Since when has a book ever been higher on your list than Lady Rarity, man? I do help her a lot, and then I spend most of my time cleaning up the library… huh; guess I haven’t done much beyond helping others, never spending time for myself. Ahh, why should that change? I make lives easier like this! Spike thought with a slight nod, knocking him off-balance. “Woah!”
A blue aura quickly trapped Spike and everything he was carrying, the entire setup freezing in the air, “Honestly, Spike, you must focus,” Rarity leaned into his vision; eyes drifting over him to make sure everything was still where it should be. After happily noting that no emeralds had flown through her shop, and no ribbon was tarnished by the floor, she leaned back to her work, tipping Spike back up onto his one-foot standing position with a flick of her horn.
“Sorry, sorry… things’ve been on my mind lately,” Spike said with a slight smirk, then a grimace at his own wandering mind.
“Things on your mind? Sounds like something’s bothering you, dear.” Rarity worked away at the machine, cloth spilling over the side of the table, suddenly being yanked up with surprising speed as she made her passes under the machine’s needle.
“Well, I’ve taken up writing-“
“Writing? Oh, that’s good! Put that mind of yours to excellent use!” Rarity cut him off, Spike tipping over slightly from the jump of the interruption.
“Sure, yeah it is, but it’s not exactly my problem. Nnn,” Spike stabilized himself, sweat threatening to run from his brow with his delicate effort, still looking up at the unicorn.
“Writer’s block?”
“If ‘writer’s block’ means not able to write anything, then yeah. It seems like every idea I get, it just doesn’t sound…right, you know?”
“Oh, yes, I’m well aware of it. I tried my own stories way back when, but I’ve never had much of a penchant for literature. Any particular genre?”
“Genre?” Spike raised an eyebrow, careful not to tilt his head with it.
“A particular type of story; comedy, romance, tragedy, that sort of thing.”
“Oh, uh… I dunno, actually. I’m kind of building it as I go. It's the first actual story I've written, so I guess I’ll give it a ‘genre’ once I’m done,” Spike grunted, his leg getting a bit sore, “C-can I put this stuff down? I feel like I’m gonna fall over again, and this time from my leg giving out…”
“You don’t need to hold the pin cushion, dear.” Rarity replied without looking over, the pin cushion floating up and off Spike’s leg. He switched legs, sighing from relief with having a strong leg to lean on while his right relaxed, free from its burden, “As for your story, I’ve always enjoyed a good romantic novel.”
“Romance? That’s not really my, uh… f… fo… it’s not what I want to write, no,” Spike mentally gagged on the prospect of him writing a romance novel as he spoke, forcing down his moment of physical sickness. I mean, c’mon! Me, write a romance novel? I’d sooner give up all the jewels I own! Spike thought, sticking out his tongue in disgust for a second.
“Oh, well that’s too bad. The battle of love is more tragic and powerful than a duel of blades! Two hearts separated by incredible distances and perilous obstacles, forever pulled towards each other in the heat of their adoration for each other!” Rarity chuckled to herself, her mind wandering as her hooves automatically did the work. She soon levitated the dress off the table and looked it over, pulling at numerous parts of the fabric with her magic to check length and flow.
The dress looked like an elegant ball gown, possibly for a noble. The back of the dress fell out past the tail and flank, layers of frill and silk spilling out in a multitude of colors ranging from blue to purple. Spike’s eyes wandered across it to the middle, where a wrap of red ribbon complimented the light blue of the dress' body, then travelled up to the thin sleeves, a mosquito-net style taken for the ankle and half-way up the shin. The neck had a tall collar, the collar itself adorned with three perfectly cut emeralds.
“Looks… expensive,” was all Spike could manage for a comment, dumbstruck by the sheer class of the dress.
“Well yes, it is meant to be a line for Canterlot nobles. I find I’ve been paying a lot of attention to the middle class, and wanted to explore my posh imagination. This design came to mind, and I’ve yet to have it reviewed by some friends living in the capital. What do you think?” Rarity turned to Spike, his face a surprise to her; his brow was furrowed and his eyes were squinted, mouth twisted up at the corner; he appeared to be trying quite hard to appraise the dress.
“Ahhhh… I-I’ve never been a dragon of fashion, Rarity. Your opinion is a lot better than mine. But I think it looks good,” Spike said, arms gesturing slightly in adoration, It’d probably drain the entire Canterlot treasury to pay for it, too… he pondered to himself, smiling while pressing down his urge to chuckle at the thought of Princess Celestia handing over a mountain of gold and gems for that one dress. The mental image caused the laugh to break through his defenses, and he chuckled.
“Hm? Is the design that bad?” Rarity said with a grimace, running her eyes quickly over it again, and Spike quickly composed himself, regretting the chuckle.
“N-No! No, um, it’s fine, it’s fine! I was just thinking about something pretty funny, sorry,” Spike offered an embarrassed smile in apology, clearing his throat, “So uh, how many dresses did you say you needed to finish?”
“Oh dear, that’s right! Alright Spike, stay perfectly still and keep those claws sharp and ready! Time to work my magic!” Rarity locked a determined look on her face, accessorized by a smug smirk, and suddenly the work table became a flurry of activity. And away she goes... long as I keep my arms like this, I'll be a good enough help. Spike returned to his thoughts, keeping himself perfectly still as the white void came back to his mind’s eye.
Spike took in the blank void, and immediately dragged back the small chunk of Ponyville he’d imagined before. He turned to the front of the library and nodded his head, Rarity fading into view at the front door. He looked off to the left and nodded again, ‘The Stallion’ popping into existence, and he and Rarity leaned on each other with a gag-inducing look of bliss. Unable to resist the urge, Spike did so, looking off to the right. He nodded again, and Twilight appeared, book in her magic, eyes zipping through the pages.
Finally, he turned and tipped his head at the ground to his left, his mustachioed clone coming into view, and they set eyes on each other, “Man, you really DO look evil.”
“I know, right? It’s the moustache and the smile.” His clone replied, letting a sinister laugh escape him as Spike stepped back.
“Alright, mind joining them over there then?”
“Sure. Rarity will be mine… just need to wait for my chance!” Evil Spike rubbed his hands together, a cape appearing on his shoulders as it fluttered in the air. He moved to the stallion's side, locking eyes with each other. For a moment, a bolt of lightning jumped between their pupils, the electric hate of their glare manifesting.
“Alright, so, I’m going to have to make names and personalities for both of you,” Spike clapped his hands together, catching the attention of the stallion and Evil Spike, “So, ‘The Stallion’, what should you be called, and how should you act?” Spike asked, walking up. The stallion didn’t answer, much to Spike's confusion. He rubbed his chin as he appraised the stallion, details becoming apparent to him.
‘The Stallion’ was a brown earth pony, a foot taller than Rarity. His mane was a ragged gold, tail following suite. His flank bore nothing; a blank canvas, but everything else about him seemed very average.
“No, that won’t do at all. What would Rarity want to see in a stallion? Bulk, flair, bravery… didn’t she say something about a prince? Hmm,” Spike stroked his chin, walking around The Guy and appraising his build, “No, this won’t work. He needs more class.”
A suit suddenly materialized on The Stallion, a black tuxedo, perfectly pressed, accessorized by a small black bow-tie on his neck and a rose in his front pocket. The Guy adjusted his suit, wearing a suave smirk as he appraised his look.
“Better, better. That actually doesn’t look half bad,” Spike put on a satisfied smirk, nodding at his creation, “Can’t say the blonde works though. Looks weird,” Spike tilted his head to the side, the mane on The Stallion’s head shifting colors, along with style. A green mohawk appeared on his head, which earned a sickened grimace from Spike, quickly replaced with a long red mane that flowed over one side of his head. The crimson locks fell over his left eye, blocking it from view, “That’s depressing,” Spike said with a shake of his head. The style was replaced by a basic brown, frazzled look, “Rugged…but it looks like you just woke up.”
The Stallion looked up at his mane with a furrowed brow and a sigh, no sound accompanying the hiss of escaping air, “Brown stallion with a black tux… what style works with that, and would it look good for a beautiful pony like Lady Rarity? Gotta make you look perfect, big man,” Spike shared a smile with The Stallion, both knowing just how deserving she was of the perfect stallion, “But before that, I need an actual name for you. Calling one of my characters ‘The Stallion’ in my story is just plain bad writing,” The Guy nodded in silent agreement.
“So what’s a proper name for a stallion…?” Spike stroked his chin, looking around himself for inspiration.
"Punching Bag!" Evil Spike shouted, seemingly the only one with a proper voice. Rarity threw an annoyed glare at him while Twilight giggled to herself; at least one of the mares had a sense of humor.
"No, no, that wouldn't work. He's the hero, he needs a good name," Spike looked off at his evil side, smirking to himself.
"Brown Note." Evil Spike suggested, a big smile on his face.
"No," Spike drew up a polar opposite frown.
"Uhhh...Dumpster Craw-" A claw was shoved to Evil Spike's mouth before he could finish.
"You'll get your chance, just let me think," Spike stared at his clone with half-closed eyes, expression screaming of irritation. Evil Spike nodded with a saddened look as the claw was pulled away.
"I still think he should be called Brown Note."
"If it were for a joke, then I'd agree completely. But he's not some comedy relief, at least not in this story. Or this draft, for that matter," Spike walked back to the path in front of the library as he squared up his cast. "Nothing's coming to me..." He sighed, feeling defeated.
"Spike, are you alright?" Rarity asks, looking at him.
Oh, time to go back, Spike thought, the world disappearing from his view as the Boutique came back to him, "Sorry, spaced out for a second, did you say something?"
"We've run out of emeralds, but I've finished up the dresses I had due for tomorrow."
"Wow that was fast. How long's it been?" Spike asked, finding the weight of the ribbons, gem chest and thread case had been removed from his body. He moved his arms down, then fell to his rear as his legs gave out, immediately snatching their chance at a merciful break, "Long time, I'm guessing?"
"Five hours," Rarity non-chalantly replied.
"F-Five?! How did-"
"Not sure, but you were thinking about something and I got lost in my work. Anyway, you've been an excellent help, Spikey Wikey!" Rarity leaned down and mushed Spike's cheeks with a big grin.
"Yeah, noo pwobrem." Spike managed to get out through his squashed mouth, enjoying himself. As Rarity let go, his mouth immediately curved into his silly smile, swaying slightly, "Noooo problem at all, Rarity... glad I could help."
"I suspect Twilight is expecting you, so I won't keep you for long. Have a good evening, my friend," Rarity smiled to him, radiant beauty shining with the light of the desk lamp she had to light her work, "Shall I walk you home?"
"Usually it's the gentleman that walks the lady home, but I'd enjoy the company. Thanks," Spike offered a wide smile in appreciation, and the two headed out of the shop, Luna's moon hanging high in the sky. Spike looked up at the starry night sky, not a cloud in sight, "Always nice to see the sky like this..." He smirked, letting a gentle puff of air exit his nose in a sigh.
"Indeed. I find a starry night like this is always a time to spend with somepony special to you..." Rarity looked up with the little dragon, though his eyes turned to her.
"I can see why," Spike mumbled as he looked at the light refracting off her mane and coat, seeming to create a heavenly glow, Everytime I look at her, it's in the perfect light... how does she do it? Spike pondered, feeling a smile coming back, and he looked back down the road, using a claw in some vague attempt to cover the light blush on his cheek.
"So, when you were 'spacing out', as you said, what were you thinking about?" Rarity asked, looking down at Spike.
"I was trying to think of names for the characters in my story. I've got a stallion, but I just can't think of a proper name... he's the hero, and he's in love with this mare who gets captured. Suave guy, smooth, handsome, all that." Spike folded his arms, trying to think.
"I always find names to be more easily found after you've thought over their personalities. Perhaps you should think of a particular situation in your story, and see how the hero reacts? Such as catching a glimpse of his love in the hooves of the villain?"
"That's a good idea... how would he react? Would it be calm and calculated, looking around himself for a way to free her? Or would his emotions take control, sending him headlong into a fight he might not win? Cool... thanks Rarity!" Spike grinned at her, mind already setting out to find the answer to her question.
"Always my pleasure to help an aspiring author. Anything else?" She raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
"I don't want to give too much away, but I'm trying to think of where the story is going to take place. Right here at home would give me a pretty good town to work in, and I know where a lot of stuff is... but I don't know if it fits my story." Spike looked around at all the buildings with a shrug before turning back to Rarity.
"Nothing's wrong with your story starting here, then moving out to parts unknown. That's part of the glory of a story, it takes you places you've never been before. Even a fictional environment can feel just as real as your home town."
"If I do start it here... yeah, that's true. I'll think it over more before I get to bed, because I know as soon as I lie down, I'm gonna be out for the rest of the night." Spike chuckled at just how quickly he conked out some nights, "Thanks, couldn't've asked for more help, Rarity."
"Like I said. Here we are, have a good evening, Spike, and be sure to get to bed early! You want these ideas fresh in your head for writing," Rarity smiled to him before turning away, walking back in the other direction. The two waved to each other as Spike walked into the library, and he carried right on towards the steps, not even blinking at the titanic fortress of books set up in the main room.
"Oh, I can't believe creating a new spell would be this hard!" Twilight shouted in frustration from her fortress, causing Spike to look over.
"New spell? You know those take months of experimentation to get right. Hay, even I know that," Spike spoke back to the wall of textbooks and scientific references, inciting another groan from the unicorn locked within.
"Yeah, I know. You helped Rarity alright?" Twilight yelled from inside her fortress, the sound of flipping pages echoing out with her voice. The sound was still blocked well by the thick wall of Bastion Dictionary, separating her from Spike.
"Yeah, she got her dresses done on time, least that's what she told me. And don't forget, this is your mess to clean up, so I'm gonna write down some stuff before getting to bed," Spike put on a victorious grin, feeling quite proud of himself.
"I know... did you think of anything for the story?" The sound of a book slamming closed punctuated her sentence, before it was added to the walls of her castle.
"Not a whole lot, I'm trying to figure out the personality for the hero of my story," Spike sat down at his desk and began tapping the parchment he'd left there with a dry quill. He leaned on his hand in thought, tapping his left temple in time with the tapping of the quill. He soon set himself into a rhythm, starting to pay more attention to the drum beat of the quill and his claw, rather than the ponderous ideas rolling through his head.
"Well, I guess you should start with thinking of how he'd be in real life. Not every hero needs to be a muscle-toned super soldier with innate physical and mental ability. Even your average Joe could be a hero in disguise."
"That's true... but it seems weird to just use any old pony as a hero."
"That's just because you're not used to it. Give him a believable personality, flaws, quirks, maybe he knows a few good jokes?"
"So nopony like Rainbow Dash?"
"Oh no, I'm sure she'd be flattered, but we've already got one Rainbow in the world," Twilight giggled, Spike adding his own small laugh to.
"Yeah, that's true also. Then again, you guys aren't all that hard to write about. Maybe I should base him off one of you?"
"First, from the sounds of it, you're basing a stallion off us. Second, you really should ask permission. Just think of your own, and build him up... start with a core ideal. What does he believe in?"
"Hmm... what does The Guy believe in?" Spike dipped the quill into the inkpot near his left claw, and started writing down ideas as they came to his mind's eye, "Maybe... maybe he's a pony down on his luck. He's lost a lot of money to some local casinos, and he's escaped to Ponyville to get away from the city... looking for a job, he turns to some of the local ponies for help. Some give him bits to buy food with, and one lets him stay in her shop in the guest room.
"The mare letting him stay with her offers him a job as an assistant, which he takes with almost a sense of greed...wow, already this story is straying away from my original idea."
"That's fine, you're doing great! He seems like the kind of stallion you'd see in Las Pegasus; down on his luck without a bit to his name. What else?" Twilight slammed another book closed, looking back with a grimace at the shrinking pile behind her.
"So he takes the job, and starts talking to his boss. He recognizes her from rumors he's heard around town about a famous dressmaker who lives in the country-"
"It's Rarity, isn't it?" Twilight spoke up, causing Spike to nearly fall out of his seat in surprise.
"How'd you find me out?"
"Seems like everything you write about has had SOMETHING to do with Rarity, so... I dunno, lucky guess?" Twilight said with a vocal smirk.
I can practically see her smiling through that Anagram Anatomics book... Spike thought, quirking his mouth upward slightly. He turned back to the parchment, seeing all the ideas already scrawled on it.
"Alright, talking with the famous dressmaker. Does he know her?" Twilight continued, quickly flipping through the pages of a book on beginner's magic. Wait, why am I looking through this? I read this book eight years ago!
"No, he doesn't, but he's heard of her. It takes a while, but the stallion starts talking to her during work, and they find they have some things in common, mainly gossip. They share rumors and stories they've heard during their lives, and are soon hanging out with each other and Rarity's friends after a few weeks or so," Spike nodded, adding a couple scribbles next to his already-large mountain of notes on the page.
"Sounds like a nice guy. Have a name for him yet?"
"I feel like something's coming... stallion down on his luck, brown coat, scraggly light-brown mane... gambler... something to do with luck, I think."
"Sounds good, any ideas?"
"Good Luck...uhhh... hmm... Hot Shot? I like that, makes him sound daring."
"Sounds good... nothing comes to me when I think about it, so go with it."
"Alright... The Stallion, your new name is Hot Shot," Spike nodded and smiled.
Somewhere, deep within the dragon's mind, Hot Shot smiled back, happy with his new name.