//------------------------------// // Chapter 3 // Story: A fire in his heart // by basalisk120 //------------------------------// “Alright ponies, let’s take a break,” Spitfire said, alighting as gracefully as she could on the nearest cloud. “In fact, we might as well call it a day. There aren’t enough of us to work anything out, anyway.” What she didn’t like to admit, however, was that she was also pretty worn out, having gotten rather less sleep than she would have liked. She could see it in the others too. Most of them had only turned up out of a sense of duty, and were practically asleep on the wing by this point. She sighed softly as she watched them go. Maybe she had been a touch hard on them the morning after a show. But she was preoccupied. This stupid Soarin business had invaded her mind every single time she tried to put it to anything useful. To say the least, it was irritating. Not to mention the fact that it was giving her some strange ideas. She wasn’t really all that lonely, and she certainly didn’t need somepony like Soarin around her all the damn time. With his damn chirpy optimism, his stupid blue coat, his desire to always help out… His strong, athletic body, close to- She shook her head. Dammit Spit, stop it. You’re just disorientated from all this weird stuff going on. I mean, you don’t even know for certain that he likes you! Fleetfoot could be wrong, and you’re probably just paranoid. I mean, he’s gonna be pretty messed up this morning, and why would he turn up to practice if he remembered? She kept watching them absent mindedly as they left, still lost in her internal debate. But as Soarin passed her by, he caught her attention and broke her concentration. I have to make sure. She trotted to the edge of the cloud, watching Soarin as he drifted slowly away from her. “Hey, Soarin? Fancy getting a bite to eat with me?” Wait, what? That sounds awful! Quick, say something else! “I need a hoof repaying Firestreak, and you fit the bill.” The blue colt looked back at her with a slightly confused expression, and he clearly wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed. “Oh, uh, sure, Spitfire…” He said, his voice displaying the faintest hint of nervousness. Saved it. “Come on, don’t be scared. Your choice, okay?” She said, smirking slightly. The old Spitfire was back with a passion. Soarin gave her a smile of his own, a much more genuine one. At least he was starting to relax. “In that case, I think I’m in the mood for something spicy… Chilli, perhaps? I know a really good place in the city…” Spitfire groaned. “Soarin, you know I hate hot food…” “Hey, you said it was my choice?” “Sometimes, Soarin…” She growled, still smiling. “Alright, lead the way, but you’d better help me out here.” “Well, I never said I could…” Soarin said evasively, looking away from her and smiling. Spitfire gave him her most magnificent glower, taking a step forward. “B-but I’ll see what I can do, okay?” He said quickly, flapping further away from her. She smiled with some semblance of sweetness, (She was not a ‘sweet’ pony on the whole) and leapt off the edge of the cloud, taking to the air with practiced perfection. He dipped in the sky, swooping underneath her as she banked left, ending up on her right and slightly behind her. She flashed the hung-over stallion a small grin, before closing her wings and diving downwards. The cold wind streamed past her, whipping through her loose mane and tail and roaring in her ears. But her goggles kept her eyes safe, and she was able to focus perfectly on the approaching city below them. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Soarin slowly catching up with her, grinning like an idiot. Which he was, most of the time. She waited until the last second, when she could make out every individual tile on the rooftops below her, still rocketing downward. Behind her, she heard Soarin slowing down, levelling out. Her daredevil attitude kept her going just a split-second longer than him, and she snapped her wings open at the last possible moment, her forehooves scraping the terracotta uncomfortably as she did so. She turned her wings against the air, massively increasing her drag as she bled out her speed rapidly. She could feel Soarin as he hit the brakes as well, descending into the streets below. Their wings aching after the day’s activities, they slowly drifted down to the ancient paved roads that were the rivers of the bustling city, keeping everything alive and working at all hours of the day. Many ponies claimed that their city was the one ‘that never sleeps’, but in Spitfire’s experience, Canterlot was the only city where somepony always had at least something to do. If you lived in Canterlot, and you weren’t a dignitary or aristocrat, you could look forward to a lot of work for the rest of your life. She was lucky to be considered a somepony in the city, her flight suit gave her that much. But she didn’t really feel like much of a somepony, and she never really acted like she thought one might act. She alighted, pausing and turning to Soarin. “Alright, so where’s this place? I want to get this over and done with.” “Oh, it’s just down the road from the train station! It’s a great place, you know. We ate there for my birthday, remember?” He was smiling much more now, and the bags under his eyes had diminished a little. Apparently, the drop had done him some good. At the very least, she felt a little better. Spitfire made a face. Of course she remembered. How could she forget the time that Soarin and Lightning streak got drunk and challenged each other to a chilli eating contest? (Soarin was competitive when he was drunk.) Soarin spent six hours cramming ice cubes in his mouth, and they had to take Lightning streak to the hospital when his throat started to bleed. You could have used their sweat instead of hot sauce. “By Celestia, not there…” She groaned. “Come on, why not?” “Didn’t they ban you from that place? You melted all their ice…” She said desperately. “I paid a lot of money for all that chilli, and I’m inclined to do it again someday. They’d be silly to ban me.” He stated matter-of-factly. “Not when I’m there, you ain’t…” Spitfire growled as they started to head toward the outskirts of the town, where the train station was built. Soarin ignored her. “Besides, I’m celebrity endorsement. Gotta count for something.” That one surprised her a little. It was unexpected for him to say something that sensible and intelligent, and it might have fooled her into thinking he had vague political and economic understanding, had he not said it in the way that ponies say things when they have had it explained to them, but they still had no idea what it was, and only really understood the context in which it was supposed to be used. “Endorsement? My, Soarin, that’s a big word. What does it mean?” She said sarcastically, smirking. “W-well, it… uhh…” He blushed as he looked up into the air, trying to think. Spitfire sniggered, and he looked back at her indignantly. “Oh, shut up…” He looked away, apparently in a huff. She cuffed him lightly in the shoulder. “Cheer up, Soar. We all know you’re not good with big words anyway…” She laughed, and Soarin gave her a small smile. That was another weird thing about Soarin – no matter what she said to him, or how many times she punched him, he always came smiling back. Before, it had been a little annoying, but now she understood why, it was kinda adorable. Like one of those puppies that never seem to understand when they’ve been told off. Like a puppy, it was easier to grow a horn or sprout wings than it was to stay mad at him. The rest of the journey took place largely without incident, and before long, they found themselves standing outside the world-famous chilli bar. Famous largely because it was the only eatery to hospitalise a celebrity in the last thirty years, provided you forgot about the infamous con-pony Dirty Money and the half rotten hay fries incident that almost claimed the life of Sapphire shores. As the pair stood outside the establishment, the usual public attention started to increase. She was well used to the usual looks and murmurs as she passed by now, but a crowd was starting to gather. A young mare, slightly younger than Spitfire, darted out of the throng and galloped to a halt in front of Soarin. “H-hello, mr Soarin!” She squeaked, clearly in awe just to be standing in his presence. “A-are you here to take on the spice again?” “Well, I don’t know…” Soarin said, giving a small smile. He paused just long enough for the crowd to draw a breath. Spitfire rolled her eyes. They were here just to watch some blue half-wit try to stuff his face with poison? It was laughable, really. “We’ll just have to see how it goes, I guess…” He finished after what he felt was a suitably long pause. The fan-mare’s eyes sparkled, and she gasped. “A-are you going to try and set a new record?” “What? No, I’m only interested in a little informal lunch…” He said, the smile not leaving his face. The crowd sighed forlornly, and Soarin’s smile stretched into a full grin. “But hey, you never know…” Spitfire shook her head, trying not to laugh. He didn’t play the audience this much when he was at work, for Celestia’s sake. “Come on, Soar,” She said, just loud enough for the crowd to hear and to shatter his train of thought. “Do you actually want to go inside and eat, or is this place going to be closed before you even step inside?” He coughed quietly, his show of bravado somewhat lessened. “Oh, alright…” The young mare, a unicorn, gave her the sort of look that might really get to somepony if they hadn’t received a similar one from almost everypony they knew. It wasn’t a friendly look in the least, and Spitfire would have liked to imagine that it caused her eyebrows to burn and her goggles to shatter. Put shortly, she didn’t think that this Soarin fan liked her particularly. “A-are you two on a date?” She asked, with just that tiny hint of malice that’s totally untraceable to colts, especially one so oblivious as Soarin, but biting and accusing to mares. “Oh, umm… No, it’s not anything like that…” Soarin mumbled, his cheeks reddening slightly. “W-what? No!” Spitfire interjected, glaring more fiercely than she would have expected. To her growing horror, she could feel her own face heating up as well. “Come on, let’s just get this over with…” She grumbled, heading for the restaurant, with or without Soarin. She heard Soarin fluster behind her as he tried to catch up with her. He slowed as he drew level with her, noting her smouldering expression. This was pretty unusual for Soarin, who frequently had trouble working out his own emotions, let alone that of somepony else, and especially not a mare. “Hey, you okay? You know they aren’t serious, right?” He said, actually looking concerned. All things considered, this shouldn’t have been surprising. “Wh-what? Of course I know that, Soar.” She said, her expression softening. “Well then, what’s the problem?” He asked, his face a clear image of innocence and sincerity. “It’s… Well… It’s…” She spluttered, reaching the door and resting one forehoof against it. “It’s what?” He pressed, cocking her head to one side. “It’s… Well, we’re not dating!” she said vehemently. Still, it sounded like a pretty feeble argument now she said it. Why was she so angry about this? She didn’t get angry when the press decided she was dating a number of wonderbolts, actually going so far as to somehow use the time she punched Lightning streak in the face as proof. Sometimes, being a celebrity was pretty unpleasant. “Well, okay, Spitfire. I just don’t think it’s a problem…” He said, looking away as Spitfire pushed open the door, causing a bell held above the door to tinkle. “You’re right, I guess…” She muttered. She hated being outsmarted by the big blue dimwit, and it was happening alarmingly frequently. “Besides, I don’t know why you don’t like a bit of spice,” He said, bulldozing any traces of their previous conversation with pure blithe ignorance. “You’re name’s Spitfire, after all.” “I’m named after the famous REA pegasus during the griffon wars, Soarin.” She said, with some degree of pride. “Not after hot food. If I was, I’d be called wasabi or something.” She said flatly, looking around for an empty table. The restaurant had large front windows that kept the place quite bright and well lit, and the whole place was very colourful. The floors and counters were white, whereas the tabletops were all red, and the walls were papered with a red and white diamond checked pattern. As was the case with all chilli-themed eateries, the whole place was festooned with peppers in one way or another. It was like some unspoken tool of the trade, like that weird red and white pole at a barber’s or something. “Well, you wouldn’t be called wasabi, then.” Soarin said, failing to notice how the statement was both rhetorical and supposed to be a joke. “Wasabi’s a condiment, like ponyraddish.” “Habanero, then.” She growled, before noticing that all eyes were on them. She wished that she’d taken off the flight suit now – At the very least, it would mean that she’d get an extra few seconds of anonymity when she entered a room. Suddenly, there was a thundering of hooves, and a short fat stallion wearing an apron burst out through the door to the kitchen, smiling broadly. He galloped forward, his huge bald spot shining in the sunlight. “Mi amigo!” He cried, throwing his forelegs out. “It is so good to see you again!” Soarin grinned widely in return. “Not as good as it feels to be back here, old friend!” The owner laughed a hearty laugh, dropping back to all four legs and motioning them to follow. “Take a seat, take a seat!” He said, the sheer volume of his voice fooling the unobservant eye to think that he was a much larger pony than he actually was. In fact, Spitfire could see over his polished head without a great deal of trouble as he dragged them to a window seat. “Here with a date, eh?” He laughed in what was probably intended to be a cheerful, conspiratorial manner, but with his loud voice and peculiar, almost exaggerated mexicane accent, it just made him sound disturbing, at least in the bright yellow mare’s ears. Still, she could feel her face beginning to redden again, and she scowled, staring at the table. Soarin, once again to Spitfire’s surprise, immediately noticed and chuckled nervously. “N-not quite, man. She just needs some help getting a present for a friend…” “Oh, of course!” He winked in an extremely obvious manner, and Spitfire suppressed the urge to punch the moustache straight off his face. “What can I get you two friends, then?” It was that exact moment that Spitfire decided that she really didn’t like this little old stallion at all, and it was only common courtesy that was keeping her there. “Oh, I’ll just have the usual,” Soarin said with a smile. The owner however raised an eyebrow. “Of course, it’s a good idea for me to tell you that Miss Ghost chilli is working in the kitchen this afternoon?” Soarin’s eyes lit up. “Well, in that case, I’ll have to go all the way to eleven!” He said with his signature goofy grin. “Excellent!” The stallion roared in response. “I’ll just have the mildest thing on the menu.” Spitfire said simply, resting her forehooves on the table. “Are you sure?” He said, raising his eyebrow yet higher. If it got any higher than that, it might actually leave his face. “Because I-” “Yes, I’m sure, thank you.” She replied quickly, cutting off his sentence midflow. The balding stallion frowned slightly, but nodded and trotted off, back to the kitchen. “Would it kill you to be a touch more cheerful?” Soarin said, but not unkindly. “He was just trying to make a joke…” “Yeah, I know…” She sighed, softly. Once again, Soarin was right. Being so simple put him on the sort of moral high ground that was pretty hard to top. “It’s just… There’s a lot of things going on in my head right now, and-” “Really? Like what?” Soarin said suddenly, his eyes slightly wider. Aw, piss. She thought. It had just slipped out. Quick, make something up! “Oh, you know. Various things…” She said vaguely, still buying as much time as she could. “After all, being the wonderbolt captain is a lot more work than you might think…” “It is? I’ve never seen you doing anything anypony would consider as work…” He said sceptically. But Spitfire was in full lie mode, now, and there was no stopping her. “Well, of course not! I don’t want you guys to think I’m under any pressure…” “You keep it a secret just so we don’t worry?” He sounded incredulous, but Spitfire could tell that he believed her. “Sure I do. Do you think it’s easy, booking shows and whatnot?” This was an easy lie. Soarin had never had a real job. “N-not really, no…” He said quietly. “Anyways, who’s this Ghost chilli?” She said quickly, to change the subject and keep the indigo maned stallion from asking any difficult questions. “Oh, Ghost chilli? She’s the most incredible chilli chef of all time. Lightning has a massive crush on her. It’s how I found out about the place to start off with! Anyway, if she’s there, you can be guaranteed the highest quality chilli anywhere in Equestria…” He said, trailing off slowly. “She’s pretty quiet, but I think you’d like her.” “She’s named after the hottest food on the planet, and she cooks chilli for a living. I’m sure we’d get on like a house on fire…” She said, preparing the perfect moment for her punchline. “Oh, that’s gre-” “There may be no survivors.” Bam. “Ouch,” He said, laughing. “That’s a little harsh. You like me though, and I’m unbearable! So I’m sure you’d like her…” “Me? Liking you? That’s under a lot of debate right now…” She said, raising an eyebrow and smiling, making absolutely sure he took it as a joke. “Aw, come on… You’re taking me out to lunch and everything…” “So?” She smiled mischievously, her cheeks dusted with just the lightest shade of pink. “Hey, don’t be mean, Spitfire… Gimmie a straight answer, here. I mean, if you don’t-” For the third time since they arrived, somepony was interrupted mid-sentence. However, this time, it wasn’t anything verbal, it was the sudden appearance of a certain mare, that by all accounts, could not have fitted the name ‘Ghost chilli’ better. She was an earth pony, and a deep, dark grey, so dark in fact, that her fairly dark mane was only a touch darker, and was flecked by so many tiny pinpoints of lighter greys that it actually looked paler than her coat sometimes. In fact, she was the sort of pony that you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley simply because you wouldn’t be able to see her. Her eyes were a deep purple, and her mane was tied back in a bun to keep it away from the food. Without this, it looked like it would be just longer than shoulder length. It surprised her that this was Lightning streak’s kind of mare, but she wasn’t unattractive by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, if they were alone, and in a different restaurant, she would have considered asking Ghost chilli to join her. She gave them their plates, deftly sliding them off her back and onto her forehooves one by one, placing them in front of them. “Hey, uh, thanks.” Spitfire mumbled, still a little confused about how the waitress/chef had managed to sneak up on them so easily. “You’re welcome…” She replied, her soft, almost velvety voice barely a whisper in the packed eatery. “Thanks, Ghost chilli! I can’t wait to have a little of this!” Soarin beamed at her, and she returned with a small smile. “Why, thank you, Mr Soarin. I do hope you two like it…” And with that, she trotted away, her tail swishing happily and swaying ever so slightly like Stalliongradi ponies did when they walked. The pair of them coughed, realising at the same time that they had been watching her leave. “A-anyway,” Spitfire said, a little louder than she had intended, trying to push the image of Ghost chilli’s swaying rump out of her head. Just because she was having a pretty confusing time with her love life, didn’t mean she wasn’t allowed to acknowledge an attractive mare. “She a friend of yours too?” “What?” Soarin said, snapping back to reality. “Oh, no, she’s not. I just know who she is ‘cos I’m a regular.” That was typical Soarin all over, really. Friendly to anypony and everypony he came across. He’d probably try and befriend a mugger as he passed a knife between his ribs. Then why the hay does he like you? You’re nothing like that. Can you remember the last time you were actually friendly toward a stranger? The last time you spent time with somepony and you weren’t sarcastic? That bit her, especially as it was her subconscious. Man, I’m an asshole… “Hey Spit, you okay there?” Soarin asked, shattering her shining epiphany. “You’ve not touched your chilli…” “Hmm?” She said, poking at the steaming food. “Oh, sorry. Just got a lot on my mind, you know?” “Yeah, I understand…” Soarin said, who had probably never had a lot on his mind. “Wonderbolt stuff?” “Well, that… And other stuff…” Spitfire mumbled, picking at the chilli with disinterest. She was hungry, but the meal before her was about as appealing as frogspawn. For the sake of being polite, and to appease her stomach before it started growling, (Something she considered a little unattractive.) she took a spoonful of chilli and put it into her mouth. From her extremely limited perspective, she could tell that the softly-spoken mare was indeed a good chef. Instead of the chilli simply being painful and unpleasant, it actually had some flavour, but despite its mildness, it was still pretty painful as it burned its way down her throat. She glanced up at Soarin, who had already begun to sweat. She set down the spoon and frowned at him. “How are you enjoying this? It looks like you’re having a horrible time…” “Wh-what?” He said, his voice oddly distorted by the sheer heat of the food. “No, I’m fine!” “Well, that’s debateable. If you’re eating that, you’re clearly mentally ill.” There you go again, Spitfire. That colt said he loved you last night, and now you’re saying he’s got brain damage. Good job…Oh, come on. She retorted mentally, taking another pained bite. It’s not my fault, you know. It’s how I was brought up. Hey, some things are about parents, and some ponies are just assholes. She practically shovelled the horrible, lava-flavoured food into her mouth, drowning out her guilt with sheer pain. After a while, she could make out, through water-filled eyes, that Soarin was staring at her with some degree of respect. “Wamf?” She asked, the word sending a wave of fire back into her mouth and forcing her to wince. “Well, I thought you said you didn’t like the stuff,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “and here you are, shovelling the stuff down!” She swallowed, closing her eyes and allowing a single tear drop to trickle down her left cheek. “Like it? I hate this stuff, Soarin… I’m getting it out of the way as fast as I can so we can leave.” “Whoa, alright…” Soarin said, smiling. Apparently, he didn’t much believe her. “I was just hoping we’d finally have something in common, is all.” Spitfire snorted. “Aside from, you know, being Wonderbolts?” “Well, that’s… That’s a job, isn’t it?” “Doesh it feel like one?” She said, packing another spoonful of chilli into her mouth. “Well… Come to think of it, I don’t think that many jobs have this much flexibility…” Soarin said, somehow ignoring a bead of burning sweat running down his forehead and around his eyes, onto his muzzle. “And how many times do you expect to have lunch with your boss?” She replied, trying to smile. After a second or two though, the burning in her cheeks forced her to stop. If Soarin had noticed, he ignored it. He probably understood. Understanding. That was something Soarin was good at too. She never really asked for it, but she loved it when somepony actually put in the time and effort to understand her. And even when he didn’t understand her, he either tried, or gave her the space she needed to work things out. Another thing you like about him Spitfire? Are you sure you don’t like him? She sighed miserably, desperate to change the subject. “I shtill don’t understand how you like this, hun. You do realise it’s literally poison or something…” “I dunno, really. I guess… I guess I’ve always liked to taste a bit of f-fire…” Until that point, Soarin had been sitting fairly relaxed, his face a little red and sweaty but otherwise calm despite the fury in his throat. However, the moment the words escaped his lips, he seemed to realise something, and his eyes went wide, and one hoof went to his lips. He coughed awkwardly. Spitfire, who knew exactly what he had just realised, decided to alleviate the tension by completely ignoring it. After all, she knew what he wanted, deep down. He told her that himself, and it was getting harder and harder to ignore the signs. “You alright there, hun? Heat starting to get to ya?” She said, flashing him a sarcastic smile. “Oh, I uh…” He paused, giving a nervous chuckle. “I… Just remembered something. I think I’m more tired than I look…” Soarin said slowly, obviously lying. However, he did look exhausted, and Spitfire decided to try a little understanding of her own. “Alright, Soar. After you’re done, let’s call it a day. No point trying any of this when we’re so tired…” “R-really?” Soarin said, looking more relieved than anything else. “But… What about Firestreak?” “Oh, I’ll just get him some fancy wine.” She said dismissively, waving a hoof. “He loves that classy tripe.” Soarin grinned, somehow still resisting the fire building in his mouth and stomach. “You got that right…” He mumbled, stuffing another spoonful into his mouth. “And what about you? Gonna entertain yourself for the day?” He said incredulously. Spitfire wasn’t much good at being alone. “What? Nah, I need my sleep. I think that much is pretty clear…” She knew just how tired she looked without a mirror to help her. She hadn’t exactly looked great before the practice. “What? No, you look great!” Soarin said loudly, leaning forward, before suddenly realising what he had just done, and leapt back, blushing furiously. The yellow mare could feel her own cheeks heating as she stared down at the table politely. If he was going to make an ass of himself, the last thing he needed was an audience. “I-I mean, you look fine, Spitfire…” He said softly, staring at his plate. “F-for somepony who hasn’t been sleeping well, at least…” “Thanks, Soar. You look pretty good yourself… For Soarin.” She gave him a small smile in return, giving him a little of her old sarcasm. Mostly, it was to put the big blue colt at ease, but it worked pretty well on her too. It made everything feel better, really. Somepony annoying you? Sarcasm, whether they noticed or not, makes you feel better. Somepony ask a stupid question? Sarcasm. Somepony accidentally admitting that they find you attractive? Still under research, but it seemed to be working. “Th-thanks, Spitfire.” He said, looking a little more relaxed as he ate another spoonful of chilli. His plate was almost empty now. “Hey, no problem, hun. You know me. I’m many things, but a liar isn’t one of them. Now, when you’re done, you head back to the hotel and I’ll join you in a bit, okay?” “Soarin nodded, swallowing. “Sounds good, but… What about your chilli? You’ve hardly touched it.” “Honestly, I couldn’t eat another bite.” She said truthfully, pushing the plate away. As hungry as she was, she wasn’t about to let any more of that accursed slop down her throat. “Well, okay…” He mumbled, a little downcast. “Hey, I’m the captain. What I say goes, hun. Now chop chop, I want to get out of this hell hole as soon as I can.” “Hey, you can’t say that!” He said, but he started to eat a little quicker. “What if they kick you out?” “Then frankly, it’ll be a relief. You smelled of sweat before we got in here, and now you’re in a room where everypony smells of even more sweat.” “Alright, alright…” He muttered. “And you smell of sweat too…” “Hey. I smell of the best kind of sweat, Soar. Sexy sweat.” The words came out before she even realised, and by which time it was a little too late. The blue colt sitting opposite her blushed a magnificent shade of red, staring adamantly down at the meal before him. Spitfire looked away guiltily as he finished him meal, starting slightly as he got to his hooves. She cleared her throat softly and followed suit, smiling a little. With any luck, those brief moments of silence had cooled him off a little. He returned the smile. Saved it. Together, they trotted back to the counter, and counted up the number of bits needed for the unsatisfactory (In the fiery mare’s mind) meals. It wasn’t very expensive, but Spitfire was sure that she wouldn’t come back unless forced. “Alright, hun. Let’s get going, while we’re still young.” She said, but not unkindly, before Soarin had a chance to befriend the cashier. “R-right, yeah…” He said, and they turned to leave. As they turned, however, she could see Soarin looking down ever so slightly, as if working out how to say something. As she pushed the door open for the thoughtful stallion, she got bored of waiting. “Hey, what’s eating you, Soarin?” She said, with all the subtlety of a punch to the face. Sometimes, that was what a colt needed most. “What? Oh, I was just wondering… How come you always call me ‘hun’ and stuff?” “huh?” Spitfire said with a pause, frowning. “I do that for everypony.” Why wouldn’t she? It’s not like it meant anything. “Do you? I can’t remember you saying it to anypony else when I’m around…” “Don’t be silly, big guy. Of course I say it to-” Did she? Come to think of it, when was the last time she said that to anypony that wasn’t Soarin? She couldn’t really remember. But hey, calling somepony ‘hun’ didn’t exactly mean a great deal, did it? Or does it? After all, he’s everything you look for in- She scowled, drowning out her thoughts as she strode forward again. Next to her, Soarin let out a tiny grunt of surprise, but she quickly trotted quickly to fall back into step with him. After a couple minutes of silent walking, Soarin let out an impressive yawn, the kind of which makes you think your head will split in half. “Sorry Spitfire… But… I’ve gotta get back to the hotel, or I’m gonna curl up on the floor by the side of the road…” He said sadly, stopping. Obviously, he didn’t want to leave her. “Then go to bed, silly.” She said, nudging him. “You need the sleep.” “Thanks, Spitfire… I’ll see you later or something?” It sounded more like a hopeful plea than a question, and the captain of the wonderbolts smiled. “Of course, hun. See you later, okay?” And with that, he trotted away down the busy street, disappearing into the crowd despite his costume as he made a beeline for the hotel. Spitfire watched him go with a glimmer of a smile. He’s really not so bad… I wish I’d paid a little more attention to him sooner. She thought to herself as she headed for the commercial district of the city, where everything that the mind could conceive was bought and sold. Not to mention, he’s hardly a sight for sore eyes from behind, either. She continued to herself, a smile, lightly dusted with pink, crossing her face for a moment. Picking up the pace a little, she continued, pressing on into the crowds. Truth be told, she wanted nothing more than to curl up into her own bed, alone or otherwise. But if she was going to spend the rest of the day alone she was going to need something pretty special. And the sweet apple acres brewing co. had recently introduced a new ‘toffee apple cider’ to the city’s already impressive range of alcohol… 00000000 Hey! I’m back guys! Sorry about the long wait, but at least it’s a long chapter, I suppose. Trying something a little new, which you might have noticed. I’ve changed my writing style somewhat to fit the story (And Spitfire’s abrasive personality) a bit better. Hope you guys liked it! Also, you all have to try toffee apple cider, guys. It’s brilliant stuff. And, if you’re wondering, Ghost chilli is now best pony. Sorry guys.