With the care of an artist placing a small dot of paint on a canvas to represent a pony’s pupil, Twilight placed a single drop of the clear liquid into the beaker. The brown liquid inside quickly turned a bright shade of yellow.
“So far so good,” she announced to her partner. “What we have now is a universal antibody to equine blood. It should react only to the unique variety of antibodies and magic-infused elements that are present in a pony’s blood.”
Phillip blinked back at her through his safety goggles. “And the theory is we can narrow it down to specific blood types.”
“Right!” Twilight nodded. “We have different types of blood here.” She indicated a row of test tubes, each filled with a dark red liquid and labeled with the different blood types. “If we can figure out how to make this work, we’ll be at the forefront of one of the most important discoveries in forensic science!”
“If you don’t blow up the living room,” Daring commented dryly from the couch, where she sat with Spike, both of them currently engrossed in a book: Daring with Hayana Pones, and Spike with the latest adventures of Batmare.
“Relax,” Twilight said placidly. “Nothing’s going to happen.”
“Says the pony who once set Phillip’s mane on fire,” Daring replied, rolling her eyes.
“And nearly burned down her house experimenting with dragonfire,” Spike added, not looking up from his comic.
“And turned me into a butterfly-pony-thing,” Daring continued.
“And once turned herself into a banana tree,” Spike said. “And once reversed gravity inside the school, which meant that everypony had to take their tests on the ceiling. And—”
“Okay, okay, I get it,” Twilight grumbled, shooting them both a vicious glare. Phillip turned away so no one could see that he was smiling.
“Hey, you know we like having you two over; makes for a nice break,” Daring commented. “Just wish you wouldn’t drive our home insurance costs up.”
“In my defense, magic can be kind of unpredictable at times,” Twilight huffed.
“Well, so can life,” Phillip said placidly.
“Truer words were never spoken,” Twilight nodded. “Now, shall we get to work?”
“Right,” Phillip nodded. “Where do we start?”
Twilight began to list theories and possibilities while carefully drawing several tubes of liquids and powders out of a saddlebag. Daring and Spike returned to their books, but kept an ear on the conversation.
“You sure that’s enough?” Phillip asked Twilight, a distinct note of sandpaper-like dryness in his voice. Daring and Spike both looked up to see Twilight spooning a white powder into the yellow liquid.
“I’m sure,” Twilight said. “I did some experiments on my own and got encouraging results with this compound, but I think just a little bit more should be enough…”
Daring and Spike exchanged glances, then simultaneously dove behind the couch. They crouched down and covered their ears.
“Just one more scoop…”
Twilight’s sentence was punctuated by a loud bang and a flash of purple light. Daring and Spike waited for a count of five to make sure there were no follow-up explosions, then carefully peeked over the top of the couch.
The flask of yellow liquid lay on the floor, its smoking contents spilled everywhere. Phillip and Twilight were nowhere to be found.
“Twi!” Spike called, walking around from behind the couch. “Twi! Phil!”
“Down here,” a high-pitched voice called. Daring and Spike looked down and paused.
Phillip and Twilight looked back up at them. They seemed unharmed, but both of them had been shrunk down to the size of kittens. Daring and Spike stared for a moment, then both of them collapsed against each other, howling with laughter.
“Well, back to the old drawing board,” Twilight muttered, her voice having risen to a comically high pitch. “As soon as we figure out how to get back to our normal size.”