Finally free from the armor and trappings of office for the day, Lieutenant Lance was free to let out a long, well-earned groan of tiredness, frustration, and other assorted emotions.
A hot shower, and a stiff drink at the bar with the other guards was just what the doctor ordered for the evening, even if a little bit of hobbling was needed in order to get there.
Going by the sight waiting in the shower room, that being a fellow guard washing up, it seemed like that idea wasn't entirely unique. Although the amount of steam coming from the occupied area was a little unusual. As was the muttering and the furious scrubbing that could be heard over the running water. And that was just inviting curiosity.
"Hey, Sergeant."
The call did nothing to distract the periwinkle stallion from scrubbing himself down like he was actively trying to remove his own fur.
"Kowalski!" Lance called while trotting over. "What're you doing?"
Kowalski grunted in response. "Trying to get myself clean. I can still feel all kinds of filthy on me. It's creeping all along my coat, down on my skin!"
Lance's brow furrowed in confusion, and maybe a few other things as well.
"Sergeant, that's an unhealthy amount of hot water you're working with; you're a pony, not a lobster! Put down that soap, turn off that shower, and tell me what's going on here before you end up injuring yourself!"
The periwinkle stallion grunted in response, but had little option to comply with his superior, reluctantly doing as told as he stood there, sopping wet and looking quite haggard and none too happy.
"Now then. What's all this about? What's got you going all germaphobe like that?" Lance asked again.
Kowalski sighed, looking like he wanted to look anywhere but forward as he chewed on his bottom lip. It was only after a long moment of visibly uncomfortable hesitation that he spoke up again.
"I was talking with some of the palace maids earlier in the day. Asking how their day was going, seeing if they had plans after work, what they had in mind, etc. stuff like that. Then I noticed a new maid with them that I'd never seen around the palace before and tried to talk with her. I asked her if she wanted to join me for drinks tonight at the palace cantina.
"And the next thing I know, Lieutenant Strike is suddenly yelling at me about fraternization and a lack of decorum, and citing palace regulations by memory," he groaned.
"Okay, I'll admit that's a bit odd. Strike's always been uptight about following regulations, but he usually doesn't take others to task like that," Lance acknowledged. "And it really doesn't explain this, either."
"You don't understand, Lieutenant. He didn't find me flirting with the maids, he was the one I was flirting with!" Kowalski stressed.
"... Come again?" Lance asked.
"Lieutenant Strike was wearing a maid's uniform," he stressed, "and I didn't find out until he started speaking, after I'd already been flirting with him! I invited him to drinks and everything!"
Lance was, understandable, taken aback by this statement. Left trying to process what'd just been heard.
"Are we sure we're talking about the same pony here? Thunder Strike, the stallion who conducts himself like he's a living recruitment poster... he was wearing a dress?"
"And makeup," Kowalski stressed further. "And looking very convincing while doing it, too..."
Lance could only stand their dumbly while wearing a blank look, the very notion being far too much to properly comprehend. There was simply too much of a divergence between what was known, and what had just been heard.
Thunder Strike, the same stallion whose social life consisted of sitting down to dinner in the mess hall, and whose most significant relationship was with his own armor... had actually been wearing makeup and one of those frilly little dresses just like the maids? There was obviously only one appropriate response that could be had under these circumstances.
"PFFT!"
That being to laugh to the point of nearly toppling over backwards at just how utterly ridiculousness the entire notion of it all was.
All the while Kowalski stood there, dripping and scowling. "I'm so happy to know my embarrassment fills my superiors with such mirth..."
Lance slowly calmed down, bringing the laughter under control before responding.
"I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at you, Sergeant, I promise. It's just... Thunder dressed up like a maid? I just can't... was he cute?"
"He was unreasonably adorable..." Kowalski grumbled as his ears flattened against his skull in defeat. "The way the dress fit his frame, the quality of his makeup... it was all like a ghillie suit; the perfect camouflage for a trap just waiting to be sprung on unsuspecting prey."
"Huh. And I missed getting to see it for myself," was all Lance could say in response to Kowalski's evaluation. "Seven years of service with the Royal Guard, and the first private detail anypony learns about the stallion is that he's into cross dressing. Who would've thought?"
Kowalski merely gave a full-body shudder, before immediately turning the shower back on and resumed with his scrubbing once again.
A twinge ran through Doily's right wing as she trotted along, making her wish that she could retract them and tuck them back at her sides where they belonged. But she couldn't do that just yet.
For reasons that nopony knew for certain, Thunder hadn't shown up for dinner in the palace mess hall at the usual time. Which was unusual for him because he was always punctual at mealtime unless he was pulling a shift. But since he was still on medical leave and didn't have that excuse, it was a mystery.
So if he wasn't coming to dinner, then dinner would be coming to him in the form of a mess tray loaded with food resting on her left wing as she made her way to his quarters. Along with an identical tray on her right so he wouldn't have to eat alone by himself, because that was just depressing.
Finally she arrived at her destination and knocked at the door. She waited for a response, but none came.
Curious, she knocked again, a bit louder this time.
"Thunder? You in there?"
Still no response. More curious, and more than ready to let her wings back down, she tested the knob and found the door was unlocked. So she allowed herself into the room, which took a bit of careful maneuvering to pull off.
"Thunder?" she called again.
Yet again there was no response. Was he simply not here? Maybe she'd missed him and he'd simply attended dinner late?
It was a possibility. The past few days had thrown everypony out of sorts to some extent or another.
"I'll just leave his tray here. No sense hauling it all the way back."
And while she was here, she might as well sit down and enjoy her own dinner.
Moving to the couch, to set the trays down on the coffee table, she nearly tripped over herself at the sight of a fellow maid laying sprawled out on the floor on her back.
... On his back...
It took her a minute -or more- to piece together and finally figure out what she was seeing. And checking under the hem of the skirt to verify the cutie mark of the pony in question.
She hadn't been seeing things wrong. It was definitely Thunder Strike, dressed in a maid's uniform, and utterly passed out.
"What went on here?"
The twinge in her wing finally reminded her of why she was here in the first place, motivating her to set the trays down and finally tuck back in. And now with that done, she could focus more on this other matter.
"Thunder," she spoke up as she gently nudged his side to try and rouse him. "Come on, wake up."
The only response she got was his continued slumber of a minor snort, showing that he was still alive but completely out of it.
On the one hoof, she could simply let him rest, because he probably needed it. But on the other hoof she was extremely curious about these developments, and wanted answers.
"Hey, Thunder, wake up," she called louder and started to shake him more vigorously.
It took time, but her efforts finally paid off as he grunted in response and slowly cracked an eye open to look at her.
"Doily?" he asked slowly, uncertainly, and pausing as he tried to stretch out. "What's... going on?"
"You didn't show up for dinner, so I brought yours so you could eat," she explained. "Do you mind telling me why you're laying on the floor and wearing a dress?"
She stepped back to give him adequate room to sit himself up, as he slowly climbed up to sit on his haunches and look at her.
"Could you repeat the question?" he asked.
"Why're you wearing a dress?" she asked again.
He yawned as he slowly looked down at his frame as if he were trying to register what she was saying for himself.
"I guess I fell asleep before I could change out of it," he surmised.
"Okay?" But why were you wearing a dress in the first place?" she asked again. "I mean, I'm not trying to be nosy or anything; it's not like you have to explain anything to me, I'm just really curious. This is... not what I was expecting."
"I was helping some of the maids with their duties today, since I wasn't fit to return to my own duties as a Royal Guard," he explained simply. "Since I was helping with maid duties, some of them thought that I should look the part. And I didn't really see any point in arguing with them, since they know better about their work than I would."
"Oh," she replied, not certain what to do with that information. And also curious why such a development hadn't made its way through the palace grapevine to her at the time. "Well, thank you for thinking about us like that."
"I don't think that I'll be able to do it a second time, however. I never anticipated just how physically demanding being a maid would actually be. It's far more labor-intensive than being a Guard," he stated.
Doily found herself smiling at the compliment found in his words. How many stallions whose job essentially required them putting their life on the line, would actually say something like that about a little cleaning?
Granted, he could be feeling that way simply because of his physical condition, but it was still nice to hear.
"Well, be that as it may, how about dinner? You look like you could use it."
The only response she got was a weak nod as he stood up again, doing his best to not tremble under the strain of supporting his own weight. She wanted to frown, idly wondering just what he'd gone through. But questions like that would interfere with eating and she was hungry.
Fortunately he made it to the couch without issue. She passed him his tray, before taking hold of her own and sitting down on the opposite end to dig in.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him watching her in a rather curious fashion; like he was trying to discern not only what she was doing, but what he should be doing himself. He kept looking over at her, and down at his tray on his lap in confusion, before finally digging in awkwardly. It was almost like he... didn't actually know how to eat outside of a mess hall setting or something.
Holly's assessment from last night was starting to look more credible as the evening went along.
They ate in a companionable silence, all the while a lot of questions brewed in her mind that wanted to be asked. What maids had he worked with? What sort of assignment had they stuck him with that left him so tired? Who had done his makeup? The last one especially, because she really doubted he'd done it himself!
But they could wait for later. Food now, inquiry later, rest after that. Provided nothing had changed between this morning and now.
"So..." she started slowly as she watched him down a radish in a single bite. "Are we still good for tonight? For me staying over the night, like we discussed?"
Thunder looked back at her, before nodding in response, as he currently had his mouth too full to talk.
"Okay, good," she replied, "what say after you eat, I help you get your makeup off? It's not the easiest thing to get off of white fur if a pony doesn't know what they're doing."
"It isn't?" he asked, genuinely surprised and confused by the statement. "Best to trust in the experts, then."
She was hardly an expert. But right now it wasn't worth getting into the petty, nitty gritty details like that. If he thought that he could trust her her, who was she to tell him otherwise?
The rest of the meal passed in companionable silence, it being broken up only by the sounds of their respective chewing as they ate together.
Once the meal had finally concluded, it was time to get started on the next part of the evening.
"Alright. If you could stand up, please."
Getting Thunder undressed had been an easy enough task to perform, if a little bit awkward. Getting his makeup off without working it deeper into his fur and staining it had taken a bit more effort to perform, but had been done all the same.
"So whose uniform is this, anyway?" she asked as she regarded the garment currently draped over the couch
"I'm not really sure. I think it was just a spare that was kept on hoof in storage?" Thunder replied uncertainly.
"Maybe," she replied and shrugged. It wasn't exactly like their uniforms were custom-tailored to their frames for maximum fit, so it was anypony's guess. "Anyway, I'll get it to the laundry when I take the trays back to the kitchen."
"I can help with that," he offered as he silently stood himself up straighter.
"Oh no you don't, your service as a maid is done," she giggled and shook her head. "I appreciate the offer, but you look like even standing up is a bit much for you right now. You don't need to be running around, doing our work for us. You've already done plenty as is."
"It still doesn't feel like I've done enough," he admitted reluctantly. "I feel... useless. Like I'm just standing in place and watching on while other ponies around me move from one task to another, doing work that I could be doing myself. Like I'm a... union hire."
Doily wanted to groan and facehoof, but she resisted the urge to follow through with such a gesture.
"Thunder," she started, but paused as she tried to think of what to say. "What would it take, for you to feel like you've done enough work? What would you have to do, to feel like you've earned taking some time off for yourself?"
He didn't immediately answer. And going by the look on his face, she didn't know if he even knew how to answer. It was like she'd just presented him with such a wildly random concept, that his brain had no way of processing it. In a different context it might look cute, but not right now.
"I... don't know..." he eventually admitted slowly. And after a long pause, he continued. "I spent most of my life dreaming about being in the Royal Guard. I never actually stopped to think about... about what might happen after that."
Doily winced, finding his answer painful to hear. This time she really couldn't resist the urge to sigh in response. Stuff like this was why she'd dropped out of her psychology class back in school; it was just too heavy for her to work with. Whatever help Thunder needed, it was well above her pay grade. All that she could really do was be a friend to him right now.
So with that in mind, she did the one thing that she really could do under the circumstances. That being walk over to him, and pull him into a hug, both with forelegs around his neck, and with wings unfurled to drape onto his back.
The fact that he slowly returned the hug by wrapping a foreleg around the back of her neck was a lot more than she'd been expecting out of him. This morning he'd been like a statue in this situation, completely unresponsive to the gesture. So at least it was something.
"Alright," she spoke up, "I'll go ahead and take these things back to where they belong. Then I'm going to swing by my quarters and pick up a book I've been reading before I come back here; it's still a little too early for me to turn in, but you can go ahead and rest if you want. And don't let me catch you sleeping on the floor again when I come back. Understand?"
He nodded as he slowly released her, allowing them to untangle and disengage.
"Good," she replied and nodded. "See you soon."