"You won't believe who I ran into last night."
It was a given fact that ponies were a very social species. That was simply a scientifically proven and immutable fact of the world, in the same vein as fire being hot, water being wet, milk chocolate being the most delicious, and Joe having the best raspberry jelly doughnuts to be found in the city of Canterlot.
"You want to know what I heard?"
It was also a given fact that with a sizable enough gathering of ponies, small talk would eventually be made, and this would inevitably lead to gossip being traded back and forth at any given moment of opportunity to hash over who had heard what, with information and rumors to varying degrees of legitimacy being swapped like the common cold.
"They didn't even have the decency to look for a private room first! They were snogging right there in the hallway like animals! Can you believe it?"
And it was a given fact, that location made almost no discernible difference on whether or not the first two facts were in play on any given day. Chatter was going to be chattered, whether it be the quiet streets of Ponyville, or within the palace walls; as it was unfolding currently as ponies traded talk like it was black market goods and currency.
"I heard it from the senior groundskeeper himself. He has it on good authority from the night shift's cook that the guy was actually asleep right on the library floor, book resting on his face and everything."
It was this same black market of illicit gossip being traded in between work being done, that Doily trudged her way into with a bit less pep in her step than usual as she made her way to her duty assignment. Her ears had been flicking back and forth, picking up a whispered sentence here, and a part of a conversation there, but never enough to make out exactly what anypony was saying.
And right now, she was just fine with that. Her work, while tedious and boring to some, was routine and gave her something she could focus on. Dust. Wipe. Polish. All simple enough to perform, all very routine in structure, all requiring her paying attention to do right. For two long hours, she wasn't required to think about anything except the work that was right in front of her.
"Hey Doily."
Up until she became aware of the presence of another in the area and addressing her.
"Hey Steam Clean," she grunted in response, not even pausing in her dusting to address the other pony directly.
"I heard something very interesting this morning," Steam stated, her voice practically conveying a grin as she spoke. "One of the guards is a transvestite."
"So they belong to one of those new goofy religions that pops up. So what?" she asked, far more interested in getting the light fixture before her cleaned, than where this discussion might've been going from its start.
"No, it's not like that; one of the guards wears a dress," Steam clarified.
"Steam, like, a quarter of the guards here are mares. On top of that, this is Canterlot where ponies normally wear clothes. I'd be more surprised if they didn't wear a dress from time to time."
"I don't think you're getting me, Doily. It's not one of the mares, it's one of the stallions. One of the guys here is wearing a dress and going around looking like a pretty mare," Steam stated.
Doily's attention slowly diverted from the task in front of her as she listened to Steam talking.
"Oh yeah?" she asked. "By chance did you... happen to hear which guard it was that's... looking pretty?"
"Oh you bet I did," Steam replied, "Lieutenant Strike."
Doily couldn't exactly pause her wing flaps in response to this statement and still remain aloft. So instead she simply paused her efforts at dusting, as she tried to focus and listen closer to where this whole thing might've been going.
"I heard he finally cracked under all the pressure and was found wearing makeup and parading around-"
The discussion was halted as Doily stopped flapping her wings, dropping herself down to floor level with a thud of a landing to silence the gray-coated mare with the Fleur de Lis-shaped body before another syllable could be uttered.
"For your information, the reason Thunder was in a dress was because he was wearing a maid's uniform," she stated.
Steam Clean hesitantly took a step back in response to the sudden assertiveness being demonstrated before her.
"And do you know why Thunder was in a maid's uniform in the first place?" Doily asked, before continuing without first waiting for her to answer. "Because he'd volunteered to help us maids do our work, and some of them got the bright idea to dress him for the part."
Steam wanted to speak up, but couldn't get a word in edge-wise as Doily continued.
"And why was he helping us out with our work? Because that chronic workaholic of a stallion couldn't do his own job. And rather than lounge around on his medical leave like some would, he opted to make himself useful to somepony else instead. He spent the better part of the day running himself into the ground trying to help us out, even though he wasn't physically up to it.
"So I'd appreciate it, if you didn't go around spreading inappropriate rumors about Thunder like that. You got that?"
"Y... y-yeah. Sure," Steam replied slowly, dumbfounded by the sheer assertiveness she was witnessing. "Do you mind if I ask you something, though? You never used to act like this before when it came to gossip; you enjoyed it as much as anypony. But now you're being defensive all of the sudden. What changed?"
"... What changed is that I actually got to know him, and make friends with him, Steam," Doily explained with a soft sigh as she adjusted her glasses. "Thunder's not just some random name that's attached to a muscly body with a cute butt, you know? He's a pony; a very nice, caring stallion who just wants to do his job and help others. He's..." she paused, trying to think of what to say to explain what she'd seen.
"Ohh..." Steam replied slowly, the tone of the word suggesting that she understood. "Okay, I get you. You two're banging, and you don't want anypony talking bad about him."
Doily's immediate impulse was to sputter in surprise and loudly deny the accusation for all it was worth. But she managed to resist the impulse, and opted for a calmer, more civilized route.
"We're not sleeping together, Steam. We're just friends..."
"Uh-huh..." Steam replied, not sounding the least bit convinced. "Friends with benefits, from the sound of it."
"No," Doily replied, perhaps a bit more forcefully than she should've. "It's... not like that."
"Oh no? Well then what's "it" like?" Steam asked.
A sensation working its way up her spine, was suggesting that she'd said far more than she should've in the first place.
She blamed Steam Clean for this entire predicament. Amongst the many ponies serving as the cleaning staff of the palace, she was something of an outlier. While on duty she could be every bit as proper as the rest of them when it came to doing her job.
While simultaneously being crass, and not the least bit shy about knocking back beers and belching with the rowdiest of stallions who worked there during her off-hours. It was all very off-putting.
"Thunder and I are just friends," she repeated again. "I'm just helping him work through a few issues he's having right now, that's all."
"Issues?" Steam asked curiously. "Like what?"
Doily hesitated, weighing whether or not she wanted to get into this discussion. It could really go either way if she ended up saying the wrong thing, and she knew that fact full well.
"Thunder didn't give me the okay to tell anypony about this, so you can't either, alright? What I'm about to tell you, doesn't go any further than the two of us? You got that?"
Left unsaid was the fact that Thunder hadn't told her not to tell anypony. But that was just splitting hairs.
Curious and confused, Steam nodded and leaned in to listen/hear better.
"Like I said, we're not sleeping together; not in the sense you're thinking of. But we are sharing a room together," she admitted.
"Oh?" Steam asked.
She nodded. "Princess Celestia thought it was best to move him to some private quarters while he's on medical leave; somewhere away from his fellow guards so he can focus on his recovery rather than worrying about his work. But like I said, he's got issues. He apparently can't sleep in a room all by himself because it's too quiet; he's too accustomed to the sounds of other ponies being around. So I've been crashing there with him for a couple of nights, keeping him company and providing background noise so he can rest."
"Huh," Steam replied in an uncertain tone. "So how did you get saddled with... what would you call it... being a foalsitter and a white noise machine?"
"I was simply available at the time of being asked," Doily explained. Left unsaid was that it'd been Holly who'd done the asking, but that wasn't important right now. "If it hadn't been me, somepony else would've been asked instead."
"How charming," Steam commented sarcastically. "He certainly sounds like the type who knows how to make a mare feel special."
Doily frowned in response to the snide comment, ready to go into explaining how Thunder had opted to sleep on the floor so she and Doily could be comfortable on the bed and couch, but stopped just short of actually doing that. There was no need to go into that right now, even if it would shut her up.
"The first night was a simple matter of convenience and availability; he needed somepony, I just happened to be available. The night after that, however, was my own choice, because I got to know him and found out he's a very nice stallion. I even got to be friends with him," she explained. "We spent a good portion of the night sitting up and just talking to one another."
"Oh? And what sort of grand boisterous tales did he happen to regale you with, by chance? Adventure? Danger? Something to try and charm you with?" Steam asked.
"Well if you really must know," Doily started, before signaling for her to come closer, letting her lean in to whisper her answer. "He uses sea serpent wax to maintain the luster of his armor."
Steam pulled back, looking at her in confusion. "Say what now?"
"Yeah. Thunder really wasn't all that big on talking about himself. His armor maintenance was pretty much all that I got out of him," Doily explained. "He was too busy being captivated as I regaled him with stories of what it was like growing up, to share anything about himself. He was pretty much content to just sit quietly and listen while I talked. The only time he really spoke up was to ask the occasional question. It was... kind of nice, actually, him being interested like he was, in hearing such boring stuff."
"You don't say," Steam replied with a bit of a smile playing on her lips. "So what sort of stuff had him so utterly fascinated?"
"Like I said, what it was like growing up," Doily stated and shrugged. "What my friends were like, what was school like, what we'd do for fun, etc. All the while he's just sitting there, looking like he's hanging onto every word and paying full attention to what I have to say; like it's the most interesting thing he's ever heard before in his life."
"And you didn't find that the least bit... creepy? Stalker-y? To have him so fascinated by stories about you growing up? And asking questions like that?" Steam asked.
The urge to frown returned again. But Doily resisted the urge and continued. She knew better. She knew for herself. Steam didn't have a clue what the context was, nor did she need to know it.
"Not at all," she replied and shook her head.
The only discomfort she actually had felt during their late-night talk, had stemmed from the sense that she was flaunting her good fortune by making him aware of what he didn't have while growing up; like she was one of those spoiled brats who taunted orphans for their own amusement.
But he had assured her that wasn't the case. Not so much with words, but the look on his face as he listened to her talk about such trivial things like which brand of cookie had the most chocolate chips, and bandaids that came in colors other than tan, and games of hide-and-seek with other foals who actually tried to find you. He had wanted to hear more about things he hadn't experienced for himself.
He'd had very little to offer up in exchange. And what little he had divulged during their conversation had tended to be about anything but himself. The orphans he'd grown up with at the orphanage, the recruits he'd trained with at the academy, and even the royal guards he served with at the palace, but nothing relating to himself even in a general sense.
In the end that was more or less why she'd done most of the talking last night, indulging his apparent interest by telling him about her experiences of moving from orphan to adopted and just how different it'd all been, until it was late in the evening and neither one of them was really up to staying awake any longer.
"He's a very nice stallion. He just... has a few issues he needs help with," she concluded.
"... And you're going to help him?" Steam asked.
Doily quickly shook her head in response. She knew that she was in no way qualified to be providing Thunder with the sort of help that he needed. And there was no shame in admitting to that fact.
"He's a pony whose whole life seemingly revolves around his work. I'm going to help him by being his friend, which is something he needs more than anything right now."
She had ultimately washed out of her psych classes when she was younger, because she was simply unable to deal with and persevere through the resulting psychological stress that such studies brought. But even she understood just how powerful having a friend could be.
And going by the way he talked and conducted himself, she honestly wouldn't be surprised to learn that she was the only friend he really had. Although she genuinely hoped that wasn't actually the case.
Without another word, Steam Clean slowly turned around and walked off.
"W... where're you going?" Doily asked, not seeing this development coming.
"I've got work to do," she called as she departed. "And if Thunder needs a friend, then I'm gonna be a friend. I'm gonna see if I can quash that rumor before somepony gets the bright idea to get him a pair of high-heels to wear."