"Hitch, do I really need to keep doing this?" Sprout asked, his voice bearing the usual, slightly whiny tint he'd become known for.
Hitch, sitting in his Sheriff's chair, arched an eyebrow to him. "Yes, Sprout, at minimum. And if you keep complaining, I'll have to ask you to do even more."
Sprout grumbled under his breath, but didn't press the matter. Instead, he turned to face the whiteboard beside him, lifting up the pen he'd been given before finally writing on it, speaking the words aloud as he did so. "I will not use ponies' fears to create a totalitarian regime with myself at the top."
Hitch leaned closer. "Aaaaaaaand?"
Sprout rolled his eyes. "Nor will I create a giant, robotic doomsday version of myself to wreak havoc."
A firm nod from Hitch. "That's better. Now, just write that a hundred times, and you'll be done for the day." Picking up his newspaper, the young stallion smirked a little. "After you take down our old line-up wall."
Sprout took a break from his writing to look to the wall in question, where those they'd arrest would be lined-up for photos. The wall, as it had always done, before the shadowy caricatures of a pegasus and unicorn, looking as scary as they'd usually depicted them. Sighing, the now-again deputy nodded. "Ugh, fine." After writing that apologetic sentence on the whiteboard a couple more times, he looked over his shoulder to his superior. "You know, now that earth ponies are supposed to be friends with unicorns and pegasi again, what's even the point of the two of us? I mean, Maretime bay doesn't really have much use for us anymore."
Setting his newspaper down, Hitch hopped off his chair before walking around his desk. "It's true, we no longer fear what we don't understand. But there will always be a place for the law and order that we represent."
Realising what he'd unleashed, Sprout banged his head against the whiteboard, slightly smudging his writing. "Oh no, what have I done?"
Ignoring him, Hitch carried on with his speech. "Wherever a pony litters, we'll be there. Wherever a bunch of rowdy-looking youths loiters near some easily-terrified elders, we'll be there. Whenever a cat is stuck up a tree, we'll be there. Maretime Bay is our home, and no matter how small the trouble, we'll be its guardians, come heck or high water!"
A sudden clapping of hooves caught the two stallions off-guard, and they turned together to see that it was Sprout's mother, Phyllis, who had just arrived at the station. "Well said, Sheriff. A fine speech indeed."
Hitch took on a slightly prideful look, rubbing his Sheriff's badge briefly. "Thanks you, Mrs Cloverleaf. I practice."
Sprout chuckled drily. "Trust me, he really does." Then, looking to his mother, he started to look a bit more hopeful. "So...you here to take me home, Mom?"
But Phyllis shook her head, wagging her hoof to her son. "Ah-ah, Sprout. There'll be no getting out of detention early."
Sprout facehoofed himself. "It's not detention, Mom! It's community service!"
But his mother seemed unconcerned with the difference. "Either way, you still have a lot to work on, son. So chop-chop!"
Hitch eyed her carefully. "And speaking of which, there is the tiny matter of Canterlogic and its staff being used to help push his little coup."
Here, Mrs Cloverleaf smiled. "Ah, and that brings me to the second reason I'm here, aside from visiting my little Sprouty-wouty," she explained, giving her son's cheek a quick pinch, much to the latter's chagrin. Then, after clearing her throat, she spoke aloud in that usual presentation voice she'd become known for. "As of today, Canterlotgic will no longer be creating anti-unicorn or pegasi appliances. Instead, we will be focusing on devices for those good folk!"
Hitch sat back into his chair, his tone giving away his surprise. "Really?"
Phyllis nodded, her smile widening. "Indeed! Why, we've already begun manufacture of our new flight goggles, with the option of customisation of course. And that's just the beginning! Unicorn horn bracelets, pegasi wing-feather dye, the sky's the limit."
Hitch nodded, then looked over to Sprout. "See? She knows how to start making things right."
But Sprout gave him a knowing look. "Wait for it."
Following that, Phyllis couldn't help herself. "And of course, it's all in everypony's best interests for us to expand our product base, given that we now have triple our usual clientele to deal with! Think of all those bits pouring into the company!"
Sprout snorted. "Yep, there it is."
Hitch rubbed his temples. "Well, I guess it's more important that you are doing good work, rather than why you're doing it."
Phyllis glanced to him, looking deep in thought for a brief moment before speaking up. "And since I'm here...it's likely you'll be meeting with Miss Sunny again soon, so perhaps you could relay an invitation? I would love for her to come over for some afternoon tea this week."
Both Sprout and Hitch looked to her, taken aback by her offer. "Really?" Sprout asked.
Phyllis looked to him. "But of course! You may have noticed, but I haven't exactly been the nicest of mares to her over the years. Always thinking of her as an odd duck because of how her...well...how she was raised."
Hitch frowned. "That's one way of putting it."
Phyllis heard the remark, but, knowing the stallion had the right of it, did not try to defend herself. "In any case, I think it's high past time I tried to mend some bridges."
Hitch considered that, then offered her a genuine smile. "In that case, Mrs Cloverleaf, consider your message delivered."
Phyllis clapped her hooves together again. "Delightful! Now..." She turned to her son. "I'll see you back home, son. It's your favourite for dinner tonight. Boiled sprouts!"
Sprout actually seemed to like that thought, but his smile faded as soon as he saw Hitch suddenly looking very amused by that information. "Wait, seriously?!" the latter remarked.
Narrowing his eyes, Sprout pointed an accusatory hoof to the Sheriff. "You take that one to your grave!"