//------------------------------// // When Paying Off Karma, Please Add A 15% Tip // Story: Anchor Foal: A Romantic Cringe Comedy // by Estee //------------------------------// The abandoned mill rested quietly under Moon-shadows, doing its best to enhance the silence. It was a fairly futile effort: when it came to the sounds which could have been produced by ponies, pretty much all of the trot into Ponyville was taking place in something close to near-total quiet. Just ahead of Fleur, Fluttershy was continuing to trot forward: not always at the best speed (because whenever she tried to put her right foreleg too far forward, the corsage's clamp forced movement-slowing pressure into the back of the dress), and not quite at Caramel's side. She generally stayed about two body widths to his right: something which could normally be expected from a pegasus who was still considering whether to make her full wingspan available. It meant she maintained that distance regardless of his efforts, and the occasional attempts he made to casually brush against yellow feathers found him rebounding off freshly-available atmosphere. But they were trotting. Fluttershy was thinking about taking to the sky, trying to get back to the cottage (and to Fleur, that thought process was rather visible), but it wasn't keeping her from heading towards the heart of the settled zone. It was progress. It also had Fleur constantly keeping an eye on those exposed wings, rating her own field strength against any push they might manage to generate and wondering how long she could hold the pegasus down. However, if that level of desperate grip were to fail, she could -- -- how long has it been? Not since her arrival in Canterlot: she was sure of that. She was severely out of practice. But if she had to, she could. It was just a matter of focus. But for now, they all trotted, and -- that was all there was. Hoofsteps on the road. Nopony was talking. Fleur wasn't really surprised by that. She'd done her best to provide some lessons in the art of conversation -- but anypony who intended to spend a lot of time around Fluttershy needed to become accustomed to long periods of silence. Combined with the fact that her charge just wasn't good at small talk yet, she'd advised Fluttershy to save her efforts for the appropriate portion of the date. In this case, that would be dinner: a degree of silence could be reasonably expected during the movie and, given who was seeing it, might also be greatly enhanced. Trotting under Moon, the only witness Fleur knew of for this first date. She really couldn't count herself. She was just there to make sure nothing went crucially wrong, provide last-minute advice should Fluttershy bolt for a restroom and somehow manage to stop there. She certainly didn't think Caramel was going to try anything untoward with her charge, not when Fleur was right there -- -- because he wants to make it seem as if he's changed. Because he thinks I'm his friend. Besides, there was no violence in him, no potential for assault: she never would have let him anywhere near Fluttershy if that had been the case. But it didn't mean he wouldn't have normally tried for a greater degree of contact than the failed feather-brushing. Based on his puzzle, she fully expected something to be tried at the cinema. It was just a question of how Fluttershy would respond to it. "It's a pretty night," Caramel tried. There was something which could have passed for valiance in the attempt. Eventually, "...yes." "It wasn't supposed to be this nice, was it? I didn't really look at the weather schedule. Other than making sure I didn't have to bring an umbrella." Time passed, along with a fair amount of distance. "...I'm not sure." "I have one of those back-mounted ones that covers the entire body," Caramel went on, with Fleur wondering if any part of him had just registered the mild desperation within his own voice. "Only it's for dating. So it has this really wide extension to the right, enough to cover one more pony. But only if they stick close." "...oh," Fluttershy finally offered up. "I saw one in a movie, and after that... well, I had to get one for myself," Caramel offered up as a sacrifice to the Gods Of Small Talk. "The film just made it look so romantic. Only there, it was a mare sheltering her stallion." "...oh." "Plus they don't tell you how the unbalanced weight just has you lurching to the right all night." The next silence brought them all the way to the main bridge, and they crossed into Ponyville proper, with Fleur trying to stay a consistent eight body lengths behind. It brought them into conversation, and all of it belonged to other ponies. An unexpectedly-pleasant night -- something which typically didn't happen in a nation where the weather was scheduled moons in advance -- had brought what felt like a significant percentage of the citizenry out under Moon. Couples were wandering the settled zone, perhaps on the way to their own dates, or just taking a trot for the sake of the companionship. A few children were playing in the street, kicking balls back and forth. From the direction of the town square, a single lyre played something less than lullaby, more than caress, and did so for the pleasure of but one mare. Pegasi in the air, drifting more than flying, allowing the warm breeze to soak their feathers. Lazy flaps, for there was no real hurry to get anywhere. Winter was some time off, but that time was passing and this... this night had been a gift. A gift intended for but one pony, but something which could be appreciated by all. Soon, it would be cold, with dampness soaking into fur as snow did its best to find a home inside hooves and hearts. The world would be manipulated until it turned against its residents, for there were fools who said winter was necessary. Death had to come before renewal could truly begin. That you couldn't be warm again without first being cold. (Fleur didn't understand that belief. If you had the power to control the weather, to make your environment, your life better, and you just made ponies suffer anyway because ponies had always suffered on schedule, and so there was clearly no need to make any of that change...) Ponyville's population knew the cold was coming. But tonight was warm, when it should not have been. And so they were out and about, talking and playing and dating and living and, incidentally, staring. Because Fluttershy was participating in the night, was out and about under Moon with a stallion not quite at her side. Time had passed since the party, enough for the story to fully spread to just about every ear which might have cared to rotate in the proper direction. It meant so many of those ponies paused in their own travels, looked at what wasn't exactly a couple. Looked at the pegasus in her expertly-done makeup and semi-adequate dress. A mare whose beauty had not only been enhanced, but who had finally announced to the world that the wonder was available. That she wanted somepony to appreciate her. And yes, there was currently a first contestant playing the game, it was possible that the first pony to the podium would settle in for a good long stay, but... Fleur dropped back a little more. It was one more way of letting her charge have the spotlight, added to the muting makeup which she'd added to her own fur prior to Fluttershy's session. It placed more of the focus on the beauty who felt that attention, which shrank in on itself and trotted ever more slowly, with those wings twitching in a way which had Fleur's corona threatening to ignite into a near-instant double at the first sign of retreat. But Fluttershy kept moving forward. And ponies watched. Admittedly, there were portions of that observation which felt protective. Pinkie had said that the others tended to treat Fluttershy as being younger than she truly was, the foal of the group. It was easy for Fleur to see that in a few of those who were out that night: a mare known to be skittish, terrified, fragile, and so she had to be protected. Some of that instinct towards guardianship had the potential to be positive, while too much would ultimately hold her charge back. Either way, it was something for Fleur to keep in mind: as the hourglass-marked stallion had demonstrated, at least some portion of the town looked after their Bearers. Others, however... they were thinking about something else. The thing Fleur wanted them to think about. I sent a vision among you. Start dreaming. Even for Ponyville, it wasn't the fanciest of restaurants. But it also wasn't Mr. Flankington's, so it had that working for it. (It occurred to Fleur that she could have personally reserved a dinner in Canterlot. The most expensive theater seats available. Paid a scalper for admission for three into Hambletonian and just billed the palace for it. But kicking herself for not having done it was a waste of time, and so she simply made an internal note to inflict that financial injury later.) As Caramel had promised, she had a table to herself, within viewing distance of the non-couple. The current issue was in keeping it that way, because for the one-to-ten scale of pony beauty, the majority of pony approach courage started to run out around eight -- and Fleur had deliberately lowered herself. The act had created what others might have seen as a minor paradox: the worse she looked (as long as she didn't deliberately scar herself to six or below), the more active attention she received. Ponies who would have previously seen themselves as being below her level had been steadily approaching the table, offering companionship, conversation, and a splitting of the bill. She didn't want the first two, wasn't ready to trust in the last, and needed a clear line of sight. As such, the near-constant pickup lines were beginning to get on her nerves. They were also somewhat distracting. And while she was able to keep her focus on Fluttershy and Caramel, she completely missed the argument being conducted at the table three spaces to her left, perhaps because it was taking place between a pepper mortar and the world's ugliest salt cellar. "I assure you, this will be subtle." "But how? What are you going to do?" "Prove his inadequacy. It won't take very much. Or all that long." "...is anypony going to have their mane and tail catch fire?" She also missed seeing the salt cellar mull that over. "Locally," the salt cellar considered, "that would count as 'subtle'..." Objectively, it wasn't the worst restaurant. It had some degree of foreign food available: the menu had touches of Prance in it, something which was always guaranteed to enrage one of that nation's residents due to the universal belief that no Equestrian could properly manage their food, culture, or language. There was even an experimental kudu dish available, and just about any such dinner for ponies counted as experimental when an exceptionally high kudu population for a settled zone was 'three'. But the majority of the international offerings were donkey fare, and that made Fleur truly question why Caramel had chosen this establishment. Too many donkeys took the philosophical approach that life was suffering. Food extended life, and that meant eating, by extension, was also suffering. A good donkey dinner took about as much time to digest as a thousand-page novel and sat in the intestines for somewhat longer. The name for such cuisine was hardtack and when it came to the ultimate pained results, what emerged often felt as if it had just come out in hardcover. Caramel was making something of a show out of looking through the menu. On the other side of that table, a rather attractive and decidedly awkward blush was huddled, awaiting that decision. If he orders the Tumultuous Timothy, we won't reach the movie. The waitress continued to wait. Fleur wanted that to go on for a while. She'd already had to redirect the mare three times: once because she hadn't settled on what she wanted to try yet, and twice because despite her clear interest in being on the receiving end of Fleur's tongue, the pegasus had no chance of serving herself. "I think," Caramel finally said, "I'd like to go with the --" and then there was a burst of garble which nearly proved all of Prance right. (The waitress took up a quill between not-so-nimble lips, jotted something down on the notepad which had been attached to her collar via flexible spring.) "Fluttershy, do you want me to order for you?" It was, Fleur considered, a fairly professional way of doing things. Give her the discretion to surrender a potential issue, while making it clear that he was willing to take up the burden. The first sign of dating expertise spotted from Caramel. "...no," her charge finally offered. "I think... the sorghum and beet pulp loaf." The cheapest thing on the menu, and Fleur kept the groan internal: apparently they also had to have a lesson about spending other ponies' money. "Thank you." The waitress trotted away. Unfortunately, this put her back at Fleur's table and after the unicorn had finished proving that third time did not pay for all, the silence had settled in again. It was a quiet which seemed to exist in its own bubble, with the walls reinforced by outside pressure. There were empty tables in this eatery (and one was taken up by two who weren't paying, who hadn't been recognized as potential customers or even as being alive), but quite a few were occupied -- and Fleur wasn't the only one watching the lack of activity at the center. Gossip had to spread from a source, and it seemed as if quite a bit of Ponyville wanted to know how this was going to work out. It won't. She watched yellow feathers vibrate, tremble. So did at least twelve other ponies. "So," Caramel tried, "how have things been at the cottage?" A long pause. "...nice." It wasn't so much that open disbelief crept into the next word as it leapt in with all four hooves scrunched together for a one-point landing. "Really?" Several appetizers arrived. "...nicer than usual." "Well, it's been quiet," Caramel said. "In some ways. I mean, I was... well, I've been invoking Cadance a lot lately." It almost made Fleur's tension visible: ponies swore by the Solar and Lunar alicorns for just about any reason they could think of -- but Cadance was just about only invoked in matters of love. It was too much to drop on a mare during a first date.... "...why?" "In hopes that you'd still be here when the date came around." A small, honest-seeming smile. "You know how it goes, Fluttershy. You all do. Want another truth? I almost asked you out near the end of summer, after I broke up with Catty Corner -- well, after she broke up with me. I was thinking about how I could apologize to you, and -- well, that's when you all just vanished from the front of the tree. Teleported off to a mission: the first time anypony could remember that happening. So everything got put off, and while you were all away, I started talking to Earthsea..." Her charge managed a small nod. "But that didn't last." He sighed. "But we're not here to talk about my dating life --" another small smile "-- except for hopefully in the future tense. What was that mission, anyway? You were gone for a while, and nopony really said anything when you got back." Silence. "We usually get some idea of what happened," Caramel inadvisably pushed on. "Even when it's just Rainbow telling stories to some of the kids and none of the details can be trusted. But with this one --" "-- it was just... a mission. One which started in the palace. There are things we... can't talk about, Caramel." The vibration had spread to the tail, and Fleur wondered if she could risk igniting her corona in public to fix the damage. Hidden workings weren't her strength. "Because... of the palace." He blinked. "You mean it's classified?" "...you -- could put it that way," Fluttershy tried. "Wow." He looped a forehoof through the mug's grip, took a long sip of what Fleur already knew wasn't water. "Some ponies figured that was going to happen eventually. Except for the Trio, who keep saying it's been happening all along and anything you all tell us is just what the Princess told you to say. But this time, they actually asked you to keep it quiet, and even Rainbow's going along with that..." He tilted his head slightly to the right. Watching her face, or at least the half which was visible. "Is it hard? Keeping secrets?" "...yes," she softly said. "...so I'd rather not talk about it. Or around it, or anything close to it, Caramel. Please." He visibly searched for a topic, and quickly went to what was probably everypony's backup plan for a huddled Fluttershy. "Did I tell you what Shimmy tried to do with my light fixtures?" Her head came up, and Fleur heard the soft giggle. "...no! Did she -- oh no, she didn't try to treat the coil as her newest tunnel, did she? Some ferrets see anything that looks even a little like a hollow tube, and they can't help but try to go down it! Don't tell me she --" "-- got stuck," Caramel ruefully smiled. "I knew something was wrong when the shadows started twisting. And squealing..." It was a topic which couldn't last forever, but at least had the potential to get them onto the main course. Fleur continued to watch, absently placing her order for the least damaging (and most expensive) item she could identify along the way. "It looks like things are going well. So that means one of the rivals is about to make a move and ruin everything." "The rival would do well to watch for timing." "For drama?" "Comedy. Comedy has several requirements, and timing is one of the most crucial. But if one is going to play a joke, then it also must be played on somepony. Otherwise, where's the comedy? -- on your left, Harem." "On my --?" A passing waiter reared up, jammed his hoof into the mortar, ground it left and right against the peppercorns before gently tipping some of the fresh powder onto one of the field-carried dishes, moved on. "...OW!" "And this is why I do not allow others to dispense from me," the salt cellar smugly stated. "Now watch. Opportunity approaches..." The pegasus waitress was heading for Fluttershy's table, with a huge domed silver platter balanced on her back -- and a unicorn in a chef's uniform trailing close behind, with horn ignited and field surrounding the dish. That's unusual, Fleur decided. She should normally be able to slide that down her wing and onto the table. What had Caramel ordered? The pegasus stopped, and the unicorn stallion caught up. "A bold move!" the chef declared, and did so at the top of his lungs: the sound bounced around the little serving area, and Fluttershy's position nearly went airborne. "For a bold pony! To make such a request -- I haven't heard it in years! In fact, I'd forgotten it was even on the menu!" "Watch closely, Harem. A pony who would be good enough for Fluttershy needs to deal with the little things..." The chef abruptly frowned. "I... think it's still on the menu," he said. "We did remove it after the Incident, but that happened just after the former cook graduated. So somepony must have put it back. That's what Wenchie wrote down, so you ordered it." Looked away from the bold pony, just long enough to make eye contact with most of the restaurant's patrons. "Those of weak constitutions," he grandly announced, "should look away at this time." Nopony did. "I ordered --" an increasingly confused Caramel began -- -- and didn't get to finish. "I know!" the chef cut him off. "And so I came out to serve it myself!" A honey-yellow field grew brighter, carried the platter to the table, whipped off the dome, retracted from the base and in doing so, fully exposed the contents to unfiltered air. "BEHOLD!" the chef shouted. "Mélangés Grán Flambé!" The first pillar of flame came about two hoofwidths short of the ceiling. It was also confined to the exact diameter of the platter, had more orange than red in it while showing absolutely no white. So it was actually rather expertly controlled while only being hot enough to finish cooking what rested within, and could have been described as nothing more than a fairly interesting visual display. Or at least, it could have been described that way by a pony who hadn't just broken for the door, which left every other now-former customer out. Ponies raced. Ponies flew. Ponies came very close to stampeding. Dishes were abandoned. Food was spat out before the evacuation because while it was extra energy for speed, it was also just that much extra weight to carry. Everypony forgot to pay their bill, the entire group equally neglected to tip their servers, and Fleur's issues with trying to sit alone were solved for the rest of the date's dinner portion, which now had about three minutes to go. The flame died away, became a few weak glows of heat dancing in the platter's center pile. Caramel, his entire body shaking, trembling, hooves knocking against each other, couldn't move. Fleur's corona had ignited, with the projection around Fluttershy's shifted body, ready to get her out of there. And the chef blinked twice, then looked around. "Oh," he said with mixed shock and disinterest. "Maybe it wasn't that last cook, then --" "-- I..." "Are you all right, sir?" "...I didn't order that..." "But it's what I wrote down!" Wenchie protested. "I -- that is what you said, right? Your accent was sort of rough, but it sounded like you were saying --" Fleur wasn't paying full attention to the argument. She was looking at Fluttershy, for her charge had also moved. But she was still in the restaurant. She just hadn't had time... "You see? A little fire, and he freezes! What kind of potential mate can't move to protect the pony he's supposed to care for?" "...but... but you could have burned --" Huffily, "I distorted a few words. Nothing more. The fire was perfectly under control. Everything was under control except him. But to his rather dubious credit, that bench is still dry." A thoughtful pause. "We may want to consider that as a challenge for the next phase." "The... next?" The main argument raged on, with Fleur getting up to approach her charge, make sure everything was all right. So did the smaller one. "Can't deal with a little burst of flame," the salt cellar said. "Something which will be part of Fluttershy's life for as long as the librarian insists on not paying for stamps. But there is more than that to be ready for, in her existence. Another taste, I think. After all, we still have a movie to attend." "You ordered it!" The chef was now in an open fury, a state distinguished from the rest of a professional cook's life by absolutely nothing. "And everypony else left! I don't care if you say you didn't order it, I don't even care that you didn't eat it! You're going to pay for it!" "-- okay," a still-reeling Caramel just barely managed, and the weaving head eventually reached a saddlebag. The salt cellar made an effort. The words emerged from the depths of both saddlebag and stun. "My bits are gone." "Fiscal support," the salt cellar observed, "also being important..." "Well, somepony has to pay!" the chef roared. "...I didn't bring money," an instantly-worried Fluttershy stated. "...I can't pay..." The salt cellar, who'd just effectively learned that fiscal responsibility could be transitory, winced. "--oh, here they are," Caramel exhaled. "I guess they just fell into a corner." "...well, it's better than having her washing dishes all night," the rather defensive salt cellar stated. The pepper mortar considered that it looked as if the pretty unicorn had been about to pay, then decided not to mention it. The important thing was that the meal had been paid for, although that did unfortunately avert what might have been a charming sort of bonding scene through mutual labor. On one of the other pages, that aversion was what Discord wanted... Rivals disrupted romance: it was what they were there for. But they did so in the name of gaining that romance for themselves. Discord didn't want romance, and he was still acting like a rival. It was confusing. Or maybe he was more like a -- "Time to go," the salt cellar said. "I like to catch the previews. Additionally, I've been considering a potential innovation..." From the outside, the cinema hadn't looked promising. For starters, it was a one-screen: the building had apparently been put together under the expectation that movies themselves would be something of a fad, and so there was no need to host more than one at a time. But the years had proven that wrong, and so the cinema hosted multiple films -- at different showtimes, leaving it as one of the few Ponyville businesses to approach full-cycle operation: there was just no other way to get the rental cost back on that many reels. On the inside, however... that was where the velvet took over. The benches were richly padded, mostly in dark reds and exceptionally-soft blacks: hues which would vanish when the lights went down. Every last one of them had been arranged to face towards the screen, and did so at an angle which successfully targeted the dead center of those flickering images. There were a few private boxes above the main floor (because cinemas had stolen some of their early designs from theaters), which naturally included a Princess Box or, as Fleur suspected Twilight thought of it, a The Town Librarian Will Not Be Caught Using This Box. The screen itself was of a decent size. Fleur couldn't locate the sound-projecting devices, which was the first sign that they were fairly good ones. And some of the benches were double-occupancy: intended to host couples and those who hoped for that status. She even spotted a four-pony bench towards the front, something which suggested the settled zone hosted that rarest of unions: the group marriage. Such things were legal in Equestria, and just about as scarce as metallics: every participant had to agree to the presence of every other, and so those unions were hardly ever formed -- but when they did manifest, they tended to last. Wall draperies: not bad. Some of the paintings in the lobby: skilled, although they appeared to all be from local artists. There were even a few framed posters. On the whole, she'd seen much worse, and it came as an additional comfort when her own bench passed both a sniff test and the rather more risky hoof contact. Cinemas which weren't cleaned frequently tended to become rather greasy to the touch. It was, Fleur supposed, decent enough in its way. But it wasn't her. It wasn't what she had become used to in Canterlot, what she expected. What she might never have again. Fluttershy and Caramel were two rows in front of her: easy to see with the house lights still up and a relative lack of ponies to look past. (It wasn't a full crowd for this showing, perhaps because of the subject matter.) Each had a cheap paper feedbag looped around their neck, although Fluttershy kept pushing hers with a forehoof, trying to keep it off the dress. "Do you like popcorn?" Caramel asked. "...yes. I just don't want to stain this." She adjusted it again. "...this is -- olive oil with the salt?" Dipped her head, nibbled, and also stained some of the makeup which Fleur had so carefully applied: one of the reasons the unicorn had chosen not to indulge -- with another being the price. (She could get the palace to pay out that levels of bits on a dress. Requesting the same fees for a group of recently-exploded seeds seemed to be unrealistic.) "It's... nice." "You're welcome," Caramel smiled. "Do you go to the movies much?" "...documentaries," Fluttershy eventually said. "Sometimes stories. I mostly see those with Rainbow. Twilight spends too much time trying to fix the scripts. Rainbow just kicks popcorn at the screen." Nodded towards several tiny stains. "...that's easier, at least until she gets caught." Another long pause, which Fleur used to look around a little more. As it turned out, there was something worth seeing: a prettily-frowning pearl unicorn mare occupying the projection booth. Not quite a match for Joyous in overall appearance, but a looker in her own right -- and one who had a projectionist's mark, something which was still a fairly rare sight in the young industry. The relative scarcity meant that a mark-qualified projectionist could just about name their own salary, and those who loved profit objected accordingly. Many ponies had been hired who didn't have quite the same touch with the notoriously finicky equipment, and the luckiest cinema owners had eventually been able to replace them with those bearing the right icons -- after they finally took the salary request and compared it to the repair and replacement cost for all of those damaged reels. The mare tinkered a bit, her corona glowing as bits of light lanced there and there. Nodded to herself, then loaded a reel. "...what are we seeing?" Fluttershy asked. "...I didn't check the schedule, and there was a pony in front of the sign on the way in." "Well, first there's a short subject," Caramel said. "Something about travel, I think. And then the feature is a --" his tones dropped, just enough for Fleur to realize he thought he was being subtle "-- horror movie." "...horror?" Oh, for... Fleur could see his plan. It was possible that everypony would be capable of spotting it, with the possible exception of Fluttershy. He was taking a pony known for her fears to see something which would scare her, and when that happened, there would be a very convenient stallion to press her shaking body against. A source of comfort. Blatant emotional manipulation. I didn't think he had it in him. Not on this level. Admittedly, the level was rather basic, and she'd still had doubts. Something else Fluttershy and I need to talk about later: more ways to spot when somepony's trying to toy with you. I should have seen this one coming. And with Fluttershy... ...actually -- that was a little more of a question than it had been before the fire. Because Fluttershy had -- -- the house lights were starting to dim. It was the signal for previews and trailers: the full darkness would only close in when the short subject began. Fleur prepared to split her attention: most of her focus would be on Fluttershy, but she was slightly curious about the upcoming cinema season. She'd been to so many of Equestria's film premieres in the capital, staying close to the flank of whoever had hired her, trotted among performers and producers, studio executives -- -- something else Celestia took from me. I nearly paid for my own ticket. It would have been another receipt to send in. But it was also insult. Fleur hadn't paid for a ticket in years. Not since her first movies, one of the rarest trips of all -- "-- glasses?" She'd sensed him before she saw him. It hadn't been via her talent: the theater was too occupied for that, with Fluttershy far too close. This was just the casual realization that somepony had been on the approach, and she looked up to see a dingy brown unicorn stallion with a dull grey field, a not particularly handsome specimen who mostly knew of grooming through disregarded rumor. He could have been of just about any age from bare adulthood on, and his field was offering a set of dark lenses. Don't they keep solicitors outside? "No thank you," Fleur politely declined. "I'm really not shopping --" "-- they're included in the price of admission," he smiled, showing off crooked teeth which would have been better off in concealment or, ideally, placed along a monster's jawline. "It's a new kind of movie, something experimental. They're -- part of the show." Well, that was interesting. Besides, Fleur wasn't the sort of pony who casually passed up on something she'd already paid for. "In that case, thank you." His field receded, hers ignited, touched the exposed portion of the lenses, brushed against his energy -- -- that's... strange. That's a very weird feel for a unicorn. It's like there's something -- other? "You're quite welcome!" he beamed. "Do enjoy yourself! After all, it's so rare that something truly new comes along, isn't it?" Moved on, his field passing out lenses from the black saddlebags. "...a horror movie," came from two rows ahead. "It's supposed to be a good one." A little more shakily, "...what's it called?" Not without satisfaction, "The Beast With Five Fingers." "...and..." The vibration was almost strong enough to reach Fleur's bench. "...what is that?" Caramel's voice dropped again. "I heard it's about a centaur." "...a what?" "They're a mythical monster. Absolutely terrifying -- well, you'll see." And with what was no longer passing for subtlety, "But if you feel like you can't look at it, just remember that I'm right --" "-- glasses?" "Oh. Thank you." "Put them on, sir. Can't watch the movie without the special glasses! Or rather, you shouldn't. You'll get so much more out of it this way! Glasses for the mare?" Fluttershy accepted them, slipped them on. The stallion continued on his way as the lights continued to go down, leaving him to finish his rounds in the semi-dark. It was something which didn't give him any issues: he could see perfectly in the dark if he wanted to (with one previous exception for his entire lifetime). He could also be a stallion if he wanted to, although typically not for very long, as being a stallion was boring. If you were a stallion, then that was the only thing you were, with no real possibility of becoming something else -- well, technically, it was possible to become a corpse, but that was even more boring. Currently, he was a stallion for one reason: because to pass out the glasses as himself would have left him with an empty theater. Well -- empty but for a questioning Fluttershy, something he didn't care to deal with just yet. He was doing this for her, and that could be explained after the final results had been accomplished. He'd learned patience while trapped in stone, or at least something which occasionally passed for it. He'd had an idea, for creativity often arose from chaos. Something which felt as if it would be... subtle. The trailers played. The projectionist, the only pony who would have known something was wrong, was fully occupied with her equipment. Fleur watched, recognized those she'd met and a few whose names were likely on Celestia's potential witness list. And then the lights went all the way down. The short subject turned out to be A Trip To Yakyakistan: Don't and was mercifully brief, although the truly merciful option would have been to never have played it at all. This was followed by the feature presentation, with both words granting it just a little too much dignity. It was cheap. It was poorly-made. It was in black and white, because they hadn't been able to afford grey. She'd seen better acting at school plays, although the background sets were just about a match. There were many horrifying things about the production, starting with the fact that somepony had thought the film was a good idea. There was one scene which had been filmed on location in a dump and Fleur suspected it had been shot during the search for the original script. In fact, the only interesting thing about the movie was provided by the glasses, and the film hadn't even been made to take full advantage of them. "These," Caramel declared with open wonder, "are the best special effects castings I've ever seen." Which, as far as Fleur was concerned, just meant that he was very easily impressed. Seriously, Fleur mused as she watched the weak, wavering image of an outstretched foreleg, one which had just barely separated from the screen. If I was doing this, I'd start the movie by kicking something right at the audience. They should be facing forward as much as possible, blasting spells into the crowd. It's as if no one making the movie considered that it would be even slightly close to three-dimensional... However, judging by the murmurs, there were a number of ponies who at least saw possibilities in the little change which had been made to the medium. Others were too busy laughing at the script, and two were simply very late to the show. "Pardon? Could you pull your foreleg back a little?" She had been rather stretched out: Fleur was taller than average to start with, and comfort meant spreading out. "Sorry." She removed her hoof from the aisle and the couple slipped past, now whispering to each other. "...didn't recognize..." "...assistant." ...what? Were they still talking about me? Assistant? Why would somepony be calling me an -- -- which was when what the film's creators, special effects department, illusion-casters, and sound design experts had decided a centaur was appeared on the screen, and the movie's genre officially transitioned to comedy. Caramel, who'd been waiting for it, seized his chance. "Are you okay, Fluttershy? Do you need --" Just barely audible, "...that's... interesting." "Huh?" "...which part do you think his stomach is in?" Fluttershy whispered. "The vertical torso, or the horizontal? Well... he could have multiple stomachs. Like cattle. But starting from his mouth... that's a really long digestive tract. And look at his belly! With his size, the corresponding amount of intestines he'd need to have, and the way he moves..." She thought it over. "...bowel torsion," she softly decided. "That's why he's the last of his kind. They all died from bowel torsion." Which was when Fleur found herself fighting the urge to laugh. "Bowel torsion," Caramel hollowly repeated, still trying to deal with the complete lack of pegasus which wasn't pressed against his flank. "...it can be very serious." Igniting her horn in a crowded theater was rude, and so an elegantly-hooficured foreleg was jammed against her mouth. "...I think he must have breathing problems, too," Fluttershy sadly decided. "Like a pug. The nose is just too jammed up against the face. Poor, poor centaur..." She was starting to taste her own fur. Caramel openly stared at his companion, who was now busy diagnosing knee issues. Leaned to that side at the exact moment she leaned away from him, probably to better diagnose a hoof condition brought on by ill-fitting rubber suits. Fleur spotted him taking a disgusted look at his own flank, then decided he was probably regretting his own lack of wings: one of the advantages pegasi had in dating was the ability to pretend they were stretching and wind up with a limb draped over somepony's back. He looked down at his paper feedbag, and Fleur briefly thought about a minotaur couple she'd seen once, reaching into the same container at the same time. It had been vaguely interesting, come across as slightly romantic and for ponies, was completely impossible without benefit of popcorn trough. His ears twitched. It might have been an expression of frustration, or at least a desire for ear contact. There was every chance that at this point, he would have considered ear contact to be the highlight of the evening. "...no wonder he's so mad," Fluttershy whispered. "Joint pain does that. Oh, and he's going to charge right at them. It's the worst thing he could possibly do in his condition..." What had been envisioned as a centaur and emerged as a poorly-moving bundle of prospective medical issues turned to face the screen. Fleur's lenses provided a bit of outstretch on the one arm, along with a hint of depth for a nasal stub which couldn't have very much of it. Caramel, whom Discord had been providing with a somewhat more enhanced image for the entire duration, got the full production. The centaur charged, and did so directly at him. The entire body came off the screen, gained color and dimensionality and mass, hooves pounded through the air as the stallion pulled back, it was growing in size with every step and it was snorting and he felt the hot breath against his fur and it was almost on top of him and it roared something which sounded almost like his name and it did so only within the lens, with nopony else able to see the bale-tons of monster which had broken into reality and come for his life... It meant nopony understood why he screamed. Broke from the bench, went over two aisles going backwards, stepped on two ponies and into one feedbag before rushing out of the theater, his left hind leg trailing kernels and broken dreams. But for those who were recovering from the escape, everypony watched him go. This included Fleur, who'd just barely dodged, and she finally turned around as the house lights came up, the cinema trying to locate the source of upset. The projectionist inspected the reels, the bulk of the audience eventually wound up examining the now-frozen flickering image, and the unicorn and pegasus mares simply looked at each other. "...what happened?" "I don't know," Fleur readily admitted. "Do you want to follow him?" "...yes." They both got up, headed for the exit. And from his place in the rafters, Discord watched. "Can't handle a little monster attack," he softly snorted. "And it wasn't even a real monster." He waved up a list, made a check mark on it, and resolved to never tell the librarian before turning to the book on his right. "Popcorn, Harem?" "I don't have a mouth." "That's fair." They found him just outside the cinema, lenses discarded, cooling off in the rain. It was an interesting sort of rain. It was exceptionally cold, especially given the overall warmth in the air. It swirled around him. It was also only on his side of the otherwise-empty street. "...Rainbow," Fluttershy softly stated, and then moved forward before saying "...Caramel?" He looked up. Water ran down his face, and the crest of his mane sagged. "...great special effects," he quietly said. "Really... great. It'll be the next big thing. Did -- did anypony else leave? Use any of the other exits, or was I -- no, it was -- just me, wasn't it? I was the only one who got scared. Everypony else just sat there through that. Everypony but..." He slowly shook his head. Water ran into his ears. "I'm sorry, Fluttershy. I'm..." The little saddlebags sagged against his sides. "...it doesn't matter," he softly finished. "Everypony saw that. Nopony's going to forget it. I'll... I'll take you home." The trio began to head towards the bridge, and did so in silence. The cloud made an initial move as if to follow, but then thought better of it. After all, there was still supposed to be some subtlety in play. The pattern had changed. On the way in, it had been Fluttershy and Caramel, with Fleur trailing. Now it was the mares in the lead, with the stallion squishing his way down the path. It had been like that for some time. Traveling in silence. But if you were around Fluttershy for a while, you got used to long periods of quiet. It couldn't last, though. The mill appeared, was passed. The cottage was getting close. "How do you feel?" Fleur had pitched her voice carefully: Fluttershy could hear her, Caramel would not. "...I don't know." "You should be proud of yourself," Fleur told her. "I'm proud of you. You got all the way through it. You didn't bolt. You didn't make an excuse to go home. You had a date." "...but it wasn't a good one." The lesson was getting close. "...do things go wrong like that a lot?" Fluttershy quietly asked. "It felt like things just -- didn't work." "Things can go wrong on dates," Fleur admitted. "But when it's a good connection, you laugh them off on the spot, or laugh at them later. You use them to become closer, because you went through something together." "...I don't feel like..." A deep breath: the dress shifted, and the corsage's cheap clamp finally fell away. "...that was -- together. It's more like I was just there..." On the absolute verge now. The edge of the nest. Fly or fall. "Are you willing to date again?" Twenty hoofsteps. "...yes." "Do you want to date Caramel again?" "...he... he's trying to be better, but he hasn't changed enough. That couch..." More firmly, "Fluttershy," and her charge looked at her. "It's a yes or no question. There are two possible answers. One is yes, the other is no. We can talk about the reasons for the decision later. Right now, I just want you to make one. Twenty seconds to think, Fluttershy, twenty seconds after I ask it again and then you give me one word. Do you want to date Caramel again?" The flame went up, and you -- -- you were moving closer. Your wings weren't extended. You had to keep them away from the fire. So you were pushing yourself forward. Aiming for Caramel, with your forelegs out. My field was up, trying to reach you. But you... you were trying to knock him back, away from the heat. You move towards flame. "No." Yes. "So tell him." "...I --" "-- before we reach the cottage. Tell him now, Fluttershy." The words had not been nice. Very few of Fleur's words ever were, and the ones which did emerge that way had often been ordered to. Fleur considered kindness to be something ponies could believe in, for most of what ponies believed was equally illusion. It was what Celestia had told her charge about Fleur: apparently just about the only thing which had been passed along. That Fleur wasn't nice. And she decided that lack was why Fluttershy slowly turned, trotted back towards the stallion whose posture, mane, and morale had all collapsed. "...Caramel?" He just barely managed to look up, and mostly wound up regarding the gems near the front of the dress. A cluster designed for kicking. "...I -- I know things weren't your fault tonight. The restaurant, the movie... especially the movie. I know about being afraid --" His head went down again. It meant he missed the tears. "-- but I... I still want to help Shimmy, I'll always help Shimmy if I can, but I -- for dating, I don't think we -- I don't want to do this again, not with -- not with you. Because it didn't feel like things happened together It's... I --" She broke. Fleur had been waiting for it all night. The sudden flare of wings, the desperate push away from the ground, the desperate dash for the cottage. She didn't even turn her head to watch as the pegasus sped away, heading towards whatever might pass for safety. There was no need. She just looked at Caramel, who hadn't even lifted his gaze enough to see her. The first thing she needed to do was learn how to accept somepony's interest. But you're not right for her. You never were. You never could be. The strength to come forward. The strength to push away. Tonight was about rejection. And she passed. Fleur looked at him. Kept the little shrug strictly internal, and trotted forward. "Come on," she openly sighed. "I'll get you home." And let her cry herself out, come back in the morning to talk about everything which happened... In a way, it was better that it had been a genuinely bad date. She'd been dreading the possibility of having Caramel do well enough to stretch the breakup out to so much as a week. "You need some rest, Caramel. And a hot shower." He sniffed a little. A rather ugly little snot bubble popped over his left nostril. "...everypony saw me run, Fleur," he just barely managed. "From a movie." They already knew you weren't much of a stallion. It's not like anything's going to change. "It'll look better in the morning." I have to be out here first thing in the morning. Before anypony other than Snowflake can speak to her -- and that was right: Snowflake would be at the cottage. Well, if she was lucky, Fluttershy would isolate herself immediately after arrival and stay that way until the crying jag had ended. "It always does. After you rest, once you think -- that's when you can think about what to do next, Caramel. I've been there. And now I'm going to take you home. It'll all look better under Sun." "You... you think so?" No. You're not strong enough. Whatever your pain is, being with somepony is how you deal with it. And now you don't have anypony again. "Yes." He finally got his head up. Trotted close to her, occasionally stumbled into her side. "I'm..." He swallowed. "You know you're not my type, right?" "I've seen how you look at pegasi," she stated. "I worked it out." "So you know... I don't just hang around you because of how you look." She nodded. "I think the theater bench is still wet." There was no answer for that one. Another stumble. She braced herself so as not to be knocked over, wound up propping him up. "Fleur?" She waited. "I'm... glad you're my friend." And she took her designated victim home. "One down," Discord told his research assistant. "As I said, and have now proven to satisfaction: not good enough. And the process will continue until a truly suitable future mate is found." "So," the book tentatively asked, "what do we do now? More research? Are we waiting for her next date?" There was creativity in chaos... "She'll be looking, of course," Discord considered. "And so will that Fleur. Perhaps they'll find somepony. And that pony will be tested. But in the meantime..." He did something horrible. He smiled. And then they were gone. The horrible smile, fully satisfied with the night's efforts, lingered until close to morning. She got up early, and did so after less sleep than she would have liked. It seemed as if the satisfaction had kept the nightmares away, but... well, it hadn't been easy, getting Caramel to bed. The partial trot back to the cottage had used enough time for the story to spread, and so some of the trip had been conducted with ponies giggling behind his passing, leg-tucked tail. Fleur needed to make time, and so cantered more than she normally did, not giving too much thought to how it disrupted the fur grain: reaching Fluttershy was the most important thing, and she could freshen up at the cottage. Then she realized that she really was out of practice, checked the path, looked in every possible direction for witnesses, ignited her horn -- -- and a little while after she finished, she was knocking on the cottage door. "Fluttershy?" No immediate answer. "We have to talk about last night. Break down what happened, and why it's a good thing. The sooner we start --" Hoofsteps, approaching from the other side of the door. Heavy hoofsteps. It opened, and the singularly unhandsome stallion, his eyes showing extra red from lack of sleep, looked directly at her. "She's gone." A thousand horrible possibilities rushed through Fleur's mind, tripping over each other in their rush to be the first to reach the front. She flew away she went to the other Bearers she ran she went to her birth home she couldn't take the pain I didn't teach her how to use her pain and she -- "They're all gone," Snowflake softly finished. "The mission came in fifteen minutes after she got home."