It would be rude to say that if Mrs. Toffee Stickybeak couldn’t live through others, she wouldn’t be alive. It would also be accurate. Her husband worked late most nights in his climb up the corporate ladder, her son attended a very prestigious college on the other side of the country, and her daughter wept with joy the night before she started boarding at Crystal Prep.
All that success gave Mrs. Stickybeak plenty to brag about, but it also left her with an empty nest for most of the day. Soap operas could only fill the void so much, and so…
Well, calling it gossipmongering would be even more rude. And even more accurate. If asked, Mrs. Stickybeak would claim she was just being an attentive neighbor, and probably add something about how most children—nothing like her darlings—didn’t go out and actually talk to people face to face anymore, just like she’d been telling all the people in her MyStable groups.
Besides, most people didn’t have as intriguing a neighbor as Sunset Shimmer. The girl had just shown up out of the blue one day, clearly too young to be living on her own yet doing exactly that. A discrete call to the police had seen them come and go with no indication of dragging the girl out for her own good… which just made her more intriguing. Likewise the concerned check-in that had the girl stonewall Mrs. Stickybeak at her front door for a good ten minutes.
Mrs. Stickybeak had kept a close eye on Sunset for years now. Especially now that, after so long spent barely acknowledging a soul, she was letting other girls her age into her home.
And if, on a lovely April day, the windows should happen to be open for spring cleaning while a poor old lady should happen to lose a contact lens right in front of it…
“I mean, technically, it’s not cannibalism.”
Mrs. Stickybeak froze, then scurried to one side of the narrow little townhouse’s stoop, ears pricked for the voices drifting down from the second floor.
“Really now, Rainbow Dash," groaned a much more cultured, if still very young voice, "must you?”
“I’m not saying Sunset would eat someone. I’m just saying, it wouldn't be as weird if she did it.”
The next groan was definitely from Sunset Shimmer. “Dash, I’m still not comfortable eating cow.”
“Beef, darling.”
“Using Prench doesn’t make it any better, Rarity. The last thing I’d want to do is consume someone who I know is a thinking, talking person, not just someone who should be.”
Mrs. Stickybeak's mind raced as she tried to make sense of that. Was Sunset some manner of extreme animal rights activist? It wasn't entirely out of the question; one of her new friends always seemed to have three or four pets hanging around her.
Rarity made several shocked sounds in quick succession. “Wait, you don’t mean… Cows? Really?”
“I mean, I never knew any cattle personally, but the princess always said they were some of the toughest negotiators she ever dealt with.”
Images of Sunset marching with a protest sign stuttered to a halt as Mrs. Stickybeak tried to take in the new information. "What?" she whispered.
“Hey," said Rainbow Dash, "doesn’t she move the sun and moon?”
"What."
“One would think that would give her a rather commanding position in negotiations.”
“She always hated leaning on creatures like that. At the time, I thought it was because she didn’t have the spine for it, but…" Sunset sighed. "Well, I was awful back then.”
Rarity hummed to herself. “We may have to follow through on Twilight’s idea about a regret jar.”
“Looking back helps me appreciate how far I’ve come since.”
“Speaking from experience, if you try to go forward while looking back, you’re just going to run into something.”
“Why, Rainbow Dash, that was very nearly poetic." Rarity tittered. It was a good titter, the sort that usually needed two glasses of wine as a run-up. "Though one could say she ran into our Twilight, so it wasn’t all bad, hmm?”
Mrs. Stickybeak gladly stopped trying to make sense of what she'd heard earlier. That tone of voice always meant something worth hearing.
“I…" Especially when it made someone like Sunset Shimmer hesitate. "I don’t know what you’re talking about. And she has a boyfriend.”
“Indeed. One conspicuously absent from this cruise she’s so excited about. Whereas you—”
“The peak of the spring season’s coming at Camp Everfree. Timber couldn’t come anyway.”
“Why, Sunset, it’s like you’re afraid of even trying.” Rarity's pout was audible.
“Or maybe," said Sunset, steel in her voice, "just maybe, I don’t want to ruin a friend’s happiness just to catch her on the rebound.”
“… Ah.”
And for a few minutes, there was nothing but the sound of shifting containers.
“You do know she’s bi, right?” said Rainbow Dash.
“Yes, Dash, she's told us all about her fan-crush on Rosette Nebula. And if she and Timber ever do break up naturally and of their own accord, then after a tactful amount of time, if she is open to a relationship, we’ll see what happens.”
“Yeesh. Just saying.”
Sunset groaned. “Can we just get back to spring cleaning? I swear some of this stuff followed me here from Canterlot.”
“Uh—” Rainbow Dash echoed Mrs. Stickybeak's thoughts.
“The other Canterlot." A heavy thud punctuated Sunset's failure to clarify anything. "Obviously.”
“Yeesh. Touchy.”
“Well, maybe don’t tempt me with what keeps me up at night!” Sunset shouted, loud enough that Mrs. Stickybeak could have heard it from her front porch.
“Does Twilight know that?” Rarity said gently.
“Of course not. What am I supposed to say, ‘I had to get new furniture cleaner because the pine-scented stuff reminds me of your boyfriend’?”
After a moment, Rainbow Dash said, “Rarity, help me out here, is that romantic?”
“I’m not sure myself.”
“Can we please talk about something else? How about Rarity and Applejack?”
“We're doing splendidly, thank you." Rarity cleared her throat. "Even if she doesn’t seem to realize we’re together quite yet.”
“Didn’t you go on a date last night?” said Sunset.
“That’s what I thought," Rarity grumbled. "She seems to think I kiss all of you on the lips after a girls’ night out. I’m thinking of throwing myself at one of the cabin boys on the cruise and seeing how she reacts.”
“I don’t see that ending well.”
“Yes, but I need to see how it doesn’t end well.”
“Have you ever considered, you know, talking to her about this?”
There went the multi-scoff again. “I’ll happily do so after you open up to Twilight.”
“Hey, guys?" Rainbow Dash said with unusual clarity. "How come there’s some lady squatting by the stairs?”
Mrs. Stickybeak froze, slowly turning to see a blue girl staring at her from the stoop, filled wastebasket in her arms. "Er..."
The others stuck their heads out of the doorway. Presumably the white one was Rarity. Going by her flat expression, she already suspected what was going on. Sunset just looked confused. “Mrs. Stickybeak?”
“Aheh." She straightened up and brushed any dust off her dress. "Just, uh, lost my contact lens!”
Sunset narrowed her eyes. “You don’t need glasses.”
“New prescription! If you’ll excuse me.” Mrs. Stickybeak walked away as nonchalantly as she could... which meant an awkward marching gait just shy of a jog.
Still, that didn't mean she'd stopped listening.
“So does she know you’re a unicorn?”
The audible smack likely meant Sunset had facepalmed. “Say it louder, Dash. I think a few houses at the end of the block missed that.”