Early the next morning, Gadget and Crossfire waited quietly, patiently, in the hall just outside of Lockwood’s apartment. They were both exhausted, the former in particular, but that was to be expected since they hadn’t gotten a proper night’s rest. Gadget had taken the first watch while Crossfire got a few hours of sleep - nopony asked them what they were doing, but their planned answer was “forgot my keys”; Crossfire took the second watch while Gadget ran a “very important errand” before she got a few hours of sleep herself. Neither of them wanted to be the one to open the door, but it was already early morning and they were starting to get worried.
Luckily, they didn’t have to wait too much longer. The door creaked open and Lockwood stepped out of the apartment as quietly as he could. He was dressed in just his jacket, which had clearly put on in a hurry, and was carrying his bedsheets under his good wing. He didn’t realize Gadget or Crossfire were even there at first, so he jumped up in surprise when he bumped into Crossfire, who was blocking the hall specifically to keep him from leaving.
“Oh! Uh… h-hey, guys,” he stammered as he looked between them. “Good… um, morning? Is it morning?”
“Yeah, and I bet it’s good for some of us more than others, eh?” Gadget said, rolling her eyes and shaking her head, a coy smile on her face. “So, Lockwood, where are you heading off to so early in the morning? Hmm? Ooh, and what’s that you’ve got under your wing? A souvenir?”
“Nothing!” he blurted, tucking the bundle under his wing more tightly, which was hard to do since his wing was slightly rigid. “Nothing here. Nothing of importance, no sir. Err, ma’am. Sir and ma’am.”
“Hmmm, are ya sure? ‘Cause it looks like ya got some dirty sheets there,” Crossfire hummed, pointing at said sheets under Lockwood’s wing, which he could still clearly see. His hoof then shifted to tussle Lockwood’s disheveled mane. “An’ that’s a right nasty case o’ bedhead you’ve got there. Have fun last night ol’ buddy ol’ pal?”
Lockwood, face red with embarrassment, cleared his throat and tried to avoid their eyes. “Oh, uh... y-yeah. Um… I... I gotta go get these cleaned. Washed! Just regular ol’ laundry day. That’s all. And, uh, the laundry room is.... downstairs? So yeah. Downstairs, off I go?”
Gadget nodded. “Sure, sure. Of course you do. Perfectly normal to wake up at the crack of dawn to wash your sheets.”
Gadget pulled out her sidearm and lazily polished it with a cloth she drew from her pocket; Lockwood’s wide eyes locked onto the gun and he started to sweat. Then, Gadget smiled and gestured towards the stairs with a wide, friendly grin.
“Well, don’t let us keep you, Woody. Those sheets look like they need some attention, so hop to it. Chop chop.”
Crossfire clapped Lockwood on the shoulder, a similar grin on his face. “An’ please, take yer time. We’ll be here, waitin’, for when ya get back. An’ if we find out that anythin’ bad happened last night, we’re gonna have ourselves a lil’... conversation.” He gave a little look to Gadget, who casually aimed down the sight of the gun at Lockwood as she polished away.
“R-right…” Lockwood gulped and took a step away from the two, then, once he was clear, he rushed for the stairs as quickly as his hooves could take him.
As soon as Lockwood was out of earshot, Crossfire turned to Gadget and smirked. “He’s a heckuva lot more fun ta haze than Briarthorn ever was. Real skittish, like a rabbit. A really scrawny rabbit wit’ wings.” He shook his head and headed towards the stairs with a laugh. “I’ll keep an eye on ‘im. Y’all check on the mare o’ the hour.”
Gadget nodded. “Naturally.”
Gadget walked into the apartment to find Blackburn sitting comfortably on the couch, wearing her jacket, unbuttoned, her mane an absolute mess. She was eating straight from a packet of Dolor Blue - chilled, of course. The rest of the room was in equal disarray: the rug was askew, the couch was pressed right up against the wall, Lockwood’s undershirt was still lying on the floor.
Gadget rolled her eyes. She fished a small, packaged pill out of her pocket and opened it, took the pill out with her magic, then floated the pill over to Blackburn.
“Open up, Princess. Time for your medicine,” she said with a singsong authority.
Blackburn didn’t argue in the slightest, just opened her mouth obediently; she knew what the pill’s purpose was and wasn’t surprised that Gadget had procured one. Gadget placed the pill on Blackburn’s tongue; Blackburn closed her mouth and swallowed, washing it down with another mouthful of Dolor Blue.
“I headed over to Miracle’s a few hours ago to pick that little sucker up,” Gadget explained. “It wasn’t cheap, but Vaccine insisted that it’s one-hundred-percent effective and I trust her to know a thing or two about these sorts of things. It’s lucky we have such a reliable source of medicinal help. Can you imagine how ridiculous the process would’ve been getting it legitimately?”
Blackburn nodded, embarrassed. “Sorry you had to go through that. Things got… heated last night. Didn’t consider consequences.” She gulped, still trying to get the taste of the morning out of her mouth, but also as she considered just what the consequences could’ve been. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it, Princess. Just promise me that next time - because there will be a next time, knowing you two - you’ll be more careful about getting protection first.”
“I promise. Will requisition prophylactics, or more of those pills…” Blackburn turned red and averted her eyes from Gadget’s bemused grin. “After conferring with Lockwood on preference.”
“Glad to hear it. The last thing we need is going back to Hope’s Point and trying to cover up you getting knocked up. Bad enough we’ve got all this other junk to worry about.” Gadget wrinkled her nose. “Still baffles me how things worked out. We came here to give Lockwood the chance to get away from us. You did everything you could to give him the chance to cut ties, even told him all about Briarthorn. And yet…”
“Did not anticipate his dedication,” Blackburn murmured. “Did not anticipate… any of what happened. But don’t regret it...”
“Golly, I hope not, all things considered.” Gadget shook her head and grabbed a tube of Dolor Blue from the fridge for herself, then took a seat next to Blackburn on the couch. They sat in awkward silence for a solid few minutes before Gadget cleared her throat. “So. How was it? Was it everything you thought it would be?”
Blackburn’s mouth curled in a tiny smile. “Nice. No… wonderful,” she said with an almost wistful sigh.
Gadget put her hooves on Blackburn’s shoulders, looked her in the eyes, and smirked. “Well, congratulations, Blackburn. You did it. You finally got laid, and about damn time too. Welcome to the club. You go girl.”
Blackburn raised an eyebrow. “There’s a club?”
“Psh, of course there is. We’ve got a secret password and membership cards and everything. I'll get in touch with our New Pandemonium chapter and get you all hooked up.”
“...you’re messing with me.”
“Uh duh.” Gadget laughed and booped Blackburn’s nose playfully. “Glad to see you’re still you after last night.” She shook her head and gave a wistful sigh. “Now we just need to get Crossfire laid to complete the set.”
Blackburn stuck her nose in the air. “Impossible. Would need to slather a mare in succotash to even get his attention.”
Gadget and Blackburn shared a knowing look, then broke into a fit of giggles.
When Gadget regained her composure, she gave Blackburn another serious look. “So, how’s this relationship of yours going to work, anyhow? He lives here, he has friends here, he has family here. You don’t have any of that, apart from him. Are we taking him south with us when we leave? Are we staying here for a while to figure things out? What’s going on?”
Blackburn took a breath; she’d thought a lot about what came next before last night, but now had a new variable to account for. “First, need to remain in city for some time, arrange new resources from Virtuoso. Necessary work. Might take months, maybe longer. When done here, will need to arrange things at home. Make Crown Spectrum ‘official’ supplier, prioritize shipping procedures.”
“How about you and Lockwood?”
“Have agreed to keep… ‘us’ mostly secret. For now. Prevents him from being used to take advantage of me, of Crown Spectrum, and potentially of Hope’s Point. Unfortunate truth, necessary evil.”
“And you’re sure that he’s okay with that?”
“At first? No. But... convinced him it would keep him safe,” she sighed, shaking her head. “After what happened last week… he agreed. Only objection: not wanting to lie. Counterpoint: wouldn’t be a lie. Lockwood is not in a relationship with Thunderbolt. He is in a relationship with me. Ponies will ask about former, so will not be lying to them.”
“And what about taking him home with us?”
Blackburn paused for a long moment, then shook her head. “Too soon to discuss with you… or with him. Will be considering... options. Might need to arrange things at home first, will decide after other matters addressed.”
Gadget hummed, then nodded. “Well, it all sounds good to me then. I know you’ll do what needs to be done, and I know you’ll do what you think is right, and I know you’ll ask us for advice if you need it.” She rubbed Blackburn’s back gently, then sniffed the air and wrinkled her nose. “Ugh. You need a shower.”
Three Weeks Later
Crown Jewel’s dance recital was a lovely affair, and a particularly relaxed one at that. Now that the threat of Cotton Candy had been dealt with, Virtuoso wasn’t worried about any acts of violence ruining the event with his whole family - his real family - in attendance, as well as their friends and business associates.
Don Virtuoso, of course, as well as his wife, Ivory Charm, were in attendance; Blackburn, Crossfire, Gadget, and Lockwood were invited as personal friends of the Don; and, as Virtuoso’s new underboss, Lyrica was invited as well, and she brought along her wife, Sweet Cream. The latter was a cream-colored mare with a blue-and-pink mane that she wore in a series of braids. They were all dressed to the nines, of course,
Blackburn marveled at how talented Virtuoso’s daughter was at dancing after such a short time of learning and practice; the filly had only discovered her talent for it roughly a year before, but she seemed to truly be a natural of near-professional skill. Some of that she attributed to Virtuoso’s diligent acquisition of instructors, some of it to Virtuoso paying off whoever he needed to in order to make sure his daughter was given her chance to shine, and some of it still she wasn’t sure about.
That was, until Lockwood explained it. “That’s the dance she did the day she got her cutie mark,” he had whispered while Jewel was performing a smooth, flowing ballet maneuver. “Of course she’s more nimble than I am, but I like to think I gave it my all helping her put it together. It looks so much better now that she’s really developed it.”
“You may not have ever achieved your old dream, Lockwood… but you helped that filly achieve hers,” Blackburn had replied with a smile. “She’s living your dream now, too.”
Once the recital had ended, Virtuoso invited his closest friends back to his penthouse for dinner, drinks, and fun. He had his own personal chef, naturally, but he also helped with certain parts of the food preparation, particularly the marinara sauce; it was an expectation in Baroque culture that the dinner host prepare food for his guests, not leave it to somepony else, and Virtuoso was nothing if not a slave to the expectations of his upbringing.
Dinner consisted of some of the finest Baroque cuisine in the city, home-cooked with the highest quality ingredients Virtuoso’s ample bits could buy: eggplant parmigiana, spaghetti marinara, stuffed peppers, caprese salad, minestrone, and more, and of course, specifically for the young Crown Jewel, macaroni and cheese; incidentally, nopony questioned it when Gadget loaded her plate with more of the stuff than the little filly did.
After dinner was over and everypony had eaten, and once Crown Jewel had been sent to bed, everypony gathered on the patio outside to relax at the poolside, drink copious amounts of Virtuoso’s robust selection of fine wines, and converse like old friends.
“So, Lyrica, I hear some congratulations are in order,” Blackburn said, indicating Lyrica with a raised glass. “The Don’s new underboss, huh? Those are some pretty big horseshoes to fill, despite Cotton’s later actions in the position.”
“Thanks, Thunderbolt.” Lyrica raised her glass right back and smiled. “I’m grateful and honored that the Don trusts me enough to help him rebuild the Fantasia family empire. I know there’s not really much of a choice in the matter, being the only captain left and all, but--”
“Senza senso,” Virtuoso said, waving his hoof to dismiss her humility. “You’re a good mare, Lyrica. You were a good captain, too. You’ll do wonderfully. I believe that. Sono fiero di te.”
Lyrica nodded in appreciation to him. “Grazie, Don Virtuoso. I won’t let you down, I promise.”
Sweet Cream set her head tenderly against Lyrica’s and rubbed her wife’s back. “I’m so proud of you, hun. I knew you had it in you. And maybe now that you’re making the big bits, we can start having the family discussion.”
Lyrica’s cheeks reddened, and she turned her head as she took another long drink from her glass.
Ivory Charm turned to Lockwood with a polite smile. “So, Lockwood, ‘ow are you enjoying working wiz Zunderbolt? Is it everyzing you zought it would be?”
Her accent wasn’t Baroque like her husband’s, but Romantique, another of the ritzy Inner Districts, well known for three things: it’s top-class fashion, the stunningly romantic atmosphere, and the old-world cultural contributions. The founders of the Romantique District traced their family lineages back to old Utopian families from before the city was built.
“I’m enjoying the experience a lot. Lots of new things to learn, y’know?” Lockwood sipped politely from his glass. “For one thing, I learned that the tech sector is a pretty dang cutthroat field to be in, that’s for sure. Very competitive.”
“Oh, I can certainly imagine, but that’s not what I meant, dear. What I meant was, ‘ow are you enjoying spending so much time wiz ‘er,” she said, her mouth curling in a coy grin, her eyes shifting between the two pegasi. “You two ‘ave gotten awfully close, no?”
“I don’t know what you mean, Ivory,” Lockwood said, tilting his head.
“Oh of course you do, you silly stallion,” Ivory tutted, gently tapping Lockwood’s shoulder in a playful gesture. “I ‘ave never seen two ‘business partners’ so deeply involved as you two are.”
“We’re just business partners, Ivory. Friends at best,” Blackburn interjected with a tight-lipped smirk. “Nothing more than that, I assure you.”
This was a big, fat lie, of course. Blackburn eyed Lockwood out of the corner of her eye, admiring how handsome and classy he looked in the new black dinner jacket she’d bought him just for this occasion, plus his usual fedora. He cleaned up nicely, if she said so herself. Her mind had been drifting here and there over the evening to what she was going to do to him when she got him back to her apartment and out of said jacket. Not the fedora, though. She liked it when he left it on.
Ivory raised an eyebrow, skeptical, though her mouth curled in a knowing smile. “If you say so, Zunderbolt, I won’t ask furzer. A shame, zough, ‘e seems like ‘e would make somepony very ‘appy.” She took a little sip of her glass and gave Blackburn a wink. “You would certainly make a lovely couple, no?”
“Well, as much as I appreciate the compliment, I have to agree with Thunderbolt: there’s nothing going on between us,” Lockwood said with a smile. “But who knows, maybe I’ll find that special somepony someday. I figure somepony’s gotta give me a chance eventually, right?”
“Don’t hold your breath, Lockwood,” Blackburn quipped, sipping from her own glass with a cocky smirk. “You’re too scrawny to attract any but the most desperate of mares. Somepony would need to have terribly low standards.”
Lockwood put his hoof over his heart in mock hurt. “My goodness, Thunderbolt, what a thing to say. And I suppose you think you’re too good for somepony like me, is that it?”
“Oh, definitely. I prefer a stallion with a bit of meat on their bones.”
While the two had their back-and-forth, Virtuoso stepped up beside his wife and whispered, “They can deny it all they want mia amata, but there’s no way those two aren’t together. I know giovane amore when I see it, and you don’t do the sort of things that those two do for one another if there’s not something more.”
Ivory smiled and turned her head to kiss her husband’s neck. “Just like you did to win my ‘eart, my love?”
Virtuoso made to reply, but then, suddenly, there was a bright flash of light off in the distance, clearly visible from Virtuoso’s penthouse patio despite being far enough away to be in the Mid Districts. The light continued to flicker like a candlelight as the sound eventually reached them, a booming rumble that shook the glass windows behind them and sent ripples through the pool.
“What in the hay was that?” Lyrica muttered, hoof over her eyes as she tried to see, despite knowing the futility of trying. “Is that a fire or something?”
“There’s no way we could see a fire from this far away,” Blackburn noted, shaking her head. “Not unless it’s a big fire. We’re talking massive.”
“Well, that’s not out of the question in this city. Fires tend to get pretty big unless they’re in the Inner Districts or in Mid-South, where they’ve got good response time from the NPFD.” Lyrica turned to Sweet Cream. “Remember that one over in Mid-East a couple of years ago, burned down three neighborhoods before they managed to put it out?”
“Oh yes, I remember that one. That was a horrible weekend,” Cream said, shaking her head. “I have some friends that are still trying to replace their lost belongings… mourning lost friends and family. What a terrible fire.”
“It was the biggest fire in the last fifty years, I think,” Virtuoso said thoughtfully. “I remember that I was able to see it from here the whole time it burned. Even had ash getting in the pool.”
“So... it is a fire then?” Blackburn asked, looking between the three. “Seriously? How can a fire get so big?”
“Slow response time, poor standards of construction. And that’s just the majority of the Mid Districts. The Outer District is even worse, except the Gate of course,” Lockwood replied. He squinted carefully, clearly in deep thought, then turned to Gadget. “Say, Tinker, you wouldn’t happen to have any sort of gizmo that could tell us where that fire is, would you?”
“Pshaw, that’s easy,” Gadget replied, fishing out her datapad from her purse. “If it’s a fire that big, I’m sure it’s gotta be on the news. I can pull it up--”
Virtuoso dismissed that thought quickly. “Don’t bother with that, Tinker, we can all watch from out here. I’ve got all the best gadgets and gizmos bits can buy. Watch this.”
He trotted over to a panel by the wall and fiddled with some buttons, twisted a knob or two, and flipped a switch. As he did so, the wall above the pool opened up to reveal a large, flat television screen, which he turned on and tuned in to the news. The picture was more crisp and clear than any of the televisions Blackburn had ever seen before in this city.
On the screen, a purple pegasus stallion with a white mane sat behind a desk, dressed in a neatly-pressed suit.
“And in other news,” the anchor announced in a plain tone, “Dolorcorp has released an official statement that it is beginning its first trial phase of their newest flavor, Black. The company is seeking nutritionists to develop their newest product before moving on to further trial phases, with an expected release date within the next five years once the formula is perfected.”
From offscreen, a pony passed over a sheet of paper. The anchor took it, read it briefly, then nodded in understanding at somepony off camera. Then:
“Breaking news!” he declared, his voice suddenly full of pep. “A fearsome explosion rocked Mid-West’s Northwest Territory just minutes ago, destroying two apartment complexes and setting fire to the surrounding neighborhood. Civilians in the area are urged to evacuate their homes and businesses immediately, and to leave behind anything of nonessential value.”
“Did he say ‘Mid-West Northwest’? Wait, that’s where I live!” Lockwood blurted, eyes wide, face pale.
“The explosion reportedly originated from the sixth floor of an unnamed apartment complex, which inflicted catastrophic damage to a large portion of it and the neighboring building. NPAF authorities who happened to be on the scene claim that the explosion was due to an unfortunate gas leak that had been reported earlier in the day, but hadn’t been attended to--”
“And there’s the classic ‘gas leak’ explanation again,” Cream said, rolling her eyes. “With how often those happen you’d think our city has a problem properly installing gas mains or something.”
“Probably another military accident if the NPAF is there already,” Lyrica suggested. “Seems suspicious, don’t you think?”
“I always thought it was because they owned the news station?”
Lyrica shrugged. “Well, sure, I mean that’s probably part of it, I guess?”
“Do military accidents happen often?” Blackburn asked.
“Every few months or so, yeah,” Lyrica replied. “The NPAF tests new or updated weapons and stuff all the time, but they usually prefer to do field tests instead of using some sort of facility.”
Blackburn frowned as she wondered what kind of weapon the NPAF was testing that could cause that much damage. Some of the only things Solarian’s database constructor couldn’t gather information on were the specific goings-on in Pandora Tower and the NPAF’s experiments and developmental projects, as those things weren’t put into the city’s database. Even Gadget couldn’t hack into anything to get that kind of juicy info, and it was too risky to personally enter into any facilities the NPAF used, wherever they were.
The screen shifted from the anchor to live footage of the budding fire as it spread outwards from one of the destroyed apartment buildings. The blaze was all-consuming and had already spread through most of the city block; smoke was billowing upwards in a furious tower that the ponies could even now see from the patio. Several ponies were seen fleeing from the flames; a few in military uniforms were spraying the flames with torrents of water pumped from hydrants along the street.
The anchor continued speaking over the footage. “This footage is being sent to us courtesy of NPAF authorities on the scene attempting to combat the blaze while awaiting the arrival of the NPFD. As of now there is no estimated count of casualties--”
Lockwood pointed at the screen in abject horror; Blackburn, Gadget, and Crossfire paled at the sight, hooves raised to lips. “That… that’s my building…” he murmured, barely loud enough for anypony to hear.
“The anchor said the explosion came from the sixth floor?” Gadget said, turning to Lockwood in dismay. “Golly… that’s...”
Blackburn gulped, barely able to speak for a long moment. “I suppose it was a… a good thing we decided to stay for dinner, huh?”
Lockwood turned to Virtuoso in a panic. “Don, can I use your phone? I need to let my family know I’m okay. They don’t know I’m here.”
Virtuoso nodded and gestured indoors. “It’s just outside the dining room, Lockwood, you can’t miss it. Take all the time you need.”
“Thank you.” Lockwood hurried off inside as fast as his hooves could carry him.
Virtuoso watched him go, then hummed and stared off into the distance, tapping his hoof to his chin, deep in thought.
The ponies outside on the patio continued watching the news report as it went on for another several minutes before Virtuoso huffed and turned it off after it was clear that there wasn’t anything of use coming from watching it, just negativity. It was at this point that Lockwood came back outside, looking in slightly better spirits than he had when he’d gone inside. But only slightly.
“The family’s glad to hear I’m okay,” he said, fanning himself with his hat. “Though they’re definitely not happy about what happened, but I think I talked Shortcake out of having a heart attack. I’m… I’m trying not to have one myself. I lost… I lost everything…”
Blackburn frowned. She knew there was more at that apartment to lose than a few articles of clothing. The diary. The photograph. The only things Lockwood had left to remind him of his mother. Not to mention the tremendous loss of life at the complex, many of whom might have been ponies that Lockwood considered friends. The loss of life in general was terrible, of course, but all she could think about right now was him.
“At least you weren’t there when it happened,” Gadget said, putting her hoof on Lockwood’s shoulder.
Crossfire frowned and put his hoof on Lockwood’s back. “I’m sorry, ol’ buddy. If ya need somepony ta lean on, I’m here fer ya.”
Lockwood sniffed, adjusting his hat over his eyes. “Thanks guys… I appreciate it. I know I should be grateful, but… but still… my home… everything’s gone...”
Virtuoso came over and clapped Lockwood on the shoulder. “Don’t fret, amico. I know that this might seem sudden, but I think I might just have the perfect solution for your current predicament.”
Lockwood blinked, still in a daze and not quite processing what was happening. “You… you do?”
Virtuoso pointed off towards the south, pushing Lockwood’s chin over so he would follow his hoof. “I’m certain you’ve heard of those new apartment developments going on in Mid-South Central Plaza. Am I right?” He gave a meaningful, smiling look at Blackburn. “North Point, for example? Miss Thunderbolt’s complex?”
Lockwood looked between the two, then nodded, confused. “Y-yeah?”
“I just so happen to own one of those buildings. Southeast Point, as a matter of fact. Most of my captains and enforcers live in the Mid Districts, you see, and I wanted to have a convenient place where they could live, meet, and do business without the need to travel so far. This was before the whole mess with Cotton Candy, of course, but I do still own the building.
“The thing is, the complex has been under renovations for the past month - a couple of troublesome code violations the old landlord let slip through - and it finishes up next week. I’d already lined up a few ponies here and there to take charge of running the joint, but… seeing as you’re a good friend to me, and seeing as you’re in need right now, how would you like a new apartment?”
“A… a new apartment? In Mid-South Central?” Lockwood shook his head, completely flummoxed by the whole thing. He was still in shock from everything else and couldn’t properly speak responses “Don, I… but I couldn’t possibly afford--”
Virtuoso laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Oh no no, you won’t have to pay for it, my boy. I’ll take care of everything.”
“I… you… but... ”
“But I know you, Lockwood. I know you’re going to refuse the offer the moment you get the chance. But I’m not giving this to you gratuito. You’re going to work for me now, capisce? I need a new landlord running the building, and I want you to be that landlord.”
“You… you want me… to be the… the landlord of your new... building?” Lockwood stared off into space, lost in thought. “I… but I--”
“That’s right. The last landlord cost me tens of thousands of bits in renovations because of those oversights I mentioned, so I want somepony to take the position that I trust to do a good job. You’ll get paid, of course, but you’ll have to put in a lot of work making sure everything is top-notch.” He smiled and tipped Lockwood’s hat. “Think you can handle it?”
Lockwood opened his mouth to speak, but still couldn’t find any proper words, so it took him a few moments to manage his response. “I… okay, Don… that sounds… that sounds fair. I’ll be... happy to work to, uh... pay for the apartment--”
“Senza senso, amico. As the landlord of that fine establishment, you live rent-free,” Virtuoso explained with a small smile. “Instead, all that money you’ll be earning by working for me will go towards getting you some new things: clothes, for example?” He popped Lockwood’s collar. “You can’t live your life in just this jacket, my boy.”
Lockwood’s eyes widened; he was starting to process everything and realize just what he’d been agreeing to. “Don, really--”
Virtuoso leveled Lockwood with a serious look. “You know me by now, Lockwood. You know I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. You’re my new landlord for Southeast Point, and that’s final.” He pat Lockwood’s cheek gently. “You’ll do just fine. I believe in you.”
“Okay… okay, sure. You… you’ve got yourself a deal, Don. Uh… boss? Should I… should I call you ‘boss’ now?”
Virtuoso laughed. “We don’t have to change anything about us, my boy. You can still call me by my name, Lockwood, no need for such formalities. We’re friends. Amicos.” He turned to Thunderbolt and gave her a coy grin. “As for you, Thunderbolt, I’d like to make a request: take Lockwood in for the week until his apartment is done getting set up.”
Blackburn stared at Lockwood, as she had been this entire time, unable to show him any real sympathy in her eyes, unable to hug him tight, to kiss him gently and comfort him like she wanted to. She had to keep that all to herself, and she hated it, but it needed to be done. But this request? This request was something she could do. She could do this as his business partner. She could do this as his friend.
She nodded. “I suppose I could do that for you, Don,” she said, giving Virtuoso and small smile. “But only if it’s for a week, and no more than that. If I have to spend one minute longer with him, I’m sending him over here and you can babysit him.”
Virtuoso smirked and nodded. “Grazie, Thunderbolt.”
Lockwood gave her a small smile as well. “Yeah… thanks, Thunderbolt.”
Blackburn turned to him. She couldn’t stop herself from giving him just the smallest of knowing grins. “You get the couch.”
That was another big, fat lie.
One Week Later
Lockwood’s new apartment was Room 16-8:45 of the Southeast Point in Mid-South’s Central Plaza, as Virtuoso had explained and expected. The building, despite the Don’s proclaimed “renovations” was barely of much better quality than North Point, where Blackburn and her crew lived, but that still made it better than anything else in the Mid Districts; again, it wasn’t anything compared to the Inner Districts, but Lockwood could clearly see that it was more than suitable for his needs.
By “more than suitable”, of course, Lockwood meant “too much”, at least in his eyes.
There was a large bedroom with a good-sized bed; the kitchen had all the appliances one could ever need; the living room was big enough to accommodate several guests and came with a big television set, a sofa, and a reclining chair; and the bathroom was clean and comfortably-sized with a roomy shower. The other furnishings were more than adequate, better than anything in Lockwood’s old apartment for certain, and even a little better than some of the things in Blackburn’s.
Crossfire helped Lockwood carry his luggage into the new apartment, three suitcases full of the things that Lockwood would need to make this his permanent home: clothes, dishes, pillows, sheets, toothpaste, etc. Blackburn and Gadget, meanwhile, gave the apartment a good lookover while the stallions organized Lockwood’s stuff.
“Golly. This place is pretty nice, actually. Nicer than ours, even, and that’s saying a lot,” Gadget noted as she checked out the kitchen, particularly the roomy refrigerator. “Sheesh, this doofus gets all this space all to himself? Totally unfair.”
“And he gets it for free, too, thanks to Virtuoso,” Blackburn added, shaking her head and smiling. “City’s standards baffling. Landlords live free in relative luxury. Bizarre.”
“I’m getting real jealous here, Blackburn. I might have to steal your coltfriend so I can mooch off him.”
“Welcome to try,” Blackburn quipped with a smirk.
Lockwood exited his bedroom, dressed in his new outfit: a dull brown rain jacket over a plain white shirt, plus his fedora. He looked to Gadget and Blackburn and let out a breath of surprise. “Wow. Okay, so, this place is a little much for me. I’m freaking out a little. I guess I just got so used to living in my old apartment, y’know, and you saw how small that was. This is bigger than your place--”
“We were just discussing that, actually,” Gadget snorted. “You’re sitting pretty here, flyboy. Virtuoso hooked you up like nopony’s business. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he actually likes you. Hmph. Can’t imagine why.”
Crossfire stepped out of the bedroom as well, shaking his head. “This here bedroom’s as big as the one back at our place an’ he gets it all ta himself.” He clapped Lockwood on the shoulder and smiled. “Y’all got yerself a real treat, Lockwood, I tell ya what. Finally get ta live the way y’all deserve fer all the good stuff y’all do fer ponies.”
Lockwood chuckled to dismiss his embarrassment. “C’mon guys, I know it’s great and all but it’s not my fault--”
“Not blaming you,” Blackburn said gently. “Just making observations. You deserve a nice place to live, after what you’ve done, what you’ve been through.” She glanced at the floor and smirked. “Needs a new rug, though. Shall we start looking?”
“Ah ah, you’re not buying me a rug this time, Princess,” Lockwood chided, wagging his hoof. “I already had a hard time letting you guys buy me new clothes, so I’m buying a new rug with my first paycheck, got it?”
Blackburn smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “Got it.” She turned to Gadget, then Crossfire, then back to him. “So, all moved in?”
“Yeah, I’m all set up here guys. Thanks again for helping me get everything settled, I really appreciate it.” He scuffed his hoof on the floor. “And, uh… for letting me stay with you all week.”
Blackburn grinned and leaned forward to kiss him again. “Was my pleasure.”
He leaned forward to meet his lips with hers, but she playfully tilted his hat over his face instead. Blackburn knew better than to get too amorous when her friends were in the room with them, and she rather enjoyed teasing him. It made the moments they did share that much more enjoyable; she’d never even considered doing anything of that sort with Briarthorn, but with Lockwood… it was just different.
She cleared her throat. “Now, we celebrate. Dinner?”
“Dinner sounds nice, actually,” Lockwood said as he pulled his hat up. “I need to learn the good places to eat around the area, in case I need to recommend anything to anypony, don’t I? So, where were you thinking? You know the good places I assume?”
“Baroque restaurant on West Tenth: L’Artisan's Ristorante Baroque. High quality. Where we first met Tommy Gun… since he invited us to party where I first met you, felt we should honor him.”
Lockwood smiled and nodded. “I like the sound of that.”
*****
L’Artisan's Ristorante Baroque was still the same tip-top classy place it had always been, but now, at dinner time, without one of Don Virtuoso’s captains keeping the place to himself, it was able to show off just how popular it really was. The restaurant was divided essentially into two halves, the front half with all the smaller tables for pairs, the rear half with larger, family-sized tables. The restaurant was especially crowded this evening; large families ate together in the back, and couples young and old enjoyed each other’s company in the front.
Despite the crowd, Blackburn knew that, as one of the top business partners of Don Virtuoso, she had a little bit of pull; okay, a lot of pull. So, while they would have to wait a short time for arrangements to be made, it only took a mention of the Don’s name to get the maitre d’ - still Upper Crust - to situate things in a way that was satisfying to Blackburn’s tastes.
Which of course meant that she and Lockwood shared a private table for two, alone, in a completely separate room in the restaurant, which was reserved typically for assorted impromptu meetings during busy hours. Crossfire and Gadget remained outside the room at their own little space large enough for them to eat and keep an eye on the crowd; Crossfire, who still wasn’t much on Baroque cuisine, stuck with a salad for the night, while Gadget ordered the biggest bowl of macaroni and cheese they had.
The private room was wonderfully cozy, just big enough for a table - complete with red-and-white checkered tablecloth - two chairs, and little else. They scooted their chairs so they weren’t opposite one another on the table, but close enough that could see each other clearly and not have to reach across the table to touch one another’s hooves. Blackburn had never done anything like this before, even with Briarthorn; a private, romantic dinner setting like this was almost an alien concept to her until now.
“Now, I know I’ve never been here, but I can tell from the way their menu is organized which items are the best,” Lockwood said as he browsed the menu with her; he was the connoisseur between the two so far as Baroque cuisine was concerned. “What did you have last time you were here?”
Blackburn paused to recall her meeting with Tommy Gun all those months ago. “Tommy and I split the stuffed peppers, and I had the eggplant parmigiana. He had the minestrone, said theirs was, and I quote, ‘mwah’.” She kissed her hoof and gestured into the air. “Molto delizioso.”
Lockwood nodded sagely. “Tommy knew Baroque cuisine really well, better than me I’d say. The minestrone is definitely one of the best things on the menu. The eggplant parmigiana is probably pretty popular and I don’t doubt that it’s good, but I don’t think it’s your best option unless you’re craving eggplant. Might I suggest the three-cheese ravioli?”
“Cheese isn’t one of my big things, actually,” Blackburn admitted with a gentle shrug. “That’s more Gadget’s deal, even though the macaroni is more her speed. I think she doesn’t like the texture of ravioli.”
“Fair enough, it’s not for everypony. How about spinach cannelloni? Are you a fan of spinach?”
Blackburn shook her head. “Not particularly, except in a few things here and there. I actually don’t like it cooked, to be honest.”
“Also fair, spinach is a bit of an acquired thing.” He browsed the menu a bit more, then smiled and pointed. “How about the spaghetti marinara? It’s a classic Baroque dish, and they have a double portion here that’s just perfect for sharing. We can go in together on it.”
Blackburn’s eyes brightened. “Ooh, that sounds nice. There was some at Virtuoso’s last week, right? It was really good.”
“I’ll note that Virtuoso used his grandfather’s marinara recipe for that, and I’ll be the first to say that if Virtuoso’s grandfather had decided to open a restaurant instead of going into ‘the business’ he might have been a happier stallion. Buuut, it’s really hard to screw up marinara.” He smiled and snapped the menu closed. “Let’s do it.”
Blackburn pressed a little button on the wall nearby, and less than a minute later, Upper Crust opened the door with a pleasant grin on his face. “Ready to order signora? Signore?”
“We are,” Blackburn said, passing the menus over to the maitre d’. “We’re going to share a double portion of spaghetti marinara, and a bottle of your most expensive wine, per favore.”
Upper Crust shifted his gaze between the two, then his grin curled into a wide, knowing smile. “Ah, may I ask, signora, is this evening one of the… hmm, romantic persuasion?”
Blackburn and Lockwood shared a brief glance, and Blackburn smiled and nodded. “It is, but don’t tell anypony. I have a reputation to uphold, you understand.”
“My lips are sealed, singora,” he replied, drawing his hoof across his mouth and throwing away an imaginary key. “May I suggest, then, that you allow L’Artisan's to make this evening special for you? I assure you, it will be well worth your while. It is very popular among the younger couples, such as yourselves.”
Blackburn considered this, eyeing Lockwood for his opinion; his soft smile in her direction suggested that he was all for it, and that was all she needed. “Hmm… okay, you’ve convinced me, Upper Crust. We’ll do it.”
Upper Crust bowed slightly, his smile wide and genuine. “Meraviglioso. I will inform the chef and make preparations. You will not be disappointed, signora.” And off he went, a spring in his step.
The wait was relatively short considering how crowded the restaurant was, but Blackburn figured her pull gave her preferential treatment, or maybe it was the “special” that Upper Crust had arranged. Speaking of the maitre d’, he returned a few minutes later with everything they’d ordered, and then some, within his field of magic: a large plate of spaghetti bathed in marinara sauce, a bottle of what Blackburn knew was very expensive wine, two glasses for said wine, a basket with fluffy breadsticks and butter, two dishes of olive oil and balsamic vinegar, and a tall, thin, red candle. He spread everything out on the table neatly, lit the candle, poured wine for the pair, then bowed low.
“Buon appetito,” he said. He lit his horn again, and the room’s lighting dimmed just slightly so that the candle was the dominant light source. “Enjoy.”
Then, he left.
As soon as he did, Blackburn and Lockwood heard music coming in through unseen speakers: a strumming mandolin accompanied by a perfectly-played accordion. These two instruments were all that were needed to play a very particular Baroque melody:
“♫Oh, this is the night, it's a beautiful night
And we call it bella notte.”
Blackburn felt the heat rise in her cheeks as she and Lockwood started to twirl some spaghetti into their forks. The tune sounded eerily familiar; the lyrics, too. Where did she know them from? Lockwood didn’t seem to recognize it, or if he did, he wasn’t having the reaction she was.
“♫Look at the skies, they have stars in their eyes
On this lovely bella notte.”
Then, she realized it, and another rush of heat rose through her cheeks. She knew this particular tune, from the instruments playing to the lyrics. They were from particularly romantic, no, iconic scene from a popular cartoon she’d seen as a little filly long, long ago. Despite everything about her life being opposed to embracing such a thing, she still remembered that scene fondly.
“♫Side by side with your loved one,
You'll find enchantment here.”
The fact that she and Lockwood were sharing spaghetti together just topped the whole thing off with the perfect little bow, as if the restaurant specifically prepared for this. She noticed after taking a few noodles to herself that they were awfully long. The one currently in her mouth was, in particular, very long. As was the one in Lockwood’s mouth. Wait, Lockwood had suggested the idea of splitting the spaghetti. Had he known? Was it his idea?
“♫The night will weave its magic spell,
When the one you love is near!”
The heat in her cheeks rose further as she slurped and chewed the noodle, pondering the situation with her typical eye for details. No, there was no question about it. She saw exactly what was happening here, it was too perfect, too well-organized. Lockwood seemed completely oblivious, but she was sure he was pretending to be.
“♫For this is the night, and the heavens are right
On this lovely bella notte!”
Blackburn was not about to be manipulated into such a clichéd moment; nopony manipulated Princess Blackburn. The noodle she was slurping right now, right this second, was long enough that she was not supposed to notice that Lockwood had picked up the same noodle, and that he was slurping it just right so that they’d meet halfway. Ha! If he expected her not to notice, he was sadly mistaken.
She bit down on her noodle so that Lockwood would finish slurping it up alone, and since it was no longer taut, it snapped up and splattered just a little bit of sauce on his nose. He seemed surprised, and looked at her, embarrassed.
Then, without a word, without warning, she leaned in and kissed him of her own volition, not because some damned spaghetti had forced her to do so. No noodle would ever get the better of Princess Blackburn, she’d make sure of it.
When she broke the kiss, she looked him right in those gorgeous, golden eyes of his. She hesitated for half a second, the words caught in her mouth like water behind a dam. For all the nerve she’d shown earlier in denying those treacherous noodles their victory, she found her nerves stymied now by those damned eyes of his.
It gave him enough time to go first. “I love you…”
A feeling of hot fire spread through her body from her heart outwards, making her blurt out some words herself. “I know.” She paused, realizing she hadn’t quite said it. “I mean… I love you too. I love you, Lockwood.”
Nothing more needed to be said.