//------------------------------//
// Chapter Nine: Blank, to be Frank (or, Fix-It: Part IV) 
// Story: On the Horizon 
// by mushroompone 
//------------------------------//

Sunflower lived in a modest Manehattan apartment with a potted plant out front. She probably hadn't been the one to plant it there, of course, since this was the kind of place to provide you with a pothos or two. And that was pretty nice.

I'm not the kind of pony to know things about architecture, but it was the sort of building you saw in paintings of Manehattan. Like it was the quintessential location for life in the city.

It was nice, I guess. Brick, with a set of concrete stairs leading up to the door. I don’t have a good way to measure that stuff. Everything in Canterlot is old and expensive, but it occurred to me that there may be old and cheap places in Manehattan.

I trotted up the steps and examined the buttons to the right of the door. This particular building seemed to hold three apartments, one to a floor.

On the first was somepony who went by B. LEDE. The name had been typed onto the little slip of paper, with only slight smudging.

The second floor was the home of one coco, written in a humble curling script and tucked to the far left of the paper.

Up on the third floor--the penthouse, I guess--was Sunflower. She had added a rudimentary doodle of a flower beside her name. Otherwise, the label was unremarkable.

I pressed the button. It made a horrible little 'tzat' sound.

There was a pause.

"Yeah, c'mon up," said a voice from the other end. The intercoms filtered it to a fuzzy and distant sound, but I could still hear the heavy Brontz accent in Sunflower's brief greeting.

The large front door clicked as the lock unlatched, and I pulled it open.

Apartment complex lobbies are rarely something to write home about, and this one was no exception. It had the same smell as a freshly-shampooed rug; clean, in an inoffensive and character-eliminating way. There weren't really any patterns to speak of on the rugs or walls, mostly just solid colors with perhaps a gentle heathering. All of said colors were deep earth tones, effectively fading into one's peripheral vision while also disguising stains.

The elevator was on my right. I used my elbow to whack the button marked with an up arrow.

The doors slid open right away, and I was greeted by a new smell (what I will carefully describe, contrastingly, as 'offensive cleaner') and not a single color one might call ‘vibrant’ or ‘pleasing’. It was like the mathematical average of every elevator in Equestria.

It slid up to the penthouse with a distant squeal and let me off with only the slightest shaking.

Sunflower was standing at the door.

I got a… let's call it a feeling off of her.

She had a very pink coat, and everything else about her attitude and appearance seemed to be fighting against that natural blunder. She had an incredibly rich blonde mane, in color and texture, which had been painstakingly… well, I dunno what you did to a mane to make it roll down your shoulders in perfect, luscious waves (clearly), but it was doing that. There was also a flower in her mane, which was definitely a daisy and not the obvious sunflower. Points for originality, I guess?

Sunflower generally looked bored, tired, and frustrated. She leaned against the doorframe much in the manner of a school bully leaning against a locker, and glared at me with utter contempt. Or maybe judgement.

Me. The pony who was trying to be helpful.

"Twilight?" she asked.

"Um…" I stood frozen as the elevator doors closed behind me. "Yep!"

She nodded slowly, looking me up and down. Suddenly I was very self-conscious about my… everything.

I curled my tail against my flank and sort of shied away from her, as much as I tried to appear nonchalant about it.

"'Kay," Sunflower said. "Come meet Babs."

She turned and headed into her apartment, neglecting to leave the door open for me. I had to gallop forward and catch it in my magic just before it closed.

Sunflower's apartment was modest and simple, not unlike the lobby. Basic furniture, basic colors, basic patterns. Few obvious pieces of decor. I got the feeling that this had little to do with Sunflower’s stylistic choices, and more to do with the relative impermanence of these living conditions. 

“Babs!” Sunflower shouted. “C’mon, y’sitter’s here!”

I tried not to show the animalistic fear I felt at Sunflower’s volume. Thankfully, she wasn’t looking at me, and so didn’t see me flinch.

There was a distant clattering sound as Babs presumably made her way out to see us.

Sunflower looked back at me. At last, an emotion other than frustration registered in her eyes. “Listen, she’s kinda shy, okay?” Her voice was very low, a whisper but not. “She probably won’t wanna hang out with you or nothin’. Don’t worry about it, just make sure she doesn’t kill herself before I get home.”

I struggled to find my voice for a moment. “O-oh! Okay, that’s… I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“It will be. She’s a good kid,” Sunflower said. “I’m just not cool leaving her alone yet. She’s still pretty young.”

“Right…” I muttered.

“Babs!” Sunflower bellowed. This time, I flinched very visibly.

“I’m comin’!” Babs responded. Her voice wasn’t unlike her sister’s in the accent and tone, just pitched up a tad.

Some more clattering sound, and Babs tumbled out of her room.

A little filly for her age, I thought. Her face was so round and youthful, made more so by the incongruously short and harsh mane cut and the sprinkling of very light freckles. She had a real runt-of-the-litter look to her in general, actually.

But the way she walked--the shuffling steps, head tucked down, tail curled over her flank--struck me right in the chest.

“Say hi, Babs,” Sunflower instructed, not exactly gentle.

“Hiya,” Babs murmured to the floor.

“This here’s Twilight,” Sunflower explained, as if I were a fish in a tank rather than a pony standing in the room. “She’s not gonna bug you, she’s only here if somethin’ bad happens.”

Babs looked up. She had the widest, roundest eyes I thought I’d ever seen. “Like what?”

Sunflower rolled her eyes. “Like you start puking up a lung? I dunno.” She gave Babs an almost-affectionate noogie. “Try not to, ‘kay?”

Babs grumbled and swatted Sunflower’s hoof away.

I didn’t really know these two enough to ask about the situation, but it was… interesting. Sunflower had to be no older than myself, and yet she seemed to be taking care of Babs all by herself. Where were their parents? What had happened to split the family up like this?

Sunflower was trying to comb Babs’ mane into a presentable shape, babbling instructions and warnings and well-wishes. Even though Babs put on a show of being annoyed, and Sunflower put on a show of being strict, the two seemed apprehensive about parting ways for the night.

“I’ll be back before you know it, okay?” Sunflower said, a hoof on Babs’ tiny shoulder. “It’s just a little interview. Only an hour or two.”

“I know…” Babs said. “I’ll be fine, Sunny.”

“I know, I know.”

Babs’ gaze flicked over to me. I tried to cast my own eyes down to the floor, but I don’t think I did it quite fast enough.

Sunflower sighed and straightened up. “Okay. Emergency numbers on the fridge,” she informed me, back to her matter-of-fact detachment in the blink of an eye. “Babs already ate, so you don’t need to worry about dinner. I’ll be back around eight, no later than nine.”

I cleared my throat. “Okay. Sounds good!”

“Hm.” Sunflower looked me up and down one last time. “I’ll pay when I get back.”

I nodded hesitantly, chewing on my lip.

Sunflower returned my nod, hers much more curt and professional, and was out the door in a flash.

Babs and I stood together in the empty apartment.

Only now, trapped alone with an unfamiliar child, was I starting to realize just how small the place was.

I looked over at Babs. “Uh… promise you’ll try not to puke?”

Babs stared at me. Now the sisterly resemblance was more than obvious; they had just the same glare. It was somehow even more piercing with those gigantic eyes, set into that round and foalish face.

Not a glare, I guess… something else. Judgy. Or suspicious, maybe.

“Or… y’know what? It’s cool.” I shook my head. “No worries. I can h-handle anything.”

Babs held my gaze a minute longer. She took in a sharp breath, puckered her lips, and blew her bangs out of her eyes, all without breaking eye contact.

I clucked my tongue. “Wanna listen to the radio?”

“No.”

I swallowed. “Do you mind if… I listen to the radio?”

“Whatever…” she said in a harsh, low whisper.

Babs pushed past me (which didn’t feel like much, I’ll be honest) and trotted right back into her room. I heard the springs of her mattress creak as she leapt up into her bed.

Okay.

Now just me. In somepony else’s apartment.

That was… weird.

Maybe good weird?

The apartment was what I guess you’d call ‘open concept’, though I’m honestly taking a shot in the dark as far as what that might mean. There wasn’t any sort of division between the entry, the living area, and the kitchen-- it was just one big space. General use.

It had all the basics--couch, coffee table, fridge, counter, dinner table--but it felt weirdly minimal. Lacking in the goods, supplied with the bare minimum.

There was a big, if cheap-looking and dusty, radio on a table near the couch.

Damn, when was the last time I actually sat on a couch? 

Weeks?

I was suddenly very eager to sit down on the couch. Even from the back it looked pretty soft. Softer than the floor of the van, at least.

I trotted towards the couch, putting on a little burst of speed at the last second and launching over the back of the couch. My landing was as bouncy as it was cushy, and I coughed at the release of dust and perfume scents that clouded around me.

Lots of dust in here.

Did that mean they’d been around a while? Or the opposite?

I pushed the thought out of my mind. You’re not here to snoop, Twi. Just make sure Babs doesn’t choke on a twist-tie and you’re home free.

The radio was up above my head from this position. I reached up and turned it on, very soft, and listened carefully to the fuzzy sounds of an unknown local station. They were on commercial break. Something about a cleaning product… maybe dish detergent? Hard to tell.

I closed my eyes.

Almost like home.

The detergent commercial ended in a zippy little jingle, and the DJ did her best to transition back into her segment.

“Gosh, I love that Liqui-Brite stuff,” she said, almost wistfully, as if she were recalling a long-lost lover. “My kids always manage to get everything grass-stained during Summer Sun, Liqui-Brite always takes it right out.”

I rolled my eyes.

“And speaking of the Summer Sun Celebration!”

Okay, fine. Points for recovery.

“We’re only a week away, and everypony here at WROC is counting down,” she continued. “But, no matter what you’re looking forward to--the food, the family, the parties--we know that it’s all better with a little music. Let’s continue our summer-hits marathon here with a personal favorite of mine: ‘Bubblegum Bop’.”

Ah.

And a least favorite of mine.

Maybe it was our experience in writing and performing music, maybe it was just that we were all sort of snooty about pop; either way, Vinyl, Lyra, and myself really couldn’t stand the tooth-aching sweetness of some of the more recent hits. 

For me, I think, it was the ear-worminess of it all. No matter how little interest I displayed in the music, how hard I tried to think of something else, one little line would manage to burrow deep into my subconscious. That line would quickly become a tool of homebrewed psychological torture during panic attacks, skipping like a broken record over the myriad of other spiraling thoughts in my mind.

I tuned the radio to the next station.

This one took me into the middle of a much more tolerable song. 

It had a tense, taut beat more felt than heard. Over it was a… I don’t wanna say ‘sloppy’, but that’s kind of what it was; a loosely strummed melody on guitar, melting from measure to measure, note to note. The vocals were in a mythical land between speech and tune. Had I actually sung the notes the vocalist was merely suggesting, it would have sounded like a completely different song.

Strangely, I still could hardly make out the words. Something about running… or hiding, maybe. The tempo would hit instances of such rapid increase that it felt as if the song was tumbling down a hill. And then, suddenly, it would drop back to its lazy self.

I hummed experimentally along with a few bars. The melody was easy enough, very repetitive over an ever-changing backdrop of musical texture.

Then Babs turned up her own stereo.

The radio was drowned out in an instant by loud, aggressive… dare I say amatuer heavy metal. The kind of thing mini-punks can convince their parents to purchase for them because, despite how it may look, there is no dreaded ‘parental advisory’ sticker on the front.

The sticker was a point of pride, especially at Babs’ age. But I guess her sister knew better than to believe the not-at-all clever lies foals tended to cook up.

I turned the radio up a bit and leaned in closer.

Babs, who must have chemically sensed the volume change, retaliated.

One of the downstairs neighbors was already pounding on their ceiling with a broom.

I clicked off my radio.

Babs turned her stereo down to a volume which was barely acceptable.

Whatever. Kids gotta kid. I’m sure a foal her age being parented by an older sister was going to stir up all sorts of shit. I could only imagine what it would have been like to grow up with only Shining Armor to look out for me… not that he wouldn’t have done a good job. That’s just a fucked-up situation, y’know? No older sibling should have that kinda responsibility.

But it wasn’t my job to go in there and pep-talk a foal I didn’t know.

It was my job to call an ambulance if she broke something.

She’d be fine.

I rolled onto my side, resolving to close my eyes and try to enjoy the music along with Babs, but the motion made my stomach lurch.

Suddenly, I was overcome by a dark pit in my chest.

I sat up, The couch cushions rustled under me.

It actually took me a second to identify the source of the pit. My first thought was that I’d forgotten something important (the cause perhaps nine out of ten times). My second was that I was having one of those motherhood adrenaline rushes simply because I had been placed in a caregiver role. That was probably a more terrifying thought than the initial fear.

Eventually, though, it came to me:

Here I was, cutie-mark crusading, and I wasn’t even going to attempt talking to Babs? I was just gonna sit here, passively collecting a couple of bits and gaining absolutely no experience that could count towards a special talent.

What a waste of time!

I mean. It wasn’t really my business.

But wasn’t it, though?

The way she walked. The way she talked. The way she blasted her bad, angry-filly music to drown out the world. She was like a tiny me in almost every way.

And all I remember about being that age was that it sucked balls. Big, sweaty ones.

I sighed, deeply and filled with prospective regret, and got to my hooves. The walk down the unfamiliar hall to Babs’ door felt a little like the walk to the electric chair.

Babs had left her door wide open. If that’s not a sign she wanted to talk, I don’t know what is. Slamming your door before a sulk is one of the best parts.

She was curled up in a ball on her bed, facing away from the door. Her bedroom was a noticably sterile place; not much of anything personal to be seen, just some cardboard boxes and a shelf filled with some very uninteresting-looking books.

Everything in there was just so generic. Most foals I know want everything to be themed, y’know? Superhero themed, pirate themed, animal themed… like, there’s no such thing as ‘just a lamp’. It’s a flamingo lamp, or an anchor lamp, or a cactus lamp. Something stupid and kitchsy.

Babs’ lamp was just a lamp, though.

I cleared my throat. “Hey, Babs?” I asked.

She didn’t seem to notice.

“Everything okay?” I tried, raising my voice a bit more. “Your, uh… your music’s awful loud.”

Babs sighed. “Go away.”

Okay, so… not crying. That was good, I guess.

I shuffled my hooves. “Bad day at school?” I called to her, from all the way down in my chest.

“It’s Saturday.”

I chuckled in embarrassment. “Good point…” 

Babs didn’t seem eager to rub that one in.

The more abstract gloom associated with being a kid was tough to get at sometimes. Mostly because the kid themselves had no idea they were going through some shit; they just picked the nearest thing and assigned a meltdown to it.

I guess today it was… me?

Maybe being thought of as irresponsible? I guess at that age I would have liked to be trusted alone for an hour or two. Whether or not that was wise was out of my perspective at the time.

“Cool music,” I said.

It just sort of fell out.

Babs sort of stiffened. “Huh?”

I cleared my throat again, and raised my voice over the screaming vocalists. “I said, ‘cool music’!” I repeated. “Is this Canner?”

The foal sort of shifted, as if she wanted to roll over, but couldn’t quite bring herself to do so. “Um… Steel Gelding.”

I nodded. “Very cool. I listened to them when I was younger.”

Babs didn’t respond.

My awkward meter was really pushing its upper limits, and I was half-tempted to just quit while I was ahead. Like, hey! I talked to her, and I didn’t make things measurably worse. Total win for me.

But, standing here, looking at her… I couldn’t help but see myself.

Actually, now that I really thought about it, this whole foalsitting thing wasn’t entirely foreign to me, either. When I was that age, I had had a regular foalsitter who felt more like a sister than anything. I remembered having some pretty great days with Cadance… not days like this at all.

I took a breath, channeled Cadance’s great-with-foals attitude, and smiled. “Hey, I know your sister won’t be gone for too long, but would you mind coming to hang out with me?” I asked. “It’s kinda lonely out there.”

Yes, if there was one thing foals loved, it was getting to be the adult.

At least, that’s what I always wanted when I was a foal.

Babs hesitated. “But you’re a grown-up.”

Oops.

“Well…” I scratched my temple with one hoof. “Not really? I only just graduated high school.”

“Why would my sister leave me with somepony who’s not even a grown-up?”

I clucked my tongue. “I’m grown-up. I’m just not a grown-up,”

At last, Babs rolled over to look at me. “That’s stupid,” she said, which totally eliminated any positive feelings I had about seeing her face.

“It is not!” I replied, stomping my hoof. “It’s-- it’s-- nevermind. Do you wanna come out or not?”

Babs looked at me.

She had a weird look in her eyes. Honestly, it was a look I was getting used to; a sort of distant recognition, perhaps tinged with indigestion. I was starting to think it was just a thing ponies in Manehattan tended to do, and that it might not have anything to do with me.

Wouldn’t that be nice?

But she was still staring.

I took a wary step back.

“Hey…” Babs pushed herself all the way into a sitting position. “You don’t have your cutie mark. What’s wrong with you?”

I looked down at my own blank flank.

I think for a second I was just stunned. The second after that, I spluttered something that was hardly Ponish. I guess there were a lot of things I wanted to say, but I finally settled on, “Nothing?”

Not the best response. Not the worst, but not the best.

Babs reached over and turned off her stereo. The resulting silence left my ears pulsing.

“But you’re a grown-up,” she reminded me.

I rolled my eyes. “Just because I’m older than you doesn’t make me a grown-up.”

“Well, you’re more grown-up than me!” Babs exclaimed. “And ponies already make funna me for bein’ a blank flank… it must be loads worse for you…”

Ah, shit.

A little too much like me, she was.

I sighed. “Honestly, ponies don’t say that stuff anymore,” I said, crossing one hoof over the other. “At least… not to my face.”

“How come you don’t get a fake?” Babs asked. She pulled her haunches up to her chest and hugged them tightly. “Sunny told me some ponies get fakes.”

Huh.

Why don’t I get a fake?

“Uh…” I brushed my mane out of my face. “I guess I don’t really care?”

It was like her little brain fractured right in half.

Poor kid.

She sat there, frozen, for a while. Trying to figure out how that worked, I guess. Her eyes flicked all over my face, brows twitching almost imperceptibly, looking for the sign of a lie. She wouldn’t find it, though.

I cleared my throat. 

Babs sort of startled, then looked down at her mattress. I was starting to think that her misery was rooted entirely in being a blank flank.

That made me feel like the biggest dick in the universe. Marching in here, telling her I didn’t care… real nice, Twi.

“You can turn your music back on,” I said softly, then turned to go.

“Wait!” Babs called after me.

I looked back over my shoulder and listened as Babs tumbled off her bed, and stumbled out of her room to stand next to me.

She stared up at me, waiting patiently for me to do or say something more.

“What?” I asked.

“You don’t care?” Her eyes were like dinner plates. She blew her bangs out of her face.

I sort of half-laughed, and continued back to the living space. “I guess not. I never really thought about it before, to be honest.”

“B-but…” Babs galloped through the hall to catch up with me. “What do you do?”

I cocked my head and looked down at her. “What do I do?”

“For… like, money and stuff,” Babs mumbled. “How do you work without a cutie mark?”

I laughed lightly. “I just do stuff like this, mostly.”

This only seemed to confuse Babs further.

I made my way to the couch and sat down on one end, instead of taking up the entire length like I had last time.

Babs predictably hopped up on the other end. “Like foalsittin’?”

I nodded. “Foalsitting, repairs… y’know, temp stuff,” I explained. After seeing the blank look in her eyes, I rephrased: “Odd jobs. One-time things.”

“Oh.” Babs nodded.

“I’m still trying to get my cutie mark, y’know,” I added. “I haven’t given up on it or anything. I’ll get it someday. Just haven’t found the right thing. I don’t think that’s something to be embarrassed of.”

“Yeah…” Babs breathed, looking down.

I chuckled. “Doesn’t sound like you agree.”

She sighed and slid down against the couch. “All the other ponies get to go to camp and on vacations and stuff. One of my friends got her cutie mark in scuba divin’!”

I furrowed my brows. “Uh-huh…”

“My sis can’t afford to take me scuba divin’!” Babs explained, exasperated. She covered her eyes with her hooves. “It costs more than livin’ here for two whole months, she said. What if my special talent is scuba divin’, and I’ll never get do it ‘cause it costs too much?”

Eugh.

Okay, so… young kid, bullied for being a blank flank and for being poor, raised by her older sister… 

I kinda didn’t wanna touch this with a ten-foot pole, to be honest.

But that feeling stirred up in me again. The same feeling I’d had when I broke the toilet, or when bulbs needed changing, or when knock-off bags needed warning tags. It was this deep, unshakable need to.. To make it better, I guess. Like I knew things needed fixing and I just wanted to reach in and just fix it already!

“Mm-hm,” I said.

Babs sighed. “I know we’re poor. But I don’t want money to stop me from being what I’m supposed to be.”

Yikes, kiddo.

She looked up at me. “Don’t tell my sis I told you that, okay? She doesn’t like other ponies to know we’re not doin’ so good.”

Uh…

Fuck.

“Y’know, I don’t have a lot of money right now, either,” I said. “I’m kinda living in a van with my friends.”

Babs looked at me funny. I guess I thought she would laugh--what with living in a van being the butt of oh-so-many jokes--so the look of moderate concern and confusion really threw me off.

“But we still do cool stuff,” I continued, somewhat defensively. “And, y’know, I haven’t gotten my cutie mark yet, but they’re helping me find my special talent. We call ourselves the… Cutie Mark Crusaders.”

More like the Cutie Mark Crybabies!

My heart sort of skipped a beat.

It sounded just like Babs. 

Exactly like her.

But she hadn’t opened her mouth. She was just staring up expectantly, waiting for me to finish my story. I’d been watching the whole time.

“Um.” I cleared my throat. The auditory hallucinations really had a way of throwing me off my game, I had to say. “I dunno. I’m still having a good time without my mark, I guess.”

I tried not to look at Babs with suspicion. 

“You are?” Babs pressed. She seemed just as suspicious of me as I was of her.

I looked her in the eye and tried to muster Cadance’s soothing, familiar tone. “Yeah. It’s almost like I’m… lucky, I guess.” Was I? What the hell was I saying? “I get to try all these different things. Plus I’m spending a lot of time with my friends. I think the finding part is just as good as the getting part.”

Babs looked down at her hooves.

“If your finding part lasts a little longer,” I continued, “because of money, or… or anything else, that’s okay.”

Babs was very quiet.

“What if I never get it?” she asked softly.

“Then, I guess…” I thought about that a moment. “Maybe your purpose was to look for it.”

She was silent.

“Or!” I blurted. “Maybe you already have it, and it’s invisible. Have you tried turning invisible lately?”

She looked up at me. I think she was aiming for a blase, teenage scowl, but… foals that age, it’s just all over their faces. “I’m an earth pony,” she pointed out, trying not to smile.

I snickered. “Yeah, well. Still. Maybe you’ll invent the invisibility cloak.”

She cracked a smile, and tried desperately to hide it by looking down again. “No, I won’t.”

“Invisible airship?”

A chuckle snuck out.

“Maybe you’ll be a doctor,” I said, totally on a roll now, “and your cutie mark is a life-size germ. Have you looked really closely?”

At last, Babs let loose with a laugh. “That’s the stupidest cutie mark I ever heard of!”

I laughed, too.

And I looked at Babs, and I saw myself. Trying desperately not to care, and yet caring. Chopping off her mane to look like a little rebel. Covering her blank flank with her ratty tail. A kid trying to be a grown-up.

I wish I’d had somepony like me when I was that age. Maybe I wouldn’t be quite so miserable.

Not that I thought I could fix Babs in two hours. I’m not stupid.

Just a nice thought.

“You should talk to Sunny about this stuff,” I said. “She’s your big sister. She’d hate to know you’re going through all this alone.”

Babs put her face in her hooves. “But she does so much stuff already! I don’t wanna bug ’er.”

“This is the one thing I think she’d like to be bugged about,” I said with a chuckle. “Believe me. When I was your age, I leaned on my brother pretty hard. He was always there for me, even when things were tough for him. That’s what brothers and sisters are for.”

Babs looked up at me. “Y’think?” she asked, sadly, as if the answer would disappoint her.

I hesitated, then shrugged. “You won’t know ‘til you try, right?”

Babs didn’t answer, just stared at her hooves. I think she may have nodded, although it was so slight I may have imagined it. Or perhaps she was only nodding to herself.

But the feeling was settling. It felt… fixed. Or at least on its way.

I turned on the radio.

It was in the middle of one of those audio dramas, and Babs and I listened to an episode of a science-fiction epic that neither of us understood. All the characters were unfamiliar, and yet familiar, too. We chattered a bit back and forth about the plot and the characters, trying lazily to untangle it, but eventually gave up.

When the story ended, I helped Babs make some hot cocoa. We listened to some of her music (which she was very excited to tell me about). We had a nice two hours.

We didn’t talk any more about cutie marks.

Just as the sky was getting dark, we heard the key in the lock, and Sunflower fell into the room. I guess she’d stopped for groceries on the way back from her interview, because a paper bag tumbled onto the floor, oranges rolling off in separate directions.

She looked a little worse for wear, if I’m honest. Her beautifully done mane was looking flatter and looser, hardly curls at all. Her flower had been discarded. Her eyes had bags.

“Sunny!” Babs jumped up and ran to her sister.

I turned off the radio.

“Hey, Sunny, how’d the interview go?” Babs asked, bouncing up and down by her sister’s side.

Sunflower forced a weak smile. “Oh, y’know. We’ll have to wait and see, won’t we?”

“You want some cocoa?” Babs asked. “Me and Twi made some earlier.”

“That’s alright,” she said, waving a hoof dismissively. 

Sunflower hoisted the paper bag off the floor and walked it to the kitchen counter. Babs went running after one of the escaped oranges, and brought it over to her sister. Sunflower smiled in a pained and tired way, and took the fruit from Babs.

They shared a look. Sunflower reached over and gave her little sister a sudden, but gentle, hug around the shoulders. “Were you good for the sitter?”

Babs chuckled. “I was, I was. Honest.”

Sunflower cast a look my way.

I smiled subtly and gave her a small nod.

“Alright, well, I’d better pay the mare and send her on home,” Sunflower said, releasing her sister from the hug. “Why don’t you say goodbye?”

Babs hesitated, but quickly scuttled over to me on the couch and held out a hoof. “Bye, Twilight. It was cool hanging out with you today. You should come over again some time!”

I bumped Babs’ hoof with my own. “If you ever need a sitter again, I’ll come by. Deal?”

“Deal!”

Sunflower sighed. “Let me just grab my bag and--”

“Oh, no worries!” I blurted.

Sunflower paused and looked at me. It was the kind of look that was equal parts grateful and embarrassed, and yet trying not to let onto either of those emotions.

“What’s two hours?” I said with a shrug. “Babs hung out with me the whole time. It was really fun.”

Babs beamed.

Sunflower’s eyes narrowed. She stared at me for a while, perhaps hoping I’d break, then shook her head. “Don’t be stupid, I’m payin’ you.”

“Uh… how about this?” I said, shooting to my hooves. “I’m gonna need another place to work. Do you know about any odd jobs in Manehattan?”

“You want me to pay you in another job?” Sunflower asked, deadpan.

I smiled warily. “Yes?”

The mare ran a few calculations in her head. I could really see the family resemblance in the way her brows twitched, and her eyes scanned the air. A thought dawned on her, and she seemed to do an internal double-take… then she looked back at me.

This look was legendary. It somehow held a heretofore unheard of amount of contempt, and yet her brows seemed to hold not the slightest tension.

“Alright, look: my cousin needs some help with her restaurant,” she said with a deep vitriol. “She lost some employees in the spring and she needs somepony to wait tables for a while. She won’t take me, ‘cause she don’t like my attitude. Her loss.”

I chuckled awkwardly.

“I can give you the address,” she said, plunging her hoof into her bag and rooting around for pen and paper. “Tell her I sent you, she’ll give you an interview.”

“Wow,” I said, a bit in shock that my bargaining method had worked. “Thank you, SUnflower, I--”

“No, no. DOn’t thank me.” Sunflower shook her head. “I get what it’s like to be hard up and need somethin’ quick. My cousin can be kind of a--”

She paused and looked at Babs.

“Okay, she’s a massive S-O-B,” she snapped. I very much doubt the meaning was lost on Babs. “Still, it’s work and she pays good. Should get you to your next gig.”

She set a pen between her teeth and wrote down an address in impressively neat letters. When she finished writing, she spat the pen back into her bag and passed me the paper with a brazen force.

I took it gingerly from her.

“And I’m payin’ you,” she said. Her hoof went back into the bag, and she peered into it as if it were a foreign object. “No less than half.”

“H-half works,” I stuttered.

She poured a few bits into my outstretched hoof. “Say hi to my cuz for me, huh?”

“Uh… sure,” I agreed.

“Great!” Sunflower flashed me a fake smile. “Now, get outta here.”