CRISIS: Equestria - Divergence, Book 2

by GanonFLCL

Chapter Nine: Tidings

Havoc double-checked her supply bag to make sure that she had everything she needed for the trip back to New Pandemonium: packed meals for tonight, tomorrow morning, and tomorrow afternoon; a canteen of water; a datapad with documents that she needed to give to Dawn and Curaçao; a change of clothes; a sleeping bag. Yes, everything was all set.

"Everything good to go?" asked Cotton from behind her.

"Yup," Havoc replied. "Should be a pretty quick trip anyway, nothing to worry about. Even packed an extra meal in case I get sidetracked taking out some bugs again."

"Good." Cotton walked past her and into her kitchen—Havoc was getting ready in Cotton's living room—brushing her tail along Havoc's muzzle as she did so. "Don't take too long coming back though. Two weeks is long enough, so you'd better not make me wait longer than that."

Havoc grinned as she watched Cotton's backside sashay away; the other mare always looked good in everything she wore, but that short skirt was something else with the way it highlighted the shape of her rear. She zipped up her bag and followed Cotton into the kitchen, helping herself to a soda—grape—from the fridge and cracking it open before taking a seat.

"I think you can last that long. It's me I'm worried about," Havoc noted.

"Exactly," Cotton replied. She tilted her head. "So, not joining me for breakfast, huh?"

"Yeah, sorry. I would, but the king and queen wanted to meet me to discuss some matters before I head out." Havoc paused a moment, then perked up. "You could, uh... you could come along with me if you want? I'm sure they won't mind."

Cotton smiled and patted Havoc's hoof. "I appreciate the offer, but I know this meeting is supposed to be just for you and the king and queen. I don't want to step on any hooves."

"Bullshit, you won't be bothering anypony."

"I'm sure I won't be, but trust me, I don't want to change the dynamic going on there. I'm still amazed that they were so comfortable with me being at their wedding since they don't even know me—"

Havoc frowned. "Do you just not want to go? Is that it? 'Cause if that's it, you can just say so. I'll understand."

Cotton paused, sighed, and shook her head. "That's not it, not exactly. I just think it's not... appropriate, I guess? I mean, I appreciate you inviting me and everything, but it would feel a little awkward to me if they started asking questions about us, y'know?"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"I mean that we still haven't exactly talked about us, so it doesn't feel right trying to explain it to somepony else, especially the king and queen."

Havoc's mouth hung open slightly as she tried to process the words, her eyes blinking a few times to let the gears run their course. Though it took her a moment, she realized the implication that was being said. "Oh. No, okay... I get it. So like, if we talked about it and figured it out, you'd be cool with it?"

Cotton let out and breath and walked over to the fridge to get herself a beer. "I don't think you really get it."

"Then help me understand."

Cotton turned and looked right at Havoc; she looked... upset wasn't quite right, but she didn't look angry. "Havoc, what are we right now, exactly? Because some days it feels like we're a couple, and other days it feels like this is just a casual friends-with-benefits thing. Here you are inviting me to lunch with the king and queen like we were dating, but when you introduce me you call me your 'friend'."

"I do?"

"Yes, you do. Just your 'friend'. Not 'fillyfriend'. You act like I am when we're together, but—"Cotton let out another breath. "This isn't the first time I've had this conversation with somepony. I get it if you're embarrassed—"

"No!" Havoc blurted quickly. "That's... that's not it."

"Then what is it?"

Havoc hung her head. "Look, I'm sorry. I never realized I was doing it. You're the first fillyfriend I've ever had, y'know, and I just... I guess it never occurred to me to start calling you that when talking to other ponies." She ran her hoof through her mane. "I'm still getting used to all this kind of stuff. Dating and sex and couples and stuff like that." She then looked right at Cotton. "I do think of you as my fillyfriend, though. I promise I'll start introducing you like that from now on, okay?"

Cotton tilted her head, a slight grin forming on her lips. "Really?"

"Really. I don't want to hurt you, and I'm sorry if I have been. I really am trying to be better about these kinds of things, and—"

Cotton swept forward and kissed Havoc's forehead. "You don't have to go on, honey. I get it. Sorry if I seemed angry, it's just... y'know, ponies like me deal with this a lot. I've dated more than one stallion that was perfectly fine with the sex and everything but didn't want to treat me like their fillyfriend in public." She sighed. "I just wanted to know if you were the same. I'm glad you're not."

"So... are you cool with coming to breakfast with me and the royals?" Havoc asked with a little grin.

"I'm cool with it, but I think I'll let you go on your own this time. I know they'd be fine with it, but I wasn't invited and this sounds like it's all business. Maybe next time we can make it a double date?"

Havoc's grin widened a little. "Sure. Yeah, it's a date."

Cotton then perked up. "Oh! I almost forgot, I had something for you. Stay right there."

Havoc raised an eyebrow and watched Cotton rush off to the bedroom. "Something for me?"

Cotton returned after only a minute with a box balanced on her back, which she hoisted onto the table in front of Havoc. "Yup! Go on, open it."

Havoc opened the box up, revealing a black jacket inside that reflected the light of the kitchen. There was an embroidery on the back that looked like her cutie mark: a meteorite burning up in the atmosphere. She lifted the jacket out, marveling at the feel of the material, which was slick and smooth, sort of like the inside of her military-issue body armor. Her name was embroidered on the front, over one of the pockets.

"Nice jacket," Havoc whistled. "You made this yourself?"

Cotton nodded proudly. "Uh-huh! Hoof-stitched and everything. Go on, try it on. I'm sure got your measurements just right, but I didn't have you to model it for me. A ponyquin gets the job done, sure, but a live model is better."

Havoc stood up and did just that, sliding the jacket on over her uniform; it fit perfectly. "What kind of material is this?" she asked, running her hoof along one of the sleeves.

"It a specialized weave made from some of the bulletproof material the militia uses for their body armor," Cotton said as she checked the fit around Havoc's midsection. "It wasn't cheap to get and I had to sign a bunch of forms to get it, but I got it."

Havoc blinked. "You made me a bulletproof jacket?"

"Of course! Knifeproof too. Fashion is about form and function, honey, and now you'll look good and be safe. It even protects against wind sheer, perfect for a pegasus who's always on the move."

"Y'know my bodyarmor already does all that and more, right?"

"Well, duh. I know that, dummy, but you're not going to be wearing your body armor all the time, right? If we go out on a date, for instance." Cotton made sure the jacket's wing-slits weren't squeezing down on Havoc's wings; they weren't, because again, the fit was perfect. "Do you like it?"

Havoc glanced down at the jacket, then grinned. "I love it. It looks badass as hell. Thanks, babe."

Cotton pressed her cheek against Havoc's. "Anytime, honey." She then kissed Havoc's cheek. "You'd better get going, though. His and Her Majesty await, hmm?"

"Yeah, you're right," Havoc agreed, glancing at the clock. She turned and kissed Cotton's cheek back. "Thanks again. See you in two weeks?"

Cotton giggled. "Don't keep me waiting."

Havoc had come to truly appreciate Baroque cuisine more than she ever thought she would. She knew that it wasn't as if she had some forgotten heritage that gave her that connection, unless Fluttershy had some Baroque blood in her. So technically, yeah, she could have some sort of ancestry, but for the most part that seemed highly unlikely. Still, she often wondered what it was about this particular culture's food that just clicked with her.

Best of all, Hope's Point had some of the most top-notch offerings available, and this was considering that Havoc had been accustomed to having a world-class personal chef at her beck and call for her entire life. It wasn't necessarily that the restaurant she was at for breakfast this morning was better than what Crème Brûlée had to offer back home, but there was a certain level of charm to it that she enjoyed. Maybe it was the atmosphere?

Or maybe it was the company? Havoc rarely had the opportunity to dine with her sisters even when she was at home, since everypony had different schedules and tastes these days that they just couldn't get together very often. It was hard to put her hoof on, though, because Queen Blackburn and King Lockwood proved themselves to be rather… personable. Well, Lockwood had always been that way, no surprise there, but Her Majesty was surprisingly friendly and pleasant to be around once you got to know her.

For now, though, she and Lockwood were alone at their booth at the restaurant, with only Crossfire for company otherwise, but he rarely chimed in in conversations unless necessary or unless it was related to the food. Havoc had ordered a frittata made with spicy peppers at Crossfire's suggestion; Lockwood had ordered the crespelles with raspberries, which he said was a favorite. It was all-in-all a pleasant, intimate breakfast meeting, and Havoc loved every second of it.

It made her feel… respected. Appreciated.

"So you're leaving after breakfast, hmm?" Lockwood asked, absently poking at his nearly-empty plate.

"Yup. Gotta jet back north before noon so I can make it home by tomorrow night," Havoc replied as she took a bite of her meal. "And that's already a stretch. I should've probably just grabbed a quick bite and bounced."

"Wow, so soon? What's the hurry?"

"Curaçao wants me to deliver separate reports to her and Dawn, since she doesn't trust our littlest sister to give her all the details. Dawn tends to skim my reports because she feels my continued work out here is a waste of time. She doesn't think I need to do it anymore now that we've got our 'in'."

Lockwood nodded in understanding. "Well, I'm glad that Curaçao takes your work seriously. We've had a big boom in incoming refugees lately thanks to you, y'know? If anything is gonna make these peace talks work, it's the effort of ponies like you rather than anything a bureaucratic meeting could accomplish."

Lockwood was looking much better than when he and Havoc had first met. He'd put on a healthy amount of weight and a teensy bit of muscle so that he didn't look like he'd break if somepony bent him too hard. He was grooming himself to a much higher standard, not that his standard wasn't already good, but now it was regal.

This included his clothing, as he now dressed mostly in whites and didn't wear the same clothes every day. Today, for instance, he was wearing a gray vest over a white dress shirt. And he never wore that crummy old fedora anymore, either.

He looked every bit like the handsome young king he was supposed to be. Havoc was still completely over him, but she had to admit, he was looking damn good these days. Cotton thought so too, and said that word on the street was that the king had a lot of admirers. Because of course he did, he always did. Something about his eyes, actually.

"I do what I can," Havoc said with a nod. "It's getting a little strange out there lately though, y'know? Like, I barely see any Gargantuans anymore."

"Apart from the major breeding grounds, we haven't seen a lot of them lately, either," Lockwood said, steepling his hooves. "The theory is that they've started moving underground for some reason, and rarely pop up on the surface. Nopony knows enough about them to give us a decent explanation."

"Maybe they're spooked because of the appearance of a higher class of predator out there?" Havoc suggested, waggling her eyebrows. "Me. I mean me."

He grinned and gestured at her with his fork. "Well, if they are scared of you, then I'd say you're doing a bang-up job out there, Commander. Keep up the good work." He then tilted his head. "Y'know, I just realized that that's a new jacket. Did Cotton make that for you?"

Havoc glanced down at her jacket, then back to Lockwood with a grin. "Yup! Hoof-stitched it herself. Looks badass, huh?"

"I'm not the best judge on what is or isn't 'badass', but it definitely looks nice."

"Thanks. I'll tell her you said that. A compliment from the king is sure to give her a kick."

Havoc noticed a slight commotion coming from the front of the restaurant, which turned out to be due to the arrival of Her Majesty Queen Blackburn herself, along with Gadget. The Queen of Hope's Point hadn't changed herself much at all over the past year; she still mostly wore assorted white jackets and that green and gold scarf of hers, and always kept herself in the best of shape.

But Havoc didn't really care about Her Majesty's arrival for its own sake. What mattered to her was the third guest that had come along for the ride. Literally, actually, since the little three-week-old filly rested comfortably in a sling along Blackburn's side. Havoc actually rose from her seat just to get a better look at the adorable foal, with her ash-gray coat and bright blue mane, but most importantly those wide, beautiful golden eyes, just like her father's.

"Sorry we're late," Blackburn said as she and Gadget placed the little filly into a high chair beside the table. "Bluebolt's been fussy all morning. Postponed meeting with Chief Storm to handle it." She nodded at Havoc and smiled. "Havoc. Heard you're leaving shortly; need any supplies?"

"Already taken care of, Queen Bee, " Havoc said, though her focus was more on the not-at-all-fussy foal in the high chair.

She smiled at the filly and waved; the filly's attention flittered around the room for a long moment before finally landing on Havoc, upon which her eyes widened and she gesticulated with her hooves slightly before slapping the high chair table a few times and gurgling. Havoc had never seen anything more adorable in all her life, fake memories included.

Lockwood reached his wing over and gently tickled his daughter's dangling rear hoof, earning a peel of laughter. "She hasn't been too much of a hoof-full, has she honey?" he asked his wife.

"No, just slight temperament regarding mealtime," Blackburn said, shaking her head as she reached over to give her daughter a small stuffed airship; Gadget, meanwhile, gave the tyke her bottle. "Books enlightening on subject of raising foal; firsthoof experience, different ordeal. Unpredictable. Messy." She sighed wistfully. "Wonderful."

"You could always ask Shortcake for more help than you have been," Lockwood suggested, giving his wife a look. "She has loads of experience raising kids, and she'd love to spend more time with her granddaughter. She won't mind if you want a break. If you wait long enough, she might start begging you to give her a shot."

"Yes, but don't wish to overburden her, would also prefer more hooves-on approach with firstborn," Blackburn replied.

Lockwood smirked. "Couldn't agree more, really. Still, she's always willing to help. Bluebolt is her first granddaughter, after all."

Since Bluebolt looked to be calm for now with her toy in one hoof, her bottle helpfully in her mouth thanks to Gadget's magic, Blackburn turned her attention to Havoc. "Apologies in advance: must bring business matters to otherwise personal meeting."

"Oh, hey, no problem at all," Havoc said with a nod. "Business first, right?"

"Mmhmm." Blackburn leaned back in her seat and let out a breath. "Must commend you. Efforts in Wastelands helping stir public opinion towards peace. Less pressure on me when time comes to sign treaty, whenever that is."

"Always happy to help, you know that."

"Indeed. Still commendable. Valuable asset; valued companion." Blackburn took a breath and nodded. "News from your sister: NPAF publicly announced cessation of hostilities against Hope's Point this morning. Ceasefire official; peace talks now top issue in public consensus."

Havoc leaned back and nodded in return. "I didn't know when they were gonna make it public yet, but yeah, it's been the talk of the officer corps for weeks now. I know that Admiral Hotstreak anticipated pushback, but it's been… a pretty big deal. There are a lot of upset ponies, let me tell ya."

"Please do," Blackburn said, leaning forward and hardening her gaze. "Strife within NPAF could affect peace talks. Pays to have information."

"I wish I could tell you more, really I do. I might be an officer, but it's pretty common knowledge in the corps that I'm loyal to the Admiral and his decisions. The only officer I'm on good enough terms with to chat is his son, Commander Jetstream, and he's in the same boat, obviously."

"Unfortunate…"

Havoc shook her head. "I couldn't tell you the numbers or which individuals might make trouble. But my other sister, Curaçao, she's doing her best to monitor the situation. Sorry, but that's all I've got."

Blackburn sighed, dejected. "Could you anticipate potential attempts to prevent peace proposal's success? Somepony on Committee, perhaps?"

"The only ponies I know that are opposed to it that much are Taskmaster Concrete and Treasurer Vendetta." Havoc shrugged, knowing there was little more she could do about it. "But I don't have any involvement with them. Dawn's dealing with that stuff as best she can, but I don't think either is in the position to be an actual threat."

Lockwood grunted, his expression sour. "I'd still keep an eye on Vendetta, regardless. I know the kind of pony he is, and he won't let this grudge against Virtuoso go so easily."

"Indeed." Blackburn shook her head. "Regrettable circumstances; will need to be mindful moving forward. Peace talks paramount to betterment of the north; will not see it fail."

"I assume you guys are doing the same dismantlement deal that we are, right?" Havoc asked, taking a sip of her drink. "I haven't been included in the actual negotiations so I've got no idea what the agreements are."

"Indeed, have begun conversion of portions of fleet for other purposes," Blackburn said with a firm nod.

Lockwood smiled proudly. "Most of them got repurposed for cargo and passenger transport, some others were repurposed for resource gathering. We figure if we're entering into trade agreements with New Pandemonium in the future, we should stake our claim early."

"Smart move," Havoc said with a grin. "Shrewd. I like it."

Blackburn smirked. "Thank you. Few other ships given more unique purpose: deep sea exploration. First volunteers, crew of the Comet Chaser, under Captain Ember Heart. Potential resources at certain depths, potential for scientific research. Never had opportunity before."

Havoc blinked. "Huh, neat. Can't say I know much about what's down there."

"Nopony does," Lockwood said with awe and wonder in his eyes. "That's the point of exploring it, right? Who knows what kind of things that we might find that far underwater? Plants? Minerals? Shipwrecks? Could be anything!"

Blackburn tilted her head and steepled her hooves, looking intently at Havoc again. "Other question; not business-related. Weather patterns in Wastelands have changed over past year. Minimal reliable first-hoof accounts. Enlighten me."

Havoc hummed and stroked her chin. "Yeah, the weather's been acting up lately. Never seen anything like it before. I'm used to a little bit of wind every now and then out there, but it's been getting a bit gusty."

"'Gusty', apt assessment. Nopony's seen anything like it; asked ponies who were part of Hope's Point's initial construction." Blackburn leaned back, deep in thought. "New weather patterns, unpredictable, concerning. Will need to observe further."

"I'll keep you posted if that helps."

"Would appreciate it."

Havoc then glanced at her watch and sighed before rising from the table. "Welp, it's time I blow this popsicle stand. I gotta get moving so I don't keep ponies waiting for me back home."

Blackburn nodded. "Appreciate your time, Havoc. Have a safe trip."

"Say 'hi' to the others from me," Lockwood said with a wide smile. He gave Blackburn a brief look; she responded with a smile and a nod. He then reached into the vest pocket and passed Havoc a photograph. "And show this to 'em, too. You're the only one that's seen our little bundle of joy so far, and we trust you to keep that in the right ponies' hooves."

"Thanks, guys," Havoc said. She took the photo and looked it over, grinned widely as she did. The royal couple were posing with their sleeping newborn daughter, who was the main focus of the picture and looked like the cutest little thing that Havoc could imagine. "I can't wait to show this off. Congrats again to you guys, if I haven't said it enough yet."

As Havoc headed out of the booth, she stopped to wave her hoof at little Bluebolt, who gurgled again and smiled wide, making motions with her hooves like she was trying to wave back. The filly was just the sweetest thing; Havoc couldn't think of any reason not to coo and fawn over her.

Blackburn apparently took notice and gave Havoc a little grin and a nudge. "Would you like to hold her, Havoc?"

Havoc stared wide-eyed at Blackburn, shocked. "What? Really? You'd let me?"

"No reason not to; trust you implicitly." Blackburn nodded at Gadget, who nodded back and unfastened Bluebolt from the highchair. "Don't need to tell you to be careful."

"Of course, yeah." Havoc gently, cautiously, accepted Bluebolt as Gadget levitated her over.

"Gotta warn you, she gets fussy," Gadget said with a tiny grin.

As the little filly settled into Havoc's grip—Bluebolt was heavier than she expected—she couldn't help but let herself give a big, dumb smile. "Am I doing it right?" she asked nervously, not wanting to look at Blackburn for fear of taking her eyes off the filly.

"Doing just fine," Blackburn gently replied. "A natural.'

Havoc had no idea where she got the fondness for little foals—she suspected it was something she'd inherited from Fluttershy—but she was glad she had it. Bluebolt seemed to sense just how safe Havoc was and wanted her to be, because she didn't fuss one little bit as the adult pegasus rocked her gently back and forth. They just looked into each other's eyes, and Havoc felt as though the filly was looking right into her soul, giggling softly as she did.

She made a pact to herself right then and there: she would do absolutely anything in the world to ensure that this peace proposal went through. The north needed to be a better place not for herself, or for ponies like Blackburn or Dawn, not even for ponies like Cotton Rose. It needed to be a better place for young colts and fillies like the Shadow Candidates back home, and like Bluebolt here.

And Havoc knew that when she made a pact like that, she'd keep it. Nothing was going to stop her.

In Pandora Tower's Shadow Candidate training facility, Velvet watched from a perch near the instructional area as Pedigree fielded questions from the students about the latest video they'd just watched. The topic was history, specifically on the nature of New Pandemonium's second "era" of growth.

Velvet knew next to nothing on the subject and hadn't really absorbed much of it over the past week that the students were learning—she wasn't great at most of the subjects, really, having never had a formal education—but that wasn't important. What was important was that she was invested in the students' learning capabilities and how well they absorbed the information, as well as how well Pedigree was handling the material and the kids.

One little colt, Vermillion Blaze—earth pony, red coat, orange mane—raised his hoof. "Overseer, I didn't understand the part of the video where they explained why the old city was buried."

"Yeah," agreed one of the fillies, Honey Heart—earth pony, gold coat, blonde mane. "Why wouldn't they just use all the old buildings?"

Pedigree paced in front of the currently deactivated video screen. "A good question, and one that many historical scholars throughout our history haven't been able to agree upon. The prevailing theory at the moment is that the structures left behind by the Old Pandemonium builders were too dilapidated for safe use."

"What does 'dee-lapi-dated' mean?" asked Vermillion.

"Dilapidated: ruined, abandoned, unfit for use," Pedigree explained.

The answer seemed to satisfy those questions. Velvet didn't really get it herself, though, but she had a unique perspective on it. She'd gotten the idea from the video that the city had been essentially built on top of the Old Pandemonium hundreds of years ago. Knowing that it had been her father that had ordered it that way, she wondered why just as much as those kids did, and figured maybe she could ask Dawn to ask him.

Another colt, Razorwing—pegasus, silver coat, red mane with white streaks—raised a hoof. "The video never said what happened to the ponies of the old city though, Overseer. Where did they go?"

"Nopony really knows," Pedigree said with a nod. "Most of them may have lost their lives in the Great Northern War, and survivors likely fled elsewhere out of fear of retaliation. Some evidence suggests that they fled into the Redblade Mountains, back before they were perpetually active."

"But wouldn't they be in danger there?" asked a colt, Cloudy Day—pegasus, gray-blue coat, gray mane. "Those are volcanoes! Volcanoes are dangerous!"

Pedigree grinned. "They are, yes. I see you've been paying attention in geology, Mister Day. For once."

The class chuckled and giggled, and Velvet quietly joined in. It was only natural that some of the kids developed a taste or distaste for certain subjects. But Cloudy Day had been getting better about paying attention, enough that he didn't mind the little quip and joined in with the laughter.

"The majority of those ponies seemingly returned to New Pandemonium City and integrated into the new society. Any that were left once the entire volcanic range went active likely fled towards the coastline, or simply died out."

"Ooh ohh!" chirped a bigger filly in the back, Double Trouble—pegasus, orange coat, white mane. "What if they learned to live in the volcanoes? Like, uh… adopted?"

"Adapted," Pedigree corrected. "And that is unlikely. Creatures don't adapt to an environment quickly enough to survive a single generation like that without sheer luck and numbers, and there isn't any evidence to suggest they had either." He then tapped his chin in thought. "Though, to be fair, nopony has ever really explored the Redblade Mountains since they were activated."

"So you think there might be ponies that live in the volcanoes?" asked Cloudy Day with wide eyes.

Pedigree shaked his head. "Scientifically-speaking, it's impossible. But we do live in a world where magic is commonplace, and the Beacon within this very tower generates enough magical energy that there could be a slim possibility of such adaptive ponies surviving in the volcanoes. But nopony's ever seen them if there are any."

Cloudy and Trouble looked at one another in awe. "Cooool! Secret underground lava ponies!" gushed Trouble with a giggle.

"Any other questions?" Pedigree asked. There were none. "Very well. Your homework assignment for the night is to write me a full paragraph detailing one aspect of the second age that you found particularly interesting." He glanced in the direction of one of the other colts. "That's five complete sentences, Mister Wildcard. Understood?"

Wildcard—pegasus, green coat, blue mane—grunted and slumped in his seat. "Yes sir."

Pedigree nodded and turned back to the rest of the class. "The assignment is due next week at the beginning of class time. Class is dismissed."

The entire class gleefully hopped out of their seats and rushed off towards the elevator so they could return to their rooms. Velvet waved at them as they passed by her, and they all waved and greeted her in turn with big smiles. Once the last of them had cleared out, Velvet headed into the "classroom" to greet Pedigree, who busied himself setting up the video to play again from the beginning for the next class.

She got his attention by knocking on one of the desks. "Hey."

He turned and gave her a polite smile. "Miss Velvet. You're here early."

"Ate a light breakfast," she replied as she moved further into the room and took a seat at one of the frontmost desks. "Everypony seems to be moving along pretty well in their schoolwork. I'm really glad we're making so much progress."

"As am I, though I will still insist that they would have more success with more specialized instructors for their subject materials." He shook his head. "I can certainly assist the students more readily with mathematics and the various scientific fields much more effectively than history and social studies. They weren't exactly my strong suits growing up."

"Dawn approved my request last night," Velvet said with a wide smile. "Starting next week, you and I can start looking into hiring a few ponies to help out. First priority goes to members already on the tower staff, of course."

He raised an eyebrow, though he was grinning. "That's wonderful news. I assume we're still expected to follow proper Pandora Protocols for outsiders?"

"Yeah, full package deal. Dawn's ready to perform memory wipes as necessary." She bounced up out of the desk, excited as she'd felt in weeks. "This is gonna be great! They're gonna do a lot better having actual experts teaching subjects. We'll be able to focus more on their training!"

"Agreed. We've fallen behind on schedule with ability development for some of the more advanced students." Pedigree pulled out his datapad and scrolled through it briefly. "Specifically I wanted to address some of the youngsters with potentially dangerous powers. I don't want to sound as though we're pushing them too hard, but I believe we have room for improvement."

Velvet nodded in agreement. "I agree one hundred percent." She then sat directly on the desk instead of in its proper seat. "So, besides that, I wanted to talk to you about the social development program. I think it's going well, but I've noticed something a bit… well, it's not weird, but it's not typical."

He tilted his head. "Go on."

"Have you noticed that the kids are acting a bit mature for their age? I mean, for the most part they still have that youthful wonder, at least as far as interests and general behavior—"

"You mean the way in which they speak?" Pedigree hummed and nodded. "Yes, I've noticed it. I attribute it to the circumstances of their social interactions and education. If I may be blunt: I'm not exactly skilled at interacting with young colts and fillies of their age at a level that they can understand."

"You mean they talk the way they do because of all the time spent around you?"

"Precisely. I am their only educational instructor, so I am their primary source of input, alongside our purely academic educational videos." Pedigree shook his head. "In addition, they don't have the sort of variety in outside experiences that others their age do. The best they get is from television in their free time."

"Hmm… yeah, I see what you mean," Velvet said, stroking her chin. "Hopefully the mentorship program starts working out soon. I'd rather have some of these kids talking like my sisters than everypony just being the same."

"It's working well so far, from my observations. Several of the students have latched onto you or your sisters and adopted traits." He nudged Velvet and chuckled. "Bravo to Miss Havoc for keeping her language in check."

"Yeah, kudos to her."

The sound of the elevator opening behind them indicated that the next group of colts and fillies was coming in. Velvet beamed, seeing young Caramel Rye among them, and he in turn beamed when he saw her. He practically pushed his way to the front of the line so that he could run up and leap into a hug.

"Miss Velvet! Hi!" he said with a wide smile as she returned the hug. "How are you?"

"I'm doing great, kiddo!" Velvet replied. "Ready for class?"

Caramel wrinkled his nose. "Ech, history class is boring. I wanna do another cooking class with you! Everypony does!"

"Oh really?" Velvet turned to the other students with a grin. "Does everypony really want to do another cooking lesson?"

The entire line of a dozen students spoke at once in affirmation, creating a literal chorus of "Yeah!" that echoed throughout the room.

"Well okay then, I'll put another cooking class on our extracurriculars, okay? Maybe this time I'll teach you something more complicated than PB&J sandwiches. Maybe… salad. Yeah, that'll work. Simple, healthy, perfect."

She knew how to cook far more complicated things, but these kids were too young to be learning how to operate a stove or an oven by themselves. She stuck to things where the most dangerous utensil required was a butter knife; she'd make it work for the salad.

"Aww, can we cook now instead of learning history?" piped up one of the other colts, Silver Spots.

Velvet smiled wide. "Wellll…" She paused, then leveled the class with a look. "No. Your schooling is important, kids. If you want to take a cooking class with me, you need to do well in school. I'll ask the Overseer, and if he tells me you haven't been doing your homework, then you won't learn how to make salads."

"Awww…" groaned the class.

Velvet set Caramel down and ushered the class into the "classroom". "Go on, kids, take your seats and get ready to learn. And no more whining, okay? School's super important, and the Overseer and I want everypony to grow up smart."

"Yes, Miss Velvet," grumbled the class.

Velvet noticed one of the students wasn't grumbling, though: Sunspire. In fact, he'd already taken his seat at the front of the class while everypony else was arguing about cooking classes. She frowned slightly at that. Not because she felt ignored or because she disapproved of his behavior, but because of why he was acting this way.

After the Overseer gave his brief introductory spiel to the class about the video they were about to watch, Velvet signaled for him to step aside to speak with her. "Yes, Miss Velvet?" he asked quietly after they'd stepped away.

"I'm a bit concerned about Sunspire," she bluntly stated.

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Why? He's at the top of all of his classes and has been excelling in his training exercises."

"Yeah, and that's all wonderful stuff," she replied. "But he's not being as social as the others. I've been watching him for weeks now, and I've never seen him strike up a conversation or join any of the other kids for playtime."

"We have a number of students who share those qualities to some degree, Miss Velvet, if you don't mind my saying? Green Guard hardly says two words to myself or to any of the other students—"

"That's because he's shy," Velvet said dismissively. "He's bonded just fine with Gray, though, and she's told me how talkative he gets when they're alone. He'll get there with the others eventually, but this isn't the same thing."

"How about Lemon Lime? She tends to keep to herself most of the time—"

"She's still getting used to her telepathy, that's all. You try having a conversation when you have trouble filtering out the other pony's thoughts." Velvet nodded firmly. She had to be careful with her thoughts around the young filly so that she didn't accidentally stumble onto Velvet's more… adult interests. "Once we help her focus better, I'm sure she'll be a regular chatterbox."

Pedigree hummed. "Very well, then what is your concern regarding Sunspire? I honestly cannot find fault if he wishes to engage fully with his studies and education. I've already offered him advanced private classes to take on his own time to advance further, and I haven't offered that to many of the students at all, and certainly not in so many subjects."

"No no, I get it, he's a total smarty pants, just like Dawn is." Velvet gave Pedigree a terse look. "That's why I've got a problem, actually. I wanted to talk it over with you."

"Regarding Miss Dawn? What about?"

Velvet sighed. "We both knew when we implemented the whole 'mentorship' program that all of my sisters would be spending time with a small selection of the students to help them develop socially, right?"

Pedigree closed his eyes and nodded, letting out a breath as he did so. "Ah. You fear that he may have adopted Miss Dawn's… social skills."

"Or lack thereof. But that wouldn't bother me by itself. It's the why."

"I don't follow."

"My idiot sister did exactly what I knew she was gonna do: she turned her mentorship program into a damned career planner. She got the idea in her head that assigning roles to her kids was a good idea—"

"You must admit that she made informed decisions," Pedigree interjected. "Rubedo's newfound interest in chemistry meshes well with his transmutation capabilities, and Chroma Key—"

Velvet put her hooves to her temples. "Gah! I get it, she picked out the perfect life paths for the kids she was assigned to, but we weren't supposed to be doing that! They're supposed to be making their own choices and figuring out what they want to do in life. We don't even know if these kids can get cutie marks like other colts and fillies can, and she's practically forcing the issue!"

Pedigree rubbed his chin in thought. "The scientist in me commends her for initiating the circumstances that would potentially lead to that discovery more quickly than our laissez-faire attitude towards the whole thing." Seeing the glare Velvet was giving him, he cleared her throat. "But you're right, that isn't the direction we agreed to take. Still, I'm at a loss for why this is a problem specifically for Sunspire."

She gestured towards the colt in question. "That little guy was the first pony my idiot sister named. He got attached to her because of it, just like the other ponies she named. All of the kids have that kind of connection with those of us who named them, like me and Caramel, or Gray and Green Guard."

"So I've noticed."

"Yeah, well, over the few times they met, Sunspire noticed how smart and bookish Dawn is, and he wanted to be just as smart and bookish as she is. You know what he told me before we started up the mentorship?"

"You don't need to tell me, I remember," Pedigree mumbled. "He was hoping to become Miss Dawn's apprentice, to learn under her and be just like her when he was old enough. A typical expression of idolization."

"And then my idiot sister picked Serendipity as her 'apprentice'." Velvet groaned and rubbed her temples. "I get it, I really do. Serendipity is a great filly. She's got charisma for days and a real drive compared to a lot of the other students, and a natural luck that just makes things go her way. If I were looking for leadership qualities in a pony, I'd point her out and say, 'that's your girl'.

"And that's what Dawn wanted: a leader. She wanted somepony that would take charge of these kids as they got older, like she thinks she does with our family." She pointed at Sunspire. "And what did Dawn do with Sunspire? Told him he was gonna be a glorified librarian. He's good with books, I get it! He'd be perfect for it, and I know he'll love it!"

"But that wasn't the choice he wanted to make," Pedigree finished. He shook his head. "Miss Velvet, I understand your concern, but if I may play devil's advocate for a moment, this might end up benefiting Sunspire in the end."

"Oh yeah? How?"

"Well, he's learning a lesson that the other students aren't, really, one that I doubt many of them will ever learn."

"What, never to meet your heroes?" Velvet scoffed.

Pedigree paused. "Well… technically, yes. But no, I meant more along the lines of something many ponies out in the city learn, regarding the idea that you don't always get what you desire in life, but that if you work hard you can still succeed." He glanced at the colt and smiled lightly. "He may not be Dawn's favorite student, but he will certainly be the best librarian you could ask for."

Velvet narrowed her eyes. "And what if she continues to isolate him away from herself and the others?"

"Then I suppose we can only hope that he comes out of it himself," Pedigree sighed. "There's nothing wrong with how he chooses to express himself, Miss Velvet. I would advise that we let him be; don't force him to contort to what you deem socially acceptable."

Velvet took a deep breath, then nodded. "No, you're right. I'd be no better than she is to try and make him fit my ideals." She then poked Pedigree in the chest. "But you better bet your ass that I'm gonna have a talk with my sister if I think he's shutting himself away because she's not treating him right."

"That is your prerogative, Miss Velvet," he agreed. He then glanced towards the classroom, where the video was just finishing up. "I'd better return to my educating duties, though. Trust me, Miss Velvet: things tend to have a way of working themselves out. Who knows, there might just be something that breaks Sunspire right out of that shell, hmm?"

"I hope you're right…"

"Don't you worry, I'll keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn't feel isolated from the others as best as I can. Would that alleviate your worries?"

"It would, yeah. Thanks, Pedigree, you're a peach." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, then turned and headed for the elevator to make for the training facility; Pedigree sputtered in surprise behind her.

Gray sat on her bed, alone in her room like she was nearly every day, and had been nearly every day for more than a year now. She held the phone close to her ear and waited as the signal made an attempt to connect; it had taken tremendous effort to establish a method of communicating between Pandora Tower and Hope's Point's royal palace, and it was neither easy nor convenient at the moment. The NPAF's technology was effective for transmitting data across long distances, certainly, but it was imperfect and untested in this regard.

It took several minutes for her to actually establish a link, and several more of going through assorted go-betweens before she managed to get in contact with her desired party.

"Gray? Can you hear me?" asked Flathoof.

"Yeah, I can hear you," she replied.

Of course, there was a delay in the audio feed, so it took a few seconds for her to actually hear what he said, and vice versa. They'd gotten used to the delay by this point and knew that they needed to pause and wait when they were finished talking so the other party could respond. Worse, the quality was so poor that he sounded as though he were in a windy tunnel that would drown out his voice if he didn't speak loudly and clearly enough.

Was it aggravating? Absolutely. Was it inconvenient? Supremely. Was it necessary?

No.

She knew she could probably put an end to all of this if she just made a decision already. But every time she thought about it, she thought about how much of a change it would be and how much effort it would take. Worst of all she thought about how stupid she'd feel if something happened and things didn't work out between them; uprooting her entire life to be with somepony and risking them changing their mind terrified her for some reason.

"I wasn't expecting you to call today," he said. "Is everything alright?"

She wanted to tell him that she just wanted to hear his voice. What she said was, "Yeah, everything's fine. Just felt like calling you up and checking in on you. Y'know, seeing how you're doing with the militia work."

"Oh, I've been doing just great lately. I've got an official squad to work with now, Squad Eight-Six-Two. I've never had a partner before—your sister in disguise doesn't count—so this is kind of new for me." He laughed. "They're pretty good guys and gals, actually."

She felt a pang when he laughed. She missed hearing it in person instead of over this stupid telephone connection. "Well, that's great to hear," she said. "They got names?"

"Eeyup, of course. Hard Copy, Pirouette, and Drumbeat. All earth ponies like me. They divide up squads like that down here, makes 'em easier to assign to tasks and defense work."

"Cool, cool, glad to hear you're making friends," she said, a sinking feeling in her gut. If he was making friends and feeling so happy, did he even need her?

"What about you, you getting out of the tower these days?" he asked, with what might have been concern in his voice; it was hard to tell with the audio distortion. "Last time we talked you said you were gonna head out to eat instead of eating at home all the time."

"Oh. Right. Um… yeah, I sure did," she lied, knowing damn well she still hadn't done it. "Got a PB&J at that sandwich place you showed me way back when. Good stuff. Got a little misty-eyed with nostalgia."

"That good of a sandwich, huh?"

"Yup, that good."

"Well, glad to hear it. Did you bring that colt with you? The one you were talking about before, uh… Green Guard, was it?"

She smiled weakly to herself, glad that he remembered her young protégé; knowing he cared about the kid made something in her stomach stir. "Yup, sure did. He liked it a lot."

"What did he get?"

"Uh… eggplant parmesan," she lied again, knowing that Green hadn't left the tower once since he was born. "It's his favorite." Well, at least that much was true.

"Good choice, good choice. Sounds like you really like this kid."

"Yeah, he's pretty special," she said, settling down entirely on the bed now and staring up at the ceiling while that warmth in her gut continued to flutter about. "Still a bit quiet, but I told him he doesn't have to rush if he doesn't want to, and that he doesn't just need to fill dead air, y'know?"

"You said you've been doing physical training with him, right? How's that going?"

She grinned. "Great, just great. He's benching about two hundred right now and getting stronger every day. Breaks the equipment if I'm not careful."

Flathoof whistled. "Two hundred?! And he's how old again?"

She laughed. "Just five. Don't forget, he's got abilities just like I do. Not the same kind, but still. He needs a proper outlet or he's liable to break a lot more than a few pieces of weightlifting equipment. He's getting stronger and learning control."

"Yeah, I know, but… wow. I'm feeling a bit self-conscious right now, y'know?"

"Why, what're you up to these days?"

"Best I've got is just a little shy of three hundred, and I barely managed it."

Now she whistled. "That's way better than it was last time I asked you. I bet you look great." She immediately regretted saying that, because she knew it was true but couldn't see the proof for herself.

"Heh… I mean, I guess so." He cleared his throat. "So… um…" Then, he sighed. "I know we can't stay on call all day, so in case we get disconnected, or if I have to leave for duty, I just wanted to tell you that I… I miss you. I don't want to sound like a broken record, but I just had to say it."

She felt her stomach turn into knots; it hurt so much to hear him say it. "I… know you do. I just… I need more time to think about what I want to do. I'm sorry I don't have an answer for you just yet."

He didn't respond for a good moment, long enough that she was worried the connection got lost. Then, he said, "I don't want to rush you, Gray. I know you'll let me know what you decide when you're ready. Just… take care of yourself, okay? Be safe."

"I will…"

There was another pause. "Hey, I'm sorry, but we just got a call and I've gotta get to it. I hope we can talk again soon. Maybe next week?"

"Yeah, next week sounds good."

"Great. I'll talk to you then. Bye."

There was a long, long silence, followed by a click on the other end.

"Bye…" Gray muttered to nopony at all. "I miss you too…"

She slowly hung up the phone, then let out a breath and put a pillow over her face.

Stupid stupid stupid! Why the hell can't I just tell him?!

She growled and snarled into her pillow for a good moment before chucking it across the room, then headed for the door and out into the hall, making a beeline for the tower elevator. She wasted no time at all in heading down a few levels to the tower's gym, which at this time of day was usually empty—Curaçao tended to do her aerobics in the evening, and Velvet preferred to do her cardio at the crack of dawn.

Once in the gym, Gray made directly for the punching bags, whereupon she loaded one up and wasted no time at all getting right to work on it. She struck it once, twice, three times with barely any effort at all, which at her strength level was still enough to rock it roughly back and forth on the chain. She struck it again, and again, putting more and more effort into every hit as she did so.

And with every strike, she thought about how stupid she was for not coming clean to Flathoof about much she missed him. Every strike, she thought about how stupid she was being for not just up and leaving for Hope's Point to be with him, and fuck whatever Dawn had to say about it. Every strike, she thought about how stupid it was that she couldn't find the guts to tell him how she really felt about him, about how the distance between them made her realize she didn't want to be apart from him anymore.

And every strike made her angrier, and angrier, and angrier about how stupid she was, about how selfish she was for keeping him hanging for an entire year, about how much she hated that her only contact with him was a distorted voice over a stupid phone call instead of being able to see him, touch him, or hear him without anything in the way.

Worst of all, she got angrier every time she thought about how much of a coward she was for not standing up to Dawn, who wanted her here so that she didn't "cause an incident by being romantically involved with the queen's brother-in-law" or whatever bullshit reason she'd given.

And with one last strike, the punching back ripped clean off its chain and smashed into the opposite wall hard enough to crack it. Gray was left staring and her handiwork, sweat beading on her brow, her breathing heavy.

She noticed something out of the corner of her eye, and turned to see Green Guard standing there watching her. He was the largest colt in his class by a fair margin, and he hadn't even hit puberty yet, so she was surprised she hadn't seen him there sooner; he was still just a colt, though, and she'd been a little heated, so she guessed he'd just escaped her notice.

A quick glance at the clock on the far wall told her that she'd been working the punching bag for several minutes, and that Green had shown up for today's workout a few minutes early. Gray wiped the sweat from her brow nonchalantly and turned to face her protégé fully.

"Hey, squirt," she said, sniffing back any potential sign that she'd been upset. "Sesh doesn't start for a few more minutes. Didn't expect to see you here yet."

Green nodded. "Class ended early. Black Bolt sneezed and short-circuited the TV again."

Gray raised an eyebrow. She liked Black Bolt, he was a good kid. Bad allergies, though, and they didn't interact well with his electricity powers. "Anypony get hurt?"

"No. The Overseer got spooked, but that's it. He's been acting weird since Miss Velvet left earlier. I saw them talking outside of the class area."

"Hey, no problem then," Gray said with a shrug. "We can get an early start if you want. I figure we can work on cardio today, so go on over and hop on the treadmill."

"Sure thing, ma'am," Green said with a nod. He then tilted his head, looking at the busted punching bag. "Is, um… is everything alright?"

Gray glanced over at the punching bag, then back to Green. "Yeah, everything's just fine," she lied. She tilted her head towards the treadmill. "Now stop stalling and get your butt over to the treadmill. We'll start you off at fifteen percent incline, keep you going for two miles. Y'know, starting off easy."

"Yes, ma'am."

Green hustled over to the treadmill and let Gray punch in the numbers, then started galloping in place on the machine while she watched.

Gray observed his posture, his speed, and his heart rate for any sign of slacking or overexertion, and was satisfied with what she saw. The colt was definitely a physical powerhouse, faster than any colt his age had any right to be, and with the kind of stamina that would make an adult jealous. All of the earth pony students had good stamina, this was true—she'd taken notice—but Green was far and away above the rest. Stronger too, and if Pedigree was right, tougher as well.

Yeah, she thought. This kid's special. Flathoof would like him…

Insipid sat at the table of a lovely little Romantique restaurant, just a little past her regular lunchtime. She'd worn one of her best dresses for the occasion, a purple and gold lace affair from her private collection that she hadn't worn in several weeks, so it was fair game and wouldn't spark any controversy. She'd ordered the salad to start, of course, and was eagerly waiting for her ratatouille to arrive; Curaçao had recommended it from this particular restaurant, and if anypony knew anything about good Romantique cuisine, it was Curaçao.

But she wasn't focused on any of that at the moment, not really. She was focused more on who sat across from her at the table: Sterling Shine, a suave earth pony with a silvery-gray coat and a perfectly-combed white mane. He was a trendy action star that she'd met earlier in the week at a party, and he had asked her out for lunch overtly enough in fact that quite a few ponies had overheard him do so.

Lace had subtly nudged her to accept the invitation, but Insipid didn't need Lace to tell her that; she'd fully intended to accept regardless. Sterling was popular, well-connected with a few big name directors, and most importantly, hot. Mares throughout the room now were staring in his direction or directing jealous glares at her, but Insipid didn't mind at all, because he was all hers right now.

"—and let me tell you, doing your own stunts is a surefire way to attract attention," Sterling said with his nose in the air. "You would not believe the sort of press I get after every Impossible Operation flick. Reporters are always eager to hear about how I managed to pull off the latest stunt."

Insipid gave a wistful sigh and set her chin on a hoof, leaning on the table. "Uh-huh…" she muttered, so lost in his eyes that she could barely register what he was saying.

"So in this latest installment, we filmed on-location out in the Wastelands rather than using a set," he continued, putting a hoof over his own chest. "And yes, I absolutely did jump from that airship without a parachute. Pretty amazing, right? Did the entire sequence in one take."

"Uh-huh…"

"So I dive after the villains, right? They've got the datadisk that contains the virus that can hack into the entire world's nuclear weapon stockpile, and my character Ace Hunter, he's gotta get it back." Sterling chuckled and used his hooves to help visualize the scene. "But the bad guys took all the parachutes! Sounds pretty dire, right?"

Insipid smiled and nodded. "Sure does. Like, how does Hunter win?"

Sterling grinned. "Well, in the scene, I dive fast enough to catch up to one of the baddies and try to take the parachute off of him mid-flight, but first we have a little scuffle. The ground's rapidly approaching and everything; if I don't get this parachute within the next ten seconds, I'm gonna hit the ground, kersplat!" He emphasized this by slapping the table hard enough to shake the silverware.

"Oh no!"

"But, y'know, I manage to get it off the guy and knock him out and away so that I have the parachute now. I deploy it just in time so that I can make a safe landing." Sterling brushed a hoof against his chest, a cocky smirk on his face. "Yeah, it looks awesome in the final cut. They really captured how dangerous the situation was and how my life—not just Hunter's—was at risk."

"Wow, that sounds so cool!" Insipid bubbled. "I guess you had a lot of pegasi on hoof to use for the other stuntponies?"

"Hmm?"

"Well, I mean like, if you took the parachute off of somepony else, he had to make it to the ground safely too, right?"

Sterling tilted his head. "Oh, yeah." He shrugged. "I guess, maybe? I don't really pay much attention to how the other stuntponies do their work unless it's directly involved with my stunt. After I get the parachute, it's entirely on him to get out of it. I mean, I guess he was a pegasus?"

"Still, you sure are brave jumping, like, for realsies," Insipid gushed, putting her hoof near his on the table. "It's really cool!"

"It is, isn't it? The Impossible Operation films always draw in a huge box office profit. Ponies want to see me doing all these dangerous stunts because they know I do them myself, and we always aim for bigger, more outrageous stuff every year."

"I haven't seen all of them yet," she admitted. "When you asked me out I watched the first one, though. You were amazing."

"Always am. The first one… ooh, I remember my favorite stunt from that one. We rigged up a building to collapse, and I leapt out of the window to escape and landed on the roof across from it." He patted her hoof reassuringly. "It's filmed at an angle that makes it look further away than it really was, but it was still a big jump."

She took a sip of her red wine—she knew what wines paired with what foods, and red went with ratatouille—and gave him a wide smile. "The worst danger I'm ever in is—"

"So anyway, we put that skydiving shot in all the trailers, of course," Sterling continued.

"—tripping over my own dress," she muttered. Sterling didn't seem to have heard her at all.

"It really draws in the crowds to see the most dramatic-looking stunt like that, because it's usually the biggest one in the movie." Sterling nodded sagely, tapping his hooves together. "But it's never the only one. There's a shot where I'm knife-fighting with an enemy agent and we get this super close shot of him nearly stabbing me in the eye with his knife. It's a real knife too, not a prop."

Insipid shook off the interruption. "So, like, you really almost got stabbed in the eye? Oh. My. Stars. That sounds super dangerous!"

"Oh, it was, but we did it slowly enough so that there wasn't a real risk, then sped it up in post. I wanted to use a real knife because it'll always look more real than even the best props or CGI ever could." He stuck his nose in the air and grinned. "The Impossible Operation films are the most realistic action movies on the market. That's my selling point."

"Well, I'll totally be sure to watch the others in the series before long, then," she said with a grin of her own. "Cha."

He took a sip of his own wine. "Please do. You'll be impressed, I guarantee it."

"Sooo…" She brushed her mane aside a little, just a casual flirtatious gesture Lace had taught her. "Have you ever been to any of my shows?"

"Shows? Oh, are you a theater actress? Just so you know, I've always had an appreciation for classically-trained actors. Don't let my blockbuster career fool you."

She blinked. "Um… no? I'm a fashion model. I wanted to know if you ever came to any of my fashion shows before."

"I can't say that I have," he replied with a tilt of his head. "Why do you ask?"

"Because you asked me out? I mean, I figured you must've known who I was or something and had an interest in fashion—"

"You know, come to think of it, I dated a model once back when the Impossible Operation series just started. What was her name again? Hmm…" He hummed and paused a moment, then shrugged. "Eh, what does it matter? We're not together anymore anyway, and that was quite a few years ago."

"Oh, uh… that's… nice?"

"Say, you said you're involved in fashion, right?"

"Yeah, that's right. I'm a model—"

He gestured at the black suit he was wearing. "Maybe you could give me some advice. My agent says that this color goes better with my eyes, but I disagree. I think green would bring them out more. What do you think?"

Insipid paused. "Well, I'm not, like, an expert on stallions' fashion or anything, but a green suit would be really tacky. And it does not go with your eyes, like, at all. Blue might work, but—"

He fiddled with one of the sleeves slightly. "So yeah, I'm thinking maybe I'll start wearing green more often. What does my agent know anyway? He's a talent agent, not a fashion designer. You'd know more than he would."

"But I'm not a designer either, though? I said I was a model—"

"So, have you seen any of my other work?" he asked with a wide grin. "I know that the Impossible Operation films are my passion project and they pay the bills, but I think I've got a pretty solid filmography at my back. I was nominated for a PFTA two years ago, you know? Best Actor, of course."

She narrowed her eyes. "Did you win?"

He blinked, then slumped back in his seat slightly. "Well, no. But the nomination is still a big deal! I'm not just a blockbuster action star, okay? I'm a serious actor too. You're sure you haven't seen any of my other work? Well, when you do, you'll see that I'm perfectly capable of doing other types of movies."

"Uh huh," Insipid replied, fighting to keep her tone courteous.

She had had enough of Sterling Silver by now. As somepony who loved to talk about herself, Insipid understood the desire to brag and posture; it was only natural for beautiful, talented, high-class ponies. But she also knew the importance of carrying on a proper conversation with another pony, that the experience was shared and thus both parties were expected to be able to contribute.

So she just continued to sit there and listen to him talk about himself, only ever asking her questions if they pertained to him in some way. She kept her responses short and polite, and maintained the proper amount of eye contact to indicate that she was listening, but she'd long since stopped paying much attention. She was more focused on sipping from her wine and eating her ratatouille when it arrived.

Sterling had the graciousness to at least pay the bill when it came, seeing as he asked her out. As the waiter left with his credit card, Sterling turned to Insipid and gave her that same winning smile that had, an hour ago, made her swoon. Now she noticed that his teeth weren't quite right; he had what Insipid could only describe as a "middle tooth" that was perfectly centered with his nose.

"So," he said, touching her hoof with his. "I was thinking for our second date that we could go to this lovely little Baroque place I know. It'll have to be in two weeks, since I have some shooting to do for this other big action movie I signed on for. It's about a mummy! I've got high hopes for it."

Insipid politely withdrew her hoof and gave him a polite smile. "I'm sorry, Sterling, but like, I think this date is our one and only."

"What? Oh! You must have something scheduled for then that you don't think you can cancel." He nodded in understanding. "Let me talk to whoever it is you've got this obligation to, and I'll make them adjust things so you can get away for an hour or two. I've got the right amount of pull in this town, y'know, especially for an aspiring actress like yourself."

"I appreciate the offer," she replied, wrinkling her nose at his lack of memory; she'd just told him she wasn't an actress. "But that's totally not what I meant. I meant there won't be a second date. Like, at all. It was fun, but like, I just don't think you felt anything special between us. Right?"

He blinked, stunned. "Wait, what? But I thought—"

Insipid rose from the table, taking her purse with her, and patted Sterling's cheek. "It's okay, Sterling. You just didn't find me all that interesting, but I'm sure there are, like, plenty of mares out there that you'd find much more to your liking." With a bright smile to show off her straighter teeth, she added. "Enjoy the rest of your day! Oh, and thanks for lunch. Toodles!"

She then strutted away from the table, proud of herself for turning the situation around. Making it seem as though he hadn't enjoyed her company would prevent the situation from getting out of hoof and potentially causing drama that she couldn't afford. She wasn't scared of what Sterling might do if she so casually dumped him like she technically just did, but she knew it wasn't worth risking.

She did sigh quietly to herself as she left the restaurant—alone—and hailed a chariot taxi. Paparazzi had of course gathered across the street, and were being just subtle enough that most ponies wouldn't realize that they were taking photographs of her leaving. The gossip rags would probably make this their top story for the week, just like they did every time she dated a stallion and then decided they weren't for her.

She was going to have to have a long talk with Lace and Lapel this weekend before the show. She loved them both dearly, but she was beginning to grow anxious about the image angle they were trying to craft for her. She'd coasted along for most of this year as being "available", and enough talk was going around about how she'd yet to find a partner that she was still in the public eye, but how long would that last?

She'd never really thought about having a coltfriend before that fateful conversation with Lace last year, and despite all her attempts, they all fell flat. There just weren't any guys out there that could keep her interest for more than a few weeks at most.

The best so far had been Sharp Tone, a trending pop music sensation who she'd met at a commercial shoot. He was a nice guy with a pleasant attitude and was a great kisser, but they both realized quickly that they had nothing in common beyond being beautiful ponies. Despite his label pushing for him to keep the relationship going, he and Insipid had both decided to end it. At least that had been mutual, and they were still friends.

As Insipid boarded her taxi and headed back home, she sighed again and looked skyward, wondering to herself if she'd ever find the kind of happiness that the most important ponies in her life had. Lace and Lapel, Curaçao and Shroud, Ivory and Virtuoso, Lockwood and Blackburn. Even Gray and Flathoof, despite their complications at the moment, were happy when they were together. Insipid didn't have anypony like that, and was worried that she never would.

No, today had not been as good as she was hoping it would be.

Dawn despised late meetings with the Committee. She preferred to get them out of the way as early in the day as possible so that she could focus the rest of her day on dealing with whatever issues needed to be addressed following said meeting. Taskmaster Concrete was either the master of getting on Dawn's nerves and was making these delays on purpose, or he was so unhealthy that the delays should be taken as a sign that he'd need a replacement sooner rather than later.

She hoped it was the latter; her father had never liked him much either.

"Doc said I've gotta watch my cholesterol intake," Concrete said; Blutsauger had asked him how his appointment had gone, likely to seem polite but mostly just to weasel out potentially useful information. "Might have to start cutting back on dairy."

Blutsauger nodded sagely. "Ja, that sounds like the proper advice in your situation. Doctor Heavenly knows her stuff, I assure you. She was a resident under my care years ago, you know?"

"I'm aware. She seems like the type of mare you'd insist on having under you," Concrete snorted derisively. "So yeah, apologies for postponing the meeting, everypony. Doctor's orders, you understand?"

"Quite," Dawn muttered, steepling her hooves. "If there are no further delays, I have assembled the Committee today to discuss the progress of our vaunted peace proposal." She turned her attention towards Admiral Hotstreak. "Admiral, I witnessed your public announcement of the official cessation of hostilities this morning, and had the transmission delivered to Hope's Point."

Hotstreak's mustache bristled; did it always do that? "Everything went better than I expected, but not as well as I'd hoped. Public opinion might be swaying in favor of this peace proposal, in no small part due to that New Pandemonium Times article about the royal wedding. I guess it helps if the average citizen realizes that even Her Majesty Queen Blackburn has a romantic side."

Vendetta grunted and grumbled, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "And to marry what her culture would consider a 'commoner' at that. È sconcertante. I'm still stunned that a random landlord under my employ managed to catch the queen's attention.

"Queen Blackburn's father married twice, once to a high-ranking officer in their military, then to a southern noble. Her grandfather was married to an Inner District socialite before they even established the city. Why would she aim her sights so low?"

"Not everypony marries for status and power, Vendetta," Champagne scoffed, touching up her mane. "Some ponies marry for love. I know you wouldn't know anything about that. How's the wife, by the way?"

"At home living a good life because of the status and power I provide her," Vendetta said with a cruel sneer. "I suspect the only reason Her Majesty married somepony so plebeian is to have somepony she can control. She'd been the queen for six year before marrying, so she had to be waiting for a reason. Likely just needed a pair of balls to give her a legitimate heir, that's it."

"If that's what caught her attention, he must have an extraordinary pair hanging off of him," Underhoof chortled. "More than what my ex could provide me with, at any rate."

Blutsauger clucked his tongue, shaking his head. "Ah, poor Chief Smokestack. There's no blow quite as harsh to a stallion's ego as learning they're infertile. The urge to sow one's oats is sometimes tremendous, ja?"

"Speaking from experience, Doc?" asked Concrete.

"If we can remain on topic, please?" Dawn interrupted, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking.

Hotstreak cleared his throat. "Right, well, as I was saying, public opinion might be in favor of the peace proposal right now, but I'm afraid that my concerns about the military reception are indeed true: I was met with a great deal of pushback from my officer corps when I made the announcement to them. After decades of training to fight Hope's Point, of believing them to be the enemy… well, old habits die hard."

"Will they prove a threat to the peace proposal?"

He shook his head. "I cannot say right now, as for the most part I think that the majority of them are just upset. I doubt any of them have the balls to try anything stupid. I have, at the very least, identified a number of officers that are in total support of the measures we're taking, so I know which ones I can trust with important duties. The rest will fall in line over time, one way or another."

Dawn nodded. "I will trust your assessment of the issue, Admiral." She then turned her attention to the others in the Committee. "Are there any further issues of note that require our attention? Secretary Quill, has opinion in the bureaucratic sector been agreeable as of late?"

Quill adjusted his glasses and nodded once. "Surprisingly so, Miss Dawn. The staunchest opponents to the proposal's success for most of the past year have changed their tune lately, saying that they thought it over and came to realize that the extra work hours will be worth giving our city the advancement it desperately needs."

"It seems, then, that they only needed time to come to terms with the future," Dawn said, barely able to hide a smile. Curaçao apparently did fine work in finding and blackmailing the individuals responsible for threatening Secretary Quill's life. "Cooler heads prevailed at last. If I might inquire, Secretary, does this mean you are now perhaps in favor of the peace proposal?"

"I am, Miss Dawn," he replied. "If my constituents are all in agreement, then I have no reason to oppose the proposal moving forward. I have already begun the admittedly arduous process of arranging for the various changes in our bureaucratic codes to cease punishment of citizens for collaborating with Hope's Point.

"Furthermore, as part of the proposal's guidelines, I've also begun taking steps to establish building codes and an allotment of real estate for the development of an embassy within our borders. I sent a notification to Her Majesty and her Council on the particulars required for them to purchase the land; it should arrive within a week's time."

Dawn let her smile show, impressed with Quill's initiative. "Exemplary work, Secretary. We may need to hasten our decisions regarding the assignment of an official ambassador to Hope's Point. If we display our willingness to open up our borders to their embassy, they will most certainly emulate our efforts."

"Agreed."

Vendetta grunted again. "I will remind this Committee once again that the city's economic sector does not support this peace going forward. I've had my top financiers and accountants go over the numbers, and we anticipate that New Pandemonium City is likely to go bankrupt, assuming we agree to these insulting reparation requests."

"I understand the concerns, Treasurer Vendetta," Dawn said evenly. "You assert them at every Committee meeting. But this peace proposal has been agreed upon by a five-to-two vote now that Secretary Quill is in full support, so I must remind you that it is your sworn duty to this Committee and to your position as Treasurer to ensure the success of the measure. Can I assume that you will do so?"

"I know my place, Shadow Associate Dawn," Vendetta said with a light smile. "I can assure you, I will do everything within my power, to the best of my ability, to ensure that your peace proposal is a success. I am merely voicing my continued discontent with the measure, as is my right, in hopes of enlightening this Committee to the ramifications of its success."

"Very well, your continued discontent is noted." Dawn turned her attention to the rest of the Committee again. "Any further issues to address?"

Director Underhoof shifted in her seat. "It's not related to the peace proposal, but I do have a concern I'd like to bring to the attention of the Committee."

"The floor is yours, Director."

"Over the past year-and-a-half, there have been many reports of disappearances in several different parts of the Mid Districts. While my agents have yet to determine if they are all connected, we have naturally noticed the increase in volume, and frankly, it's been disturbing. I even had the agents working the cases look deeper into it, and we found that the Outer Districts have dealt with the issue as well, and in much higher numbers."

"What sort of numbers?"

"We've got an estimate at the moment of over one hundred cases from the Mid Districts, and quadruple that from the Outer Districts. And those are just the cases that we've deemed are possibly connected, not counting the 'average' annual cases and cases that we've managed to solve."

"Over five hundred ponies just don't go missing, Director," said Quill. "Surely these are abductions of some sort and this is just an upswing in the city's crime rate as of late? History shows that we have dealt with higher crime rates in the past, though it's been rather low most of this year."

"Maybe, though that would assume that we're getting similar upswings in other crimes and misdemeanors. My statistics show that discounting these disappearances, the city's crime rate is three percent lower this year than last year, which was already six percent lower than the prior year."

"Who cares if a bunch of slum rats go missing?" grunted Concrete, ever swine-like. "I wouldn't even bother counting those numbers, Underhoof. I'm more concerned that the Mid Districts are dealing with so many."

"Agreed," said Vendetta with a nod. "Most of the elite class in our fair city may not pay them much mind, but I'm fully aware that we depend upon the middle class for the majority of our services."

Dawn nodded as well. "Director Underhoof, has your investigation met with any success thus far? You have kept this Committee informed of these disappearances for over a year now, but apart from circumstantial belief that they are connected, and with no trace whatsoever of the ever-growing number of missing ponies, I am beginning to wonder if this might be beyond your scope."

Underhoof paused, looking mildly insulted. "I assure you, Miss Dawn, my department is putting all of our efforts into investigating this issue. Believe me, I'm just as aggravated as you are that we haven't been able to find hide nor hair of any of the missing ponies. It's not like they could've just vanished off the face of Equestria, but there haven't been any witnesses whatsoever."

"Would it help if the NPAF got involved with the investigation?" asked Hotstreak, stroking his mustache. "With this Committee's approval, I can lend the CIA a number of AMP Troopers to assist them with anything they need. I doubt the CIA and NPPD alone can patrol the streets and the city outskirts enough to catch anypony in the act, but the AMPs can."

Dawn shook her head. "I will not have our city's streets flooded with mechanical soldiers, Admiral. Your suggestion amounts to imposing martial law, and with the peace proposal ongoing, we cannot afford to allow our potential allies to witness such paranoia. Her Majesty may misinterpret the gesture."

"I agree with Miss Dawn, mostly because I feel it would draw too much attention to our investigation." Underhoof sighed. "We can't catch whoever might be responsible for these disappearances if they simply fall back because we cast too big of a net. A subtle approach would be best. I just need more time and resources."

"Perhaps that we can agree upon," Dawn said. "Members of the Committee, let us commence a vote to increase the allotment of resources for the CIA in the interest of solving this investigation."

The votes passed with a unanimous seven votes. Only Concrete had hesitated, but he went along with it in the end.

"I believe, then, that all of our business for today is concluded," Dawn said, glancing amongst the Committee. "This meeting is adjourned."

The windows all winked out as the Committee members left the call and prepared to go about their days. Dawn herself was about to get out of her seat to do the same when she received an incoming call from Treasurer Vendetta. She huffed and returned to her seat, but answered the call without much delay.

"Treasurer Vendetta," she greeted flatly. "There must be some matter that you wish to bring to my attention privately. Explain."

Vendetta smiled gently and confidently leaned against his desk. "There is indeed, signorina, in regards to the financial matters of this peace proposal. I wished to discuss with you if we could perhaps find an alternative to negotiating these reparations, as far as requiring the negotiations to be between myself and… Secretary Virtuoso."

"Hmm… I would be willing to entertain any suggestions on the matter. I assume that you feel your feud with Virtuoso may potentially sour the mood or perhaps cause issues with achieving peace?"

"That is precisely it, but… I was wondering if we might have a chat in private? And I don't mean via this video conversation, either. Perhaps… over dinner tonight?"

Dawn hummed briefly. "I was intending to make preparations for partaking in dinner shortly. I suppose conversing with you on the issue over a meal would certainly provide an expedient usage of my time." She nodded. "Very well. Provide me with a location where we can rendezvous."

Vendetta's smile widened. "Eccellente. You won't be disappointed, mia cara."

Dawn applauded herself and Treasurer Vendetta for the terrific idea of meeting over dinner; it proved to be most expedient indeed. She was able to partake in an exquisite meal of Baroque cuisine—Vendetta naturally knew where the best offerings in the city would be—and to do so while discussing business. Usually she took her meals privately since she didn't like to be disturbed, but she'd never considered this possibility before.

The atmosphere was pleasant as well, surprisingly soothing actually. A candlelit table at the back of the restaurant proved an ideal place to hold a private conversation, especially when Vendetta had apparently cleared out the entire venue for his own use tonight. A truly private atmosphere; even the waiter knew to keep his distance and only approached the table when Vendetta signaled for him.

The strange thing about the evening was really how cordial Vendetta was throughout it all. Granted he was always polite and professional when they spoke in private, and he had made it clear to her many times that his opposition to her plans did not reflect upon his respect for her; it was "just business" after all. There was just something a little more… amicable about his behavior tonight. Maybe it was just because they were face-to-face instead of separated by a screen?

"I think that we're in agreement then?" he asked as he topped off her glass of magmaberry wine, her favorite. "You'll have words with Her Majesty in regards to the financial negotiations?"

"I do not perceive any potential harm in doing so," she replied, delicately taking the wine and clinking her glass against his, as was polite. "Her Majesty must understand that the feud between yourself and Virtuoso may yet prove itself a roadblock in our peace agreements. I imagine it to be an unlikely scenario where she does not realize this if I bring it to her attention."

"I couldn't ask for more, signorina. So, it would seem as if we have settled our business for the evening, yes?"

Dawn nodded and glanced at her empty plate as well as his. "It would seem so, and it would also seem as though we have concluded our meals. A most expedient usage of our time this was indeed, as I anticipated. Kudos to you, Treasurer."

Vendetta set his wine glass down, scooted along the booth so that he was right next to her, and took her hoof in both of his. The gesture surprised her; this wasn't typical behavior for a business dinner. Then again, perhaps things were slightly different in Baroque customs? That had to be it, so she didn't let herself show any confusion for more than a second.

"Dawn, mia cara, can you forgive me?" he said, giving her a sincere look.

She tilted her head; what a perplexing question. "Forgive you for what?"

He sighed dramatically, then gestured with one hoof around the room. "I am afraid that while all of this has proven most fruitful, I had an ulterior motive for asking you here for dinner. The business discussion was important, yes, absolutely, but one that we could have conducted as we have all of our other business meetings."

"I do not follow."

His hooves gripped hers again, and he gently stroked the pastern while looking into her eyes. "Allow me to be honest with you, Dawn: I asked you here because I could no longer restrain myself, could no longer stand our only contact being over a video call. I have wanted to meet you in person for quite some time."

"Ah, I see. Then you prefer the intimacy of a physical encounter," she said with a knowing nod. "Completely understandable. I, too, have found the constraints of the video conferences to be cold and impersonal. It is my understanding that Her Majesty Queen Blackburn attends all of her Council meetings in person, and I envy that."

He smiled warmly at her. "I agree wholeheartedly, mia cara. A computer screen does not do your beauty justice. Here, I can hear your voice clearly, see your face in the subtle glow of the candlelight, smell your perfume." His hooves roamed up her foreleg ever-so-slightly. "Feel the softness of your coat."

She glanced down at his hooves, and raised an eyebrow. Baroque customs were quite confusing; she would need to ask Curaçao about the intricacies of the culture so that she could better understand them.

She was most confused though when Vendetta leaned in towards her face. "Perhaps… taste the warmth of your lips?" he whispered as he moved in, lips puckered just so.

This was a gesture she recognized. Why was he trying to kiss her? That wasn't a Baroque custom too, was it? Romantique custom involved kissing cheeks as a greeting, but she'd never heard of anything lip-related, and that seemed too personal to be part of even Baroque culture.

"What are you doing?" she asked, pulling back slightly so that he didn't make contact, not until she had some answers.

He pulled back as if surprised by the question. "Che cosa?"

"You attempted to kiss me," she said, trying not to sound upset, because she wasn't; she was just confused. "Why?"

He looked just as confused as she was. "What do you mean, 'why'? Is it not obvious, mia cara?"

"Is what obvious?"

He squeezed her hoof tenderly; she was growing more irritated by the gestures by the minute because she didn't know why he was doing them. "You are the most incredible mare I have ever met, Dawn. Cervello, bellezza, potere, you have it all. Any stallion would be a fool not to see you as the ideal partner, the ideal mate."

She shook her head, utterly lost. "I was under the belief that you were married, Treasurer Vendetta. You already possess a partner—"

"A mare like you is worth upsetting the wife over." He sighed and leaned in again. "This 'hard-to-get' attitude of yours is just… perfezione."

"'Hard-to-get'? What—"

"What do you want me to say, mia cara? That I want you? Stars above, I do. I have never wanted a mare as badly as I want you. My heart aches every moment that we are not together."

Dawn paused as all of the gears clicked into place. "Wait… you are romantically attracted to me? Specifically, you possess romantic feelings for me?"

He pulled back, eyebrows raised. "I… yes? Have I not made that obvious by now?"

She pulled her hoof away from him slowly. "Then I am afraid that it is I who owes you an apology, Treasurer Vendetta, for I must inform you that these romantic feelings are not mutual; I hold none for you." She nodded firmly, satisfied with her assertion. "I have neither the time nor the inclination to enter into a romantic relationship, or more succinctly, I consider myself aromantic."

"Ah… I see. An unfortunate setback." He took her hoof in his again. "Mia cara, if that is your wish, then so be it. We need not enter into any sort of romance." With a sultry grin, he added, "But there are other sorts of relationships we can partake in besides romantic."

"What do you mean?"

"The pleasures of the heart are one thing, Dawn, but the pleasures of the flesh are another. If you don't desire love from me, then so be it." His other hoof went beneath the table and touched her leg, moving up towards her thigh. "I would settle for sharing each other's bodies if we cannot share our hearts."

"I… I do not follow—"

"I said that I wanted you, Dawn. Not just your heart, of course, but all of you." His muzzle came up to her ear. "All of you."

Dawn glanced down at his hoof as it snaked its way further up, much too far up in fact, then leveled him with a glare. "Remove your hoof from me immediately, Treasurer."

"Mmhmm, that's the attitude I'm talking about. You have no idea how much of a turn-on it is to have a mare like you pretend she doesn't want it. They all want it in the end, though."

Her horn flared, and she snatched his hoof and abruptly yanked it away; she had to resist the urge to put enough power into the spell to quite literally rip him apart. She looked him in the eyes, barely repressing the sudden rising anger even though she knew it was justified. She despised him with every ounce of her being, but killing or maiming him would solve nothing and potentially make things worse.

"There is no pretending here," she hissed. "I have no interest in you, or anypony else, romantically or sexually. Was I not clear earlier?"

He scoffed, unfazed by her sudden display of force. "You would be surprised how excited a mare gets when she knows what I can give her. Not just money, but power, control. You say 'no' now, but—"

"Shut up," she spat. "I am not just some mare that you can harass or bribe into compliance. I am the most powerful mare in this city, more powerful than you seem to believe. So I warn you now, if you so much as think about placing your hooves on me again, you will see just how powerful I really am."

Vendetta smirked and scooted away slightly, as if feigning fear. "Dawn, mia cara—"

"Do not attempt to finagle your way out of this," she snarled as she rose from her seat. "I never paid much heed to it before, but witnessing this display opened my eyes to the repugnance within my sister's tale."

He seemed confused, as though she were speaking an alien language. "Scusami?"

"My sister, Curaçao. She recounted a chance meeting with you at a charity ball roughly two years ago, in which you attempted to force yourself upon her romantic partner similarly to what you have attempted upon me just now. Until this moment I did not comprehend the magnitude of that situation."

His eyes narrowed in thought, then suddenly opened in surprise and… concern? Worry? "The masquerade ball. I remember that mare—" He then paused and stared wide-eyed at Dawn, his pupils tiny. "Lei è tua sorella? She's you sister?"

"She is."

"Merda." Vendetta sat up straight and set his hooves on the table, then looked straight ahead, away from Dawn entirely. "I apologize, Shadow Associate Dawn. My behavior was uncalled for." He cleared his throat briefly. "I hope that my utter lack of proper decorum does not affect our working relationship?"

Dawn stared at him briefly, then gave him a terse nod. "I will not mention this to anypony. We will return to business as usual: I will endeavor to further this peace proposal, while you will continue making your puerile points of contention." She briefly lit up her horn. "However, allow me to make clear that should you make any attempts to stymie my efforts to broker peace with Hope's Point going forward, you will regret it."

"Duly noted."

"Enjoy the remainder of your evening, Treasurer Vendetta," she said. With a glance at the table, she added, "Thank you for dinner. It was delicious; my compliments to the chef."

And with that, she strode off with all the confidence in the world before teleporting immediately back to her office at Pandora Tower, eager to place as much distance between herself and Vendetta as possible.

Curaçao relaxed in bed late that night, comfortable under the warm covers of her and Shroud's bed. She slaved away at the datapad in her hooves, swiping her hoof to and fro to sort through data and organize it in such a way that it would be clear to anypony else that read it. Most of these dossiers were for Dawn's benefit, but Dawn was the sort to be more invested in statistics and practical information than in emotional observations.

When Curaçao put together similar dossiers for Havoc, she scaled it down to be a quick, easy summary; Havoc read between the lines fairly well but wasn't a fan of the numerical aspects.

As she finished one dossier and moved onto the next, Curaçao chanced a glance over at Shroud, who was fast asleep by her side. Shroud always looked so peaceful when she slept, especially in the past year or so; Curaçao had ensured that the mare she loved would never have to go through the sort of stressful days bogged down with work that she once did. She took a portion of that burden upon herself, and practically made Dawn take up some of the slack as well.

It made her particularly happy to see the little gold earring in Shroud's ear, which matched the earring she herself had. Fond memories came to her of last month's wedding.

It had been a small, private ceremony conducted here in the tower itself, and all of the staff and Curaçao's family were invited along if they were able to make it. She didn't hold it against anypony that didn't come—she hardly expected the janitorial staff to care—and that included Dawn, who had been unable to pull herself away from her work to attend.

The actual ceremony had been short, the after-party had been short, but then their wedding didn't need to be a grand affair. They weren't like most normal couples, so they didn't need to have a normal wedding. The wedding night, though, had not been short; Curaçao had pulled out all the stops to give Shroud a night she'd never forget.

Curaçao turned her attention back to her work with a renewed smile on her face. Her next project was an ongoing one, and one that she and Shroud had been working on for a few weeks now. It was a delicate procedure, because anything that involved the CIA tended to be delicate at times, but especially these days when they were busy investigating a string of strange disappearances. The department couldn't appear to be compromised or it might disrupt the investigation.

Once it was done, though, Curaçao was looking forward to operating a little more openly on certain issues.

"Hey, Curie? You got a minute?" came Velvet's voice in her head.

Curaçao did not stop her work, but responded to her sister nonetheless. "Oui, I have all the time you need, Velvet."

"Great, I'm glad I caught you at a good time. Okay, so, uh… I'll just get to the point: I'm worried about Gray."

Now Curaçao paused, because this had come out of nowhere. "Is there something wrong?"

"C'mon, sis, you know there is. There has been for a long time. I'm only bringing this up because I think it might be getting worse, and I felt that I needed to do something about it."

"Ah… oui, I know what you mean," Curaçao said with a sigh. Gray had long since forgiven her for what had happened regarding the Hoof Family moving south, but the two were still not on the best of terms, and likely wouldn't be for a while longer. "What's troubling you?"

"Well, Green Guard said he went up to do his daily workout with her—he's such a good kid—and when he got there, he saw that she'd been really emotional about something. She busted another punching bag."

"Ouah, that is the fifth one this month. Those aren't cheap, you know?"

"Well, apparently she hit it so hard she actually cracked the wall. I went up and checked it out afterwards, then called in the repair crew so, uh, I took care of that before anypony could tell Dawn about it." A pause. "We both know she can't keep doing this to herself, sis."

"She is free to leave whenever she wants," Curaçao murmured. "I have made that perfectly clear to her many, many times. I do not know why she doesn't go."

"You know how she is, Curie: indecisive. Not lazy, like Dawn thinks she is, but not much better. And it's not helping that Flathoof's too damn nice to just ask her to move south. He thinks he's doing the right thing by not making her decide."

"A true gentlecolt, in my opinion, but I can see your point."

Velvet scoffed. "See, this is why I don't believe in monogamous relationships. Avoids all this shit." A brief pause. "Not that there's anything wrong with what you've got. I said the same thing to Pinkie once, y'know? Nothing wrong with eating the same flavor lollipop every day instead of trying something new. Just not my speed."

"Oui, nice save," Curaçao replied, glancing towards Shroud, her raspberry lollipop, with a grin. "I want to help, truly I do, but I do not think Gray wants me to get involved in her vie privée."

"Well we've gotta do something," Velvet grumbled. "Either she needs to break up with Flathoof and find somepony closer to home—I knew a few guys she'd dig—or she needs to get off her ass and move south. C'mon, sis, you've gotta have an idea. I don't want to force her to do anything, but dammit, I will if I have to. She's miserable!"

Curaçao rubbed her chin briefly, glancing over the document she was currently working on. She hadn't planned on things working out this way, but maybe she could help, in a manner of speaking. "Well… I think I might have one idea."