//------------------------------// // Three // Story: Tired and Emotional // by Cackling Moron //------------------------------// Some time passed, or at least a little bit of time, some of it notable, most of it not. There were no magical hijinks or shinegans, which was a pleasant change of pace. Instead it was simply life trundling on for a week or so, quietly grinding onward. Rarity took the opportunity this afforded her to really knuckle - or the nearest pony equivalent - down and get some work done, barely finding the time to surface and go off and do yet-more errands. And when she did, quite by chance, she ran into Twilight. She too was out and about doing things after almost non-stop work having kept her inside, albeit of a different sort. Life is riven with coincidences and unexpected encounters. The universe practically ran on them. “Twilight, darling! I haven’t seen you in, well, days! Not since I saw you last!” Rarity declared after quite literally bumping into Twilight. “By definition-” she started, but Rarity could see where it was going immediately. “You know what I mean! However have you been?” She asked. “Oh you know, busy busy, just doing stuff,” Twilight said, chuckling, shrugging, scratching her neck. She’d been so deep in so many books the last few days that she’d kind of lost how actually speaking with words was meant to go. It was coming back to her, but in spurts. “How very descriptive of you, Twilight. I too have been engaged in ‘stuff’. I’ve been very productive with my ‘stuff’ which is lucky as I had a lot of ‘stuff’ that needed getting a handle on and - if I say so myself - I got all the ‘stuff’ done that needed doing and then some more besides!” This was a lot for a very tired and frazzled Twilight to take in. “...what?” She asked, bewildered. Rarity frowned. “I made dresses, dear. A lot of dresses. And one pair of trousers,” she said. A very fine pair of trousers at that, too, some of Rarity’s best trouserwork to date, were she of a mind to actually say so, which she was not. Twilight caught up. “Oh. Oh! That’s great!” She said. “It is!” Just for a change of topic and just to keep things going Rarity then asked, brightly: “Have you seen Rhys recently?” ‘Rhysently’ was a word that popped into the heads of both mares, who also both decided to keep this a secret forever. No good could come of such questionable wordplay. “No. Why?” Twilight asked. “Just curious, dear. I haven’t of late and, well, you’re the only other pony I can think of that he might have had cause to visit,” Rarity said. “Other than who?” “Why, me!” Rarity said, as though this should be obvious, and when Twilight failed to immediately see how obvious this was Rarity pressed: “Well, he might have come to see me. He has precedent. He did before, after all.” “When he was drunk. And thought your house was his house. On account of being so drunk,” Twilight pointed out. If she’d meant this to puncture Rarity’s sense of importance in this rather specific scenario she was to be disappointed.  “True. But still. The point remains! You are the only one I am aware of that he used to see on a regular basis. Or semi-regular, as it might have been. So I merely thought it might be sensible to ask.” Rarity deciding that she was one of the ones that Rhys would visit at all still seemed like a bit of a jump to Twilight but clearly it was what she’d settled on, so hell. No sense in attempting to undermine that right now. “I haven’t seen him, sorry. After the other day he hasn’t come around. Hasn’t really had any reason to, I guess, given that I haven’t mentioned that I’m trying to see if there’s a way around what happened,” Twilight said, shrugging. Twilight’s present time-portal based research was in very, very early stages and so Rhys was not yet required anyway. It was all theoretical at the moment, and she didn’t need him moping around the place to help her theorise. Later, if things looked promising, then he could be told and brought in if she needed him. For now, no. Hence. Rarity frowned, concern mounting by degrees. “At all?” She asked. “Not once, Rarity, no.” “Hmm…” Rarity hummed, thinking, looking off to the side. She had gone around to his the day after, just as she’d planned, but he had not been at home. Or at the least there hadn’t been any response to her knocking, so she’d just assumed that he was doing something and that was that. Hammering on the door and yelling likely would have done more harm than good, she’d reasoned at the time. Not to mention being an uncouth thing entirely unsuitable for a proper lady.  If he’d been in he would have stuck his head out, at least, she had concluded at the time, and that had been the end of it for that day. Beyond that she hadn’t given it much thought, assuming that, as he’d said, he was fine and that he’d probably pop up at some point and she could ask him then. Only not, apparently, as he had not popped up. Twilight watched her closely a moment then asked: “Are you worried about him? Which snapped Rarity out of whatever she’d been thinking about. “No. Well, yes. Perhaps. Just a little bit. I mean, he’s hardly the most sociable but it’s still a touch unusual not to see anything of him, isn’t it? For days on end?” Not many days agreeably, but still. More than one seemed cause for concern in both their books. And sure, they’d both been shut up inside during those days so the possibility existed that he’d been pulling cartwheels twenty-four seven throughout town while they’d been busy, but it didn’t seem that likely somehow.  Twilight frowned, scratched her chin. “Now you come to mention it. I don’t think anyone’s said anything about him...” Normally he might be spotted once or twice, slouching around. Sometimes ponies would wave and he would make the minimum amount of gesture in response as required by politeness, but generally nopony bothered.  By and large these excursions were just for him to get something to eat before immediately heading back to his house to shut himself away again, but that was still at least some sign of life. Nothing at all was worrying now they’d noticed and now they thought about it. “Should we...go check?” Twilight asked, feeling an unpleasant pang of guilt for not having picked up on any of this sooner - it simply hadn’t crossed her mind. “Perhaps we should…” Rarity said, thinking, then concluded and so adding: “Ah! But, not together, I think, hmm? Wouldn’t want to overwhelm the poor boy, would we? You know how he can get.” She signed this off with a breezy laugh, just to demonstrate what a lark all this was to her. She was taking it seriously, obviously, but not overly seriously. This should be clear. She was only lightly concerned, only in passing. This was not the first time this particular argument had come up, Twilight noticed, and while it still held water she did feel she was starting to notice a pattern. “So I’ll go?” She ventured, though something told her that this wasn’t how this conversation was going. Rarity gave a tiny jolt, eyes widening for a fraction of a second before another breezy laugh snapped in to cover up this tiny flutter. “No no! I’m sure you must have all sorts of things demanding your attention, Twilight, no! I’m having rather a quiet day as it is - I’ll go,” she said. “You’re sure?” “Of course of course, it’ll just be a flying visit I’m sure - I’m sure he’s perfectly fine! Well, as fine as can be expected, at least, given his recent, ah, circumstances. Likely we’ve just not seen him about of late, and that’ll be all it is. Coincidence, you know. These things happen, life goes on,” Rarity said with a deep and thoughtful wave of a hoof. This Twilight regarded with some confusion. “They do, it does…” She said.  Not a whole lot else she felt she could add, really. - Rarity’s reasoning for wanting to go and check on Rhys herself was more-or-less as she’d explained it to Twilight - one pony on their own would hopefully make him feel less like he was being ganged up on, something that would probably only make things worse, whatever things turned out to be.  The other side of the reasoning and the side that she’d kept to herself was that, apropos largely of nothing, thanks to her prior handling of a drunken, emotional Rhys she felt that she now understood him on some deeper level and so would be better able to determine if he truly was as fine as he claimed to be. So ran her logic at least, and to her it seemed iron-clad. And so it was that she was humming quite happily and quite confidently to herself as she went on her way, across and through town, onward towards the periphery of Ponyville, where sat Rhy’s house. His was a small house, formerly abandoned, out toward the outskirts as said. He’d been offered larger - offered bespoke, indeed, but he’d politely declined - but had picked this one.  From what Twilight had said this was on account of him feeling that it would have been wasteful otherwise. Not that he’d done much with the place since. It was livable, just, and wasn’t falling down yet, which was a start. The garden was free of weeds, too, on the plus side. It was free of weeds because it was entirely free of life, contrasting rather alarmingly with everything else around it. How he’d managed that was an open question the answer to which no-one really wanted to go to the trouble of asking. Taking all of this in Rarity swallowed, and made her up the path to the front door whereupon she raised a hoof and she knocked. No response. Much the same as last time. She knocked again. Again, silence. This time though Rarity felt a mounting sense of concern. Once she could have shrugged it off as him just not being in - it could happen, after all - twice was just unlikely. This was Rhys, after all. Where did he have to? What did he have to do? “Rhys?” She tried, loud enough that she hoped he’d be able to hear on the inside, not so loud that it might cause the beginnings of a scene. “Are you home?” Some more knocking, some more nothing. “Hello?” Rarity said, rearing up to peer through the grimy window set up in the door. This showed her nothing, at least at first, then she caught sight of something moving. Just in time, too, as seeing this meant she avoided being knocked back just a moment later. The door opened, creaking. And there in all his half-dressed, unshaven, shabby glory was Rhys. The glory in question was even more pronounced than it usually was, which was saying something. Rarity could tell immediately that he had not washed, either, probably not since she’d seen him last. It would have been difficult for her not to tell this. “Rarity?” He asked, squinting in the sunshine, stooped to peer through the pony-sized door. “What - why are you here?” Taking a second or so to get over the veritable wall of Rhys wafting out toward her Rarity put on a friendly, casual face - as might be expected from an acquaintance just popping by because they happened to be in the area - and drew herself up on the spot. “Well, I was simply passing by and I thought to myself that I should say hello, darling! I haven’t seen you since, well, the other day, yes, and I was wondering how you were doing! That’s all.” Playing it cool here, was Rarity. Rhys squinted some more, briefly glancing about to see if she’d brought backup and if this was some sort of intervention or something. She hadn’t and it wasn’t. “Doing? Doing fine. I said, didn’t I? Doing fine,” he said. “Good, glad to hear it. Oh, and I was also here to thank you for your note, of course. Your thank you note. With its abundance of thank yous,” she said, just to keep things on track. Rhys blinked. “Note? Oh, yeah, that. I - I really am very grateful for what you did, you know. Might have fallen into a ditch and drowned otherwise, heh. That would have been fun for someone to wake up to,” he said. Rarity wasn’t sure what to make of that and gave a muted, polite laugh that segued into an awkward cough. A bird swooped, saw how the conversation was going and abruptly changed angle to swoop away again. “Please may I come in?” Rarity asked. This Rhys hadn’t expected at all. He hadn’t expected visitors in the first place, ever, and having it be Rarity - who did not like him, he knew - was a cut above. That, and he knew what a state his house was in. He glanced back and then back to her again, staring up at him with those big, big eyes, lashes fluttering. He hadn’t been prepared for that, and for a second his brain just kind of fizzed as it tried to comprehend what it meant or how he should feel about it. “Uh, I don’t - you probably don’t want to do that, Rarity. I haven’t tidied,” he said once he’d recovered. “Nonsense! I can stand a little mess.” Rhys wasn’t so sure about this. “...I don’t think that’s true.” Rarity huffed. “Honestly, people think so little of me. I’m a grown mare! Now, I’ll ask you again, please may I come in?” Rhys had never been the best at standing up to direct requests, polite or otherwise, and so he caved, standing aside. What did he have to lose anyway? “If you insist. But like I say, it’s not great,” he said. “Thank you,” Rarity said, smiling a small smile of triumph and holding her head high as she trotted in. This meant that she did not immediately see what it was she was trotting into. That came a few seconds later, at which point trotting stopped and the smile of triumph became the lopsided gawp of muted surprise. For somewhere with so little in it the place managed to look remarkably untidy. This was something of an achievement in and of itself, Rarity would have to admit, but it was an achievement that was likely better enjoyed at a distance. The mustiness, the darkness and the disarray was really what got to her though, as all these elements worked together to make the inside of Rhys’s house simply an unpleasant place to be. Like being stuck inside someone else’s shirt on a hot day. In a dust cloud. With your eyes closed. “How...cosy, Rhys,” she said “Did warn you…” he mumbled. Rarity stood considering what she was standing in the middle of for a moment or two before reaching a decision. The decision was to fling open all the curtains and crack a window. This helped immensely.  The place was still managing to be both sparsely-decorated and alarming untidy, but at least it was now light and had air flowing through it, which was a definite improvement. Rhys might have been left squinting and blinking in the sudden sunlight, but he wasn’t complaining out loud, so there was that. “Fuckin’ bright, Jesus…” he grumbled, shielding his eyes. “Uh, there any particular reason you...came to my house and...opened my windows, Rarity?” “I hadn’t seen you in a few days, dear, and I’m not the only one. I - we - were starting to feel a little worried,” she said. Rhys just stared at her dumbly. “...you were? Why?” Rarity couldn’t quite work out whether he was being deliberately obtuse here or if he was genuinely in such a funk that he was asking an honest question. Neither prospect was especially exciting and though she opened her mouth to say something she quickly decided that a heftier dose was required. She looked around. “Can we sit and talk?” She asked, pleasantly enough. “Sit? Uh…sure...we got...” Rhys’s turn to look around, squinting in the brightness. He then pointed and Rarity turned to see a pair of chairs. One was upright, the other was not. The one that was not also appeared to be missing all but one of its legs, which went some way to explaining why it wasn’t the right way up. “Sure, yeah. Think this chair’s still in one piece. The other one’s, ah, broken. Yeah,” Rhys said, being a master of stating the obvious. Gingerly, Rarity moved over to the two chairs, considering giving the broken one a nudge but then deciding against it.  It wouldn’t exactly tell her anything she couldn’t already see. “How did that happen?” She asked and Rhys shrugged. “Sat down a little too hard.” It had been a second hand (second hoof?) chair to start with, and hadn’t been designed with humans in mind. That was Rhys’s excuse at least. “These will do,” Rarity said, feeling that it was likely as good as it was going to get. “Sit, please.” This she said while indicating that Rhys should take the unbroken chair. “Oh no, you take that one,” he said. “I insist,” Rarity said, unbudging. “You’re the guest,” Rhys then said, taking the executive decision to plonk himself down right on the floor cross-legged. A power move and a surprising display of initiative, also pleasantly polite in a kind of aggressive way. Rarity rather appreciated it. Not only for the courtesy it showed, but also because it meant she got the chair that wasn’t broken. She sat in it.  “So…” Rhys said when nothing immediately happened after that. “...we’re talking?” “We are,” Rarity said, brightly. “Okay. Uh, about what?” This was probably the longest conversation he’d had since the last time he’d spoken to her, and that was only a fuzzy, hungover memory at best.  “Oh, I don’t know. Anything you like! Whatever’s been on your mind.” As Rhys had in actual fact spent the last however long either trying this best not to think or else sinking into a mire of despondency whenever he did think, being as how there was only one thing that kept insisting on popping up in his head. Home, gone. Everything, gone. Everyone, dead. That sort of thing.  Discussing what had been on his mind was not a prospect that appealed. Rarity seemed to realise this herself almost as soon as she’d spoken, pupils narrowing in sudden, bowel-clenching worry. After all, given what had happened and given what it had already given Rhys cause to do - late-night drunken door-knockery - what would extended time on his own have given space for if not further dwelling? For a moment she felt that perhaps she’d been hasty in coming here, inviting herself in and opening up all the windows, but only for a moment. If there was one thing that Rhys clearly, obviously needed at this time it was a friend and, well, who better? “Ahahaha well, ah, perhaps not, hmm? Though if you want to talk about, er, that then you’re more than welcome, Rhys, though perhaps you’d prefer to keep the tone more cheerful?” Rarity said hurriedly with a self-effacing, mea culpa smile. Rhys managed half the start of a chuckle. “Not a whole lot of reasons to be cheerful. Or hopeful. Learned my lesson on that one,” he said. Rarity found herself frowning at him, and not for the first time. “I’ve told you before, darling, don’t say things like that,” she said. “Sorry,” he said and he would have built upon this apology but words failed him - he didn’t really know where to start or where to go, so decided on going nowhere instead, pulling his knees in against his chest and put his arms around his legs. “Were you really worried about me?” He then asked not looking at her. “We all were,” Rarity said. “Yeah but, you’re the only one here,” Rhys pointed out. Couldn’t really argue with that. Straight facts. But she could explain it, which was the next best thing. “Well it would have been myself and Twilight, but I felt that having too many ponies coming to see if you were alright would be a touch, ah, overwhelming for you?” Rarity said. Rhys considered this. “That’s fair. Good shout. Thanks,” he said, then adding: “Why you though?” “Why not me? For one, only Twilight and myself are aware of, ah, what happened and beyond that, well, why not me?” She asked. She couldn’t think of anything else to say, really. Why not her? “But you don’t like me,” Rhys said, flatly. This was something that had appeared previously in his - otherwise rather pleasantly rambling and meandering - note, and Rarity hadn’t liked seeing it written down any more than she’d liked hearing it. She shook her head fiercely, such was her dislike. “Simply not true! I know we haven’t always been on the warmest of terms with one another but I would never go so far as to say I didn’t - and don’t - like you, darling. I barely know you! Nopony does, really. You’ve always preferred to keep to yourself which is completely fine, of course. It’s simply that in light of - ah - recent events I thought you might benefit from some company. Or at the least just somepony to talk to,” she said. “Doesn’t seem fair that someone should have to suffer through listening to me…” Rhys mumbled, eyes on the floorboards. There came a tinkling sound and Rhys found, to his mild alarm, his chin being brought up so he was facing Rarity again. This action came as such a surprise to him that he didn’t really know what to do other than just stare at Rarity’s arrestingly large, serious eyes. “It’s not something I’m doing on sufferance, I care that you are happy,” she said. Sounded like she meant it, too. “Really?” Rhys asked. Rarity nodded, smiled. “Really,” she said. He imagined this must be a cultural thing. While this inexplicably sincere empathy might have confused him, a human, he supposed it was perfectly normal for ponies to be so concerned about the feelings of strangers.  Right? Maybe. Possibly. At anyrate and despite himself Rhys did actually believe her, to his surprise. Realising this felt very odd. With a little effort he managed to break out of the weird, tickly, magical grip on his chin and go back to examining the floor boards. “Very nice of you, then. Appreciate it, Rarity. Thank you,” he said. “Think nothing of it. What else are friends for, after all?” He glanced up to check whether this was the part where she started being insincere, but it wasn’t. She meant this part, too. “Thanks, Rarity,” he said. There then came a strange noise which Rarity could not immediately identify or place. Rhys also winced, which added to the confusion. A moment later though it clicked: what she was hearing was his stomach grumbling, and grumbling loudly enough for her to even hear it at all. “When did you last eat, Rhys?” She said, causing him to blink, not having expected the question. “Hmm?” “When did you last eat?” She asked again. “I, uh...it was…” Rhys said, scratching his head, wracking his brains. He couldn’t remember. “Probably not that long ago,” he concluded. “Which would be when?” Rarity pressed. “...not that long ago?” As far as answers went it needed work. Rarity looked around to see if she could find what she was looking for on her own, couldn’t, and so looked back to Rhys and asked sweetly: “Rhys, you wouldn’t mind pointing me in the direction of your kitchen, would you?” He did so, dumbly, and Rarity hopped down off her chair and trotted into Rhys’s kitchen. The idea being that, once there, she could see whether there actually was anything he could eat, the idea behind that idea being that him eating something would probably be a good thing, all things considered. The kitchen, however, was not doing so great. Very quickly Rarity discovered that there was not a lot of food, and what little there was was now probably not what most would consider food anymore. Things were furry that were not meant to be furry, and that was just the least of it. “I think I just saw that move. Whatever it is. Or was,” she said, gravely.  Her eyes then alighted on the bin, sat unhappily in the corner, bottles piled atop whatever had been crammed into it, those bottles that couldn’t be balanced just nestling in around the base. There were a few. “No. No this won’t do at all.” This was not an environment conducive to anything, and frankly Rarity didn’t have the faintest idea of where the best place to start would be. Other than food, obviously, but there wasn’t any of that to be had, at least not here. “Should probably clean this up, huh?” Rhys asked, making Rarity jump by appearing behind her with a silence she hadn’t expected. “It might prove wise. But, ah, perhaps not right away if you’re not feeling up to it, Rhys. No need to rush. Just perhaps, er, don’t dawdle either.” Rarity backed out of the kitchen. Slowly. In case she startled something. “Well, what with it being so close after lunch I was rather going to suggest we see what we could make out of what you had to hoof but that does not appear to be an option,” she said, tapping her chin, then: “I know, why not have lunch at mine?” Rhys baulked. “I don’t wanna impose on you anymore than-” he started, but Rarity cut him off, turning her head, closing her eyes and raising a hoof - erecting a wall of not-having-it. “I shan’t hear of it! You’re well within your rights to say no but I won’t have you thinking that you’re an imposition as you simply aren’t, dear, not at all. It’s my offer, fairly made, take it or leave it. Or take it,” she said and not for the first time her eyes seemed just that bit bigger and more potent, though Rhys put that down to an overactive imagination on his part, compounded by lack of sleep, food and most other good things. “Well...guess it’d be rude to turn down such a generous offer…” he mumbled, Rarity beaming as she felt herself inching towards winning this particular push-and-pull. “Frightfully rude,” she said, nodding, getting a look from Rhys for her troubles but letting it glance harmlessly away. “Should probably put some more clothes on first though, right?” He asked. Rarity blinked. She had quite forgotten that he’d spent the whole of their conversation so far in his undergarments, on top of which also forgetting that, for a human, this was apparently considered an issue. She wasn’t sure what his apparent lack of concern for it up until this point signified, but doubted it was anything good - so this newfound sense of modesty could only be a sign of improvement! Probably, maybe. Probably a cultural thing, she imagined. “By all means,” she said. “Cool, cool. Hang on a tick,” he said, shambling off and up the stairs. The house creaked as he moved about and Rarity cast her eye about the place again, looking over when she heard Rhys making his way back down once more, in trousers now, still pulling on a shirt. And it was then that Rarity remembered that she was actually the one responsible for Rhys’s clothes, at least beyond what he’d shown up in. This fact had quite slipped her mind, something she had been quite glad of. They’d been items she’d made way, way back when just after Rhys’s arrival and during his integration, as it were. They’d been made without measurements and just off-the-cuff, based on the information gleaned from Rhys that he disliked being naked.  That being the case, they worked. They just worked too well and covered too much, requiring him to tuck and roll to keep from tripping over. He didn’t mind. “You made these, didn’t you?” Rhys asked, bunching up and tucking the voluminously baggy shirt so that it didn’t billow like a sail quite so much. “Yes…” Rarity said, in the manner of one who’d prefer you not mention such a thing. Rhys stood in his ill-fitting, hoof-stitched clothes and looked down at himself, twisting about to get a fuller picture. “They’re good,” he then said. “There’s no need to rub it in,” she said with a pout that hit Rhys with an almost physical force. “What? No. I really mean it, you did really well. Who else could have just made something for an alien just from, uh, did you have a picture or what?” He asked. “A description,” Rarity said.  Not even a height! Just a gesture to indicate ‘about that tall’! They might as well have asked her to work blindfolded! And in the dark for good measure! She’d still done it, obviously, but she hadn’t been happy about it. Still wasn’t, looking at the results. “See? Who could do that! You did that. They might as well have asked you to work blindfolded and in the dark but you still made this and look! It fits me! Well, it doesn’t not fit me. I couldn’t do that. That’s, uh-” Rhys realised he was being overly effusive, something that in his experience never ended well, and so he reined it in. “-it’s good. Really good.” For her part Rarity had actually been rather enjoying what he’d been saying and found his abrupt capping-off something of a disappointment. After she’d fed him she might broach the subject again, she felt, just to hear some more of his thoughts. And the nice things he’d been saying. Those too. Who knew Rhys could show enthusiasm! Certainly not Rarity. “Thank you darling, glad to hear it. Ready to go?” She asked, reminding Rhys that all of this was leading up to him having to leave the house, something he had not done in a few days on the trot at this point. He swallowed. “Uh, yeah. Sure,” he said. Tail swishing Rarity clip-clopped happily over to the door, opened it, headed out only to pause when she realised that Rhys was dawdling. Turning in place in his still very-dead front garden she looked back and saw him still standing in the front door. “Rhys?” She asked, perplexed. “You don’t have to do this, you know. It’s fine, really. I’m fine,” he said. Rarity huffed. No backing out now! “And have you got all dressed up for nothing? I couldn’t abide knowing I’d been party to such a thing. You’ve laid your table - as it were - now you’ll have to eat off it. Now come along,” she said. Magic enclosed his hand and tugged him along, yanking him forward and across the threshold, from inside to outside. He got the message and got moving, having just about enough time to swing the door closed before he was dragged out of reach. “That feels weird,” he said. The chin thing had felt weird enough, but that had been just a light cupping action. This was full-on gripping and it, as said, felt weird. Kind of tickly and spongy and numbing and firm all at once. Like having pins and needles while someone was giving you a brisk handshake. “I’ll let it go if you promise not to go running away from a free lunch from a friend.” “...friend?” The word caught him completely off-guard. Rhys had spent quite some considerable time carefully constructing things in his head in such a way as to make it impossible for him to have friends here. After all he’d barely had friends back home, and they’d been human. Here he was some strange-shaped thing that didn’t belong - it simply didn’t add up. And yet there the word had been. From Rarity of all people! Baffling. And man was it bright outside. Rarity, smiling, head held up, continued to canter happily forward at pace, still pulling Rhys along kind of beside her, mostly behind her. “Of course! We’re all friends here and that includes you,” she said. Again, baffling. “It does?” Rhys asked. “You’re here, aren’t you?” He tried to think of a way of puncturing that, but couldn’t come up with anything in the time he had available. “...technically yes,” he conceded. “Then you’re a friend. It’s quite simple, darling,” Rarity said. Rhys tried to think of a pithy or downbeat response to this but while his brain was grinding on the issue Rarity cut in again with: “Don’t overthink it.” This put an immediate wrench into Rhys’s train of thought somehow, and all progress he’d made on saying something to his own detriment went out the window. He sighed. “Alright. Can you let go of my hand though, I think people are looking.” “Only if you prooommiisseee,” Rarity sing-songed. “Fine fine, I promise I promise,” he said and Rarity obligingly released his hand, giving him a look back over her shoulder just to make sure he kept moving, which he did. “Colourful horses…” he grumbled, though now at least he was walking next to her and not behind her.