The jingle of one of the glass clusters hanging from the roof ached in his ears as Gearrick opened his groggy eyes, shutting them again suddenly from the burst of light coming through the enormous window of his bedroom. He briefly, very briefly, entertained thoughts of sitting up before a quick mental run-down of his stomach cautioned him against it.
He just groaned, rubbing his front hooves across his eyes and trying to ignore the headache he had. It was like a pile of pissed off ants were hanging out at the base of his skull. He switched to rubbing his neck, daring to open his eyes again and forcing them to adjust to the light. Small steps in the grand process of hangover recovery, though sitting up was still a few more minutes off at least.
He sighed, trying to piece together his evening. He remembered leaving the bar vividly, but after that it was hard to determine the blackout point. Little flashes of the ride in the Nomad and Twilight driving came back, slowly combining to form some more thorough memories. With at least that bit figured out, he tried his best to recall what had happened after she'd dropped him off.
Vague memories of a warm feeling and a scent he couldn't fully remember gnawed at the periphery of what he was trying to recall. But between nothing solid coming up and the headache driving him mad, he didn't waste any time pondering it. Whatever it was about, it would come back to him eventually. Or not.
"I hate hangovers..." he grumbled to himself, closing his eyes again.
"Me too," came a cheery remark from behind the couch, with a cute laugh tacked on the end.
Gearrick's eyes snapped open, his heart stopped, and time followed suit. By contrast, his mind was racing.
Oh shit... That's a mare's voice...
Dreading what he would see, Gearrick tried to calm down and peeked over the back of the couch. He whipped back around immediately, trying his hardest not to freak out when he finally caught sight of the purple coat and the pink stripe running through the mane.
Oh shit... Twilight didn't go home last night... Alright, calm down Gearrick. You're on the couch, not in the bed. So nothing happened.... Right?
"Glad you're finally awake. You fell back asleep a couple of times, so I decided to just let you get up when you were ready" Twilight said happily, walking around the couch and inching closer to him.
The smile on her face wasn't quite right; nervously happy. Something had definitely happened. Gearrick hadn't kept any secrets from himself about what he thought of Twilight. He'd kind of liked her ever since he'd first laid eyes on her, cliché as it was. Sober Gearrick had too much respect for her to even say anything about those thoughts.
Blacked-out Gearrick had apparently been a bit more bold, which put sober Gearrick in a very difficult situation. Judging by her expression, bold wasn't necessarily a bad thing from Twilight's end, but if things had gone too far...
She leaned in and hugged him suddenly, gently, confirming the already overwhelming feeling that he had leapt a hurdle between them at some point the previous evening. As she rubbed her cheek against his, her scent came back to him in the form of memories from the night before. What he had said, the unexpected kiss she had given him, and his reciprocation all flooded back to him.
He was filled with a mixture of surprise, joy, and trepidation. Those memories were wonderful, and he silently applauded his drunk side for acting on instinct, though the shock of waking up to find her in his room still hadn't worn off. Remembering the words he had said to her from the night before did wonders to reassure him that the two of them hadn't gone too far, and so he allowed himself to calm down a little more, even hugging Twilight back for a brief moment before she pulled away.
She was smiling a little more normally now, and Gearrick realized she had been afraid he wouldn't remember that moment they had shared.
He sat up slowly, the sudden adrenaline having stabilized just about everything that was off-kilter for the time being, even taking the edge off the headache. Despite knowing what had happened between them and being okay with it, he didn't really know what to say now as the two of them just looked at each other. It was obvious from the silence and feeling of tension that not even Twilight had thought this far ahead, and was just as much at a loss for words as he was.
"So, I... Um... Good morning?" Gearrick finally asked at length, his total confusion fully apparent as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, taking his eyes away from her in embarrassment.
It hadn't really been his intention, but Twilight let out a nervous laugh at how ridiculous he sounded, one that quickly grew warmer and more sincere as the tension broke at last. Her laughter helped relieve Gearrick's nerves as well, a slight smile coming to his face.
"So, do you remember last night?" Twilight asked, apparently not convinced one way or the other yet as she blushed, awaiting his answer.
"It's a little fuzzy, but I remember," he said with a shaky smile. "At least I remember kissing you... Everything's a blur after that," he said cautiously, as if he both expected, and really wished there wouldn't be, bad news.
Twilight sighed in relief, letting out a pent-up giggle from her leftover nerves. She'd finally heard what she'd been wondering all morning. "That's because right after that you fell asleep. Well, not right after... I... Well, we just kind of..." she stammered, blushing and gesturing vaguely. She closed her eyes and squared her shoulders a little, braving up for what she had to say. "After you fell asleep, I stayed with you on the couch for a little while," she admitted, as if she were confessing a crime. "B-but I went to bed right after. Thank you for letting me have the bed, by the way," she finished lamely, sighing and shaking her head at her less-than-impressive speech.
It was Gearrick's turn to laugh as he extracted himself from the couch, standing tall and smiling happily. He'd heard all he needed to now, to know that he hadn't gone too far with her and done something he would have regretted. Everything he'd heard from her so far... well, he was more than alright with it. Hell, he was ecstatic, now that the sense of worry was gone.
He reached a hoof around the back of her neck, pulling her closer into another gentle hug, pressing his cheek against hers, and smiling as the heat from her nervous blush filtered through her coat.
"Hey," he whispered in her ear, his lone chuckle bringing a smile he felt but couldn't see to her face. "Don't worry about that. I don't mind it at all."
"Then... Can we?" she whispered back, hugging around his neck.
Gearrick didn't have any trouble figuring out what she meant as he ran a hoof gently down her neck. Just to be with him, close to him. Nothing strange, or wrong; just the simple joy of knowing it hadn't been a fluke, that they really were exploring feelings for one another.
He smiled to himself as he pulled back from the embrace, looking into her hopeful eyes. It was going to be a busy day, with a lot of work to be done on the Nomad, but he couldn't remember her laying next to him, holding him close. He wouldn't sleep it away this time.
Without a word he turned and laid back down, getting comfortable again before patting the space next to him, a calm smile in place.
Smiling excitedly, Twilight climbed onto the couch next to him, wrapping her forelegs around his neck and pressing close so that she wouldn't be hanging off the edge. She rested her head against his chest, the smile fading to one of simple warmth and enjoyment.
He hugged her to himself gently, as much to hold her in place as just to hold her. He closed his eyes again, but not sleepily; just comfortably as he rested his own chin gently against the top of her head. She was so warm and soft, her scent was wonderful. With his eyes closed, it was as if he were lost in a world of just her.
Gearrick almost wondered if this were strange. If they were doing things right, or moving too fast.
Almost.
Myla sat fidgeting on her end of the chess board. The room around her and her sister was white. It was always white, with not a speck of color, except for the chairs and the chessboard, and its two players.
"Knight to 'E' seven," Phyla said, her voice empty of any trace of emotion.
Myla watched with a scowl as her bishop was taken, the same way it seemed to happen almost every time she and her sister had to play. "I hate this stupid game," she grumbled, moving a piece without even giving the action a single thought. "I don't want to play anymore."
"You know that we have to," Phyla replied simply, taking a pawn with her queen. "Check."
"I give up. You win," Myla grumbled, tipping her king over.
"You always give up. Why do you always surrender?" Phyla asked.
"It's not like I can beat you, so at least I can rob you of the satisfaction of a good challenge. If I have to hate this stupid game, then you should too," she said irately.
"There's no need to be angry," Phyla said, her tone taking on a subtle hint of tenderness.
"There's plenty of cause to be angry!" Myla shot back, fuming much more than she was letting on. "You always win, and it's not like I can. That's why you always get to do what you want, and I never get to do what I want..."
"Sister..." Phyla began, emotion present in her eyes that never made it to her words.
"I hate us," Myla said suddenly, tears brimming at her eyes. "Why us? Why are we like this?"
"I do not like it, either, but it isn't our choice. Discord is the one responsible for all of this," Phyla said, standing from the chess table. "If you like, I will let you win again tomorrow, but today there are things I need to take care of."
"Fine. Let me win. Always have to help the stupid, emotional sister. Not smart enough, not good enough!" Myla growled, even as Phyla turned her back and walked away.
"You should know I never felt that way," Phyla shot back, her voice icy cold.
"And how would I know that?" Myla asked angrily, but despite her frustrated tone, tears were brimming in her eyes. "You never say anything; always thinking, and never doing. Even when you do talk, it's like there's no one in there. How should I know how you feel, if you never feel anything?"
Phyla stopped walking, and Myla caught the telltale whispers of a fading sigh. "You should know, because you are my sister. Even if I cannot feel the same way that I used to before all of this, we both know what it is like to love our sister, don't we?"
Myla bit back her angry, hurt retort, unable to argue that. She did love Phyla. The one she hated was Discord, for doing what he had to the both of them. "I know... Fine, you go and do whatever it is you have to do. I'll just wait until it's my turn to enjoy myself, like a good little girl. Like I always do."
Phyla started walking again, sighing once more. "I'm sorry, Myla. I'll be back soon," she promised, vanishing suddenly from the small, white room with the chessboard.
Myla sighed as well, sniffing back tears. The white walls grew into darker and darker shades of grey, until at last they simply turned black, leaving her in a room completely shrouded in shadow.
"I'll just be here," she muttered. "Waiting, in the dark."
Mick pressed the button for his intercom, which was blinking a red light at him. "What is it, Melody?" he asked calmly, taking a pull on his cigar.
"There's a mare here to see you Mr. Magnet. Her name is Phyla, and she says she doesn't have an appointment," crackled his secretary's voice from the speakers.
Mick nearly choked on a gasping pull from the cigar, glad that the system was designed so that he couldn't be heard unless he was pressing the button. When he had recovered, he pressed the intercom again, still sounding like his throat were pinched. "Send her up immediately," he said sternly.
"Yes sir, Mr. Magnet," Melody replied, the intercom hanging up with a click.
"God damn her," Mick grumbled, looking around his office and puffing on the cigar more normally. "I told her never to come calling at work. The last thing I need is for ponies to start figuring out she works for me..."
More smoke trailed from his nostrils as he calmed himself down, shutting his eyes and taking a sip from a waiting whiskey glass. He stuck the cigar in his mouth but just settled for chewing on it as he glanced around. Everything was cast in bronze, it seemed. His trophy case, the corners of his desk, the back of his thick, red-cushioned chair. Even the matching red rug under his ornate desk was lined in gold thread.
The executive office of the Gearbox Guild headquarters certainly was something, and why shouldn't it be? After all, he was the owner of the most industrious company in the world. Even those newly revealed changeling bastards didn't have anything like what he had, though supposedly they were some kind of world superpower. Royal orders had come down for a few more train engines to be built, for new lines that were being run out to the west.
Trains were good money, and the Royal Treasury would gladly pay more than most without ever knowing it, if Mick fiddled with the prices ahead of time. It didn't matter where they were sending the damned things; changeling lands, hell, even into the mountains for dragons for all he cared. All that mattered was that somepony needed a train, and they'd pay him to build one.
He sighed contentedly, his nerves calmed at last over Phyla's latest little tactless move. He was even smiling by the time she sidled through the heavy bronze door to his office.
"You wanted to see me about Tinkermane," she stated simply, closing it behind her.
"Yes, but not here," Mick scolded idly around the butt of his cigar. "I've told you plenty of times not to come around here. You're supposed to be working for me secretly, not at my headquarters," he grumbled, pulling the cigar out of his mouth, and sipping from the whiskey glass.
"It doesn't matter, we have never been caught anyways," Phyla said with a scowl. "To the point, please. Business only."
Mick scowled, not accustomed to being bossed around. Sadly, this was just how Phyla worked, so he had to cope with it. "Business," Mick echoed at length, setting his glass down and popping open a drawer in his desk. Out of the large pocket he pulled a briefcase, locked tight with a custom-built combination lock, Mick's own design. Without another word, he simply tossed the sealed case over his desk, where it slid across the carpet to her hooves.
"The combination is the same as always. Leave it where you normally do when you've emptied it," he said quietly, turning his large swivel chair about.
"It's triple?" she asked, for the sound of bits had reached her ears the minute the brown package had bounced off the carpet.
"Like we agreed, yes. Tomorrow is the third stage, and it would be simplest to eliminate Gearrick then. The design review weeds even the best inventions out for flaws, so it wouldn't raise suspicion. Nothing dirty, or overt, no exploding steam tanks. Break a strut, botch a weld, I don't care. I just want him removed from the contest cleanly," Mick finished by popping the cigar to the other side of his mouth and taking a long pull, huffing the smoke out his nose. "He's too popular for us to cause anything extreme without being found out. I trust you to handle this, so that I don't have to."
"Understood," Phyla said simply, picking up the case and setting it across her back, balancing it easily. "When? I think the morning would work best."
Mick pondered that, then smiled. "No, hit him tonight. Just make sure that whatever you do doesn't make it impossible for him to drive it. He still has to show up at the contest, after all. Then once he's out, I can see about buying the blueprint of that contraption off of him," he mused, turning his chair fully around, an obvious signal that the business was concluded.
"Whatever you like," Phyla said emptily, and the next sound Mick heard was the opening and closing of his office door.
He smiled to himself as he hit a button under his desk, metal blinds sliding aside and revealing the midday sun glinting off the city below. His office was just below the Veil, the haze of ever-present steam hanging over the city, offering him the view of a king, along with the feeling that he could reach out and touch the sky.
"It's nice to have everything under control," he chuckled, raising his whiskey glass in a toast to his reflection in the window.
Gearrick blinked himself awake, not too terribly surprised to find that he had dozed off. His default reaction to having a headache was usually to just go back to bed. Accompanied by his living, purple blanket, that notion had come to him a little easier than usual.
He smiled to himself as he did his best not to move too much. Twilight had drifted off too, and was still sleeping in his embrace. She certainly looked peaceful, eyes closed and not a care in the world to show on her face as her breathing went gently back and forth. She had somehow managed to press even closer to him by curling herself up slightly, a feat he hadn't thought was physically possible. Despite the improved proximity, everything was still comfortable.
She seemed more beautiful when she was asleep. Perhaps it was simply because when she was like this, he had nothing to be embarrassed about when thinking such things. He could look at her without worry. Worry of what wasn't something he could figure an answer to, but he knew for a fact that looking at her like this was private. Not shady, like spying, but she was simply his to observe in this way, without even her own opinion of herself to influence his thoughts.
She murmured something quietly and snuggled her face into his chest again, it having drifted just a few inches off course.
Chuckling to himself, Gearrick decided to risk some gentle contact that he hoped wouldn't wake her. He gently ran a hoof up and down her back, laying back down as he continued to do so. She didn't react much to his touch, but there were subtle signs that she felt it, like the subconscious smile starting to play at the corners of her mouth.
He smiled as well, quietly wondering what she might be dreaming about. He stayed with her a short while longer, before a look out the window told him it was time to get up. Being pinned to the back of the couch made leaving without waking her a little more difficult than it needed to be, but Gearrick's crafty mind quickly came up with a solution.
Using his magic, he lifted them both as they were. No sense of gravity intruded through the copper glow, and in fact it felt as if nothing had changed at all. He smiled to himself as he rolled the pair of them over in the air, before setting himself and his passenger back down gently. After the aerial maneuvering, Twilight was the one with her back to the couch now. She hadn't reacted throughout the whole thing, her steady, slow breathing completely uninterrupted.
Smile still in place, he slowly extracted himself from her. She didn't have her forelegs wrapped around him anymore, but tucked up to her chest between them instead, which made things somewhat simpler. He wiggled one of his own out from under her, and quietly rolled off the couch. She murmured something else, but didn't move much, other than to curl up more tightly.
Realizing that the absence of his body-heat would eventually get noticed, Gearrick magicked a blanket over from his bed, draping it over her. He allowed himself a breathless laugh as she seemed to relax again, the warmth of the blanket offsetting his sudden departure. Unable to help himself, he leaned down and brushed his lips against the soft, warm coat on her cheek, before at last he turned and departed from the couch, and the bedroom at large.
Confident that she would still be asleep for a while, he decided to take a shower before going on the hunt for breakfast somewhere down the street. He headed to the second office on the left, popping the door open with a rough smack. It had no doorknob, and it needed to be sanded down to better fit in its frame, but as long as hitting it still worked, Gearrick couldn't find any reason to fix it.
The inside of the room, on the other hoof, held the telltale sign of his personal modifications. The floorboards were covered corner to corner with oiled canvas, to repel any water and keep them from rotting. The old desk that had been left behind was up against one wall, and had been converted into a counter top, complete with a sink and a mirror on the wall above it.
The standing shower in the corner was made out of carefully reconstructed barrel wood, from the old shipments of ink the press had received. The wood was treated and waterproof, and assembling the slightly-curved slats into a roughly-square shower box had taken some time, but at least it didn't leak.
He'd managed to get most of the piping he needed by rerouting the fire suppression system from the office area, so he had running water. As for the drainage, he had piped it through the floor and then out the side of the warehouse, tying straight into the rain runoff from the roof, which ran into a storm drain in the alley out back.
He chuckled to himself every time he looked at it. All in all, it actually looked rather nice, the wooden shower, canvas floor, and desk-sink. He prided himself on being able to get by no matter what he was given, and this was a prime example. Who would have thought to turn the fire sprinklers into a sink and shower? The suppression system upstairs wasn't really all that vital, considering that the one below was still intact, and that's where most of the danger of fire came from.
Contentedly proud with his work, as always, he hopped in, closing the canvas curtain behind him. He went through his morning routine, trimming back the coat on his jaw, which daily threatened to grow into a beard. After getting out of the shower and brushing his teeth, he was ready for the day. Almost ready, he noted, as his mane looked far too orderly in the mirror. He dashed his front hooves back and forth through it, ruffling it into its usual, spiky layout.
With the minor matter of his appearance settled, he poked his head back into his bedroom. Twilight was supposedly still sleeping, because he couldn't see her anywhere else in the room. Satisfied, he made his way downstairs and out onto the street.
He swung by a bakery on the corner, getting a decent assortment of things. He wasn't really sure what Twilight would want for breakfast, but for his part a couple doughnuts were all his grumbling stomach desired. He tore into one on the way back, pleased to find the glazed treat still steaming on the inside.
The sun was out, and some gulls were zipping up and down the riverbank, looking to scoop up any minnows hanging out by the bank wall, the sky beyond the haze of steam from the power plant crystal blue. Gearrick sighed contentedly as he paused outside the warehouse, taking it all in.
"It's going to be a good day," he said with a smile, heading back inside.
Twilight woke to her stomach grumbling, and the sound of a paper bag rustling as she propped herself up. The bag slid from the blanket draped over her and dropped lightly off the edge of the couch, landing right-side-up. The smells wafting from it made her stomach grumble again, and picking it up with her magic she peered into its aromatic depths. Inside were various doughnuts, muffins, and something that looked like a piece of cinnamon toast at the bottom.
Also inside was a note, which she pulled out along with a blueberry muffin. She chewed on her breakfast slowly, reading the short, barely legible script.
Hey, sorry if I'm not there when you wake up, but here's breakfast. Shower's second door on the left, should be plenty of soap and stuff. I'll be downstairs working on the Nomad all evening, so come and join me whenever you're ready.
It wasn't signed or anything, not that it needed to be. Twilight smiled as she dropped the note with her magic, turning the blueberry muffin over in her hooves. "He's such a sweetheart," she said with a disbelieving shake of her head, taking another bite. She never would have expected him to go out of his way for her like that, even after the recent events. Still, that was just how he was all the time, it seemed. Always going out of his way and not even having much to say about it, she thought with a laugh, looking at the paltry, three line letter he had left behind.
She leaned back comfortably, just thinking and finishing her muffin. So what did all this mean? Were they dating? Technically they'd already been on a few dates, so maybe. Maybe there wasn't even a word for what was going on between them, but Twilight was just content that it was in line with what she had wanted.
Things were moving pretty quickly now, but that was mostly her fault. Nothing would seem so sudden if she hadn't done something sudden herself, she realized. Still, it didn't feel weird or anything, and she was glad she'd gotten to it sooner rather than later. After all, she would have to leave after the contest, and get back to her duties at the library.
She sighed to herself as that thought dug in. Either way she would have to leave, but at least now she could leave knowing he felt the same way. If she'd waited, or not said anything, she never would have known. But the idea of leaving so soon, after everything had worked out like that... it almost felt worse to think about than wondering what would have happened if she had never told him.
"I hope this is what Applejack meant about listening to my heart," she muttered quietly. With one final sigh, she let those thoughts go. It was only Wednesday, she had the whole rest of the week to spend with him and figure out what she wanted to do. And besides, she could come back anytime, he had said so himself.
She ended up eating one of the doughnuts also, and unable to find a trashcan she just stuffed her muffin wrapper back in the bag before sealing it up and setting it on top of a table next to the bed. Judging by the light outside, it was probably two or three in the afternoon now. The napping didn't really surprise her; she'd spent most of the night fighting sleep just so she could stay cuddled next to Gearrick. She had cautioned herself against sleeping next to him, thinking that might have been a bit too far.
Apparently it wasn't.
With a smile to herself, she followed the directions to the shower. She went to brush her teeth once she was all dried off, but realized her toothbrush was still at the hotel. She spent a few moments looking from Gearrick's toothbrush to the door and back, until finally she gave up on it and simply headed for the stairs.
Sounds of clinking metal and a muffled curse brought a small smile to her lips before she had even rounded the landing. Once she was at the bottom of the stairs, all she could see were his back legs sticking out from underneath the Nomad, his tail swishing this way and that as his forelegs did some unseen work under the vehicle. Another clang and whispered chunk of foul language made her giggle, which caused his tail to freeze.
Moments later he popped out from underneath the Nomad, sliding on a little wooden slat with wheels. Despite the fact that he had already showered for the day, he was now covered in soot, grease, and what was most likely water slicking his coat this way and that and giving him various stripes and spots. The momentum of his push off the Nomad had his little slider spinning a slight turn and heading her way.
He came to rest with his mane brushing up against her front hooves, dragging one of his back ones to slow the slider just before hitting her. He was smirking, his hooves behind his head as he just looked up at her from his place on the floor. "Nice of you to join me," he chuckled, tapping the wrench he had in one hoof on the floor.
Twilight smiled, unable to deny how oddly cool that little maneuver with the slider had been, cool being a thing years with Rainbow Dash had taught her to understand. "Well, I had a note delivered that told me to come down here. Anyways, thank you for breakfast," she said with a smile, nudging his head with a hoof. "By the way, what's the point of taking a shower if you're just going to get covered in grease anyways?"
Gearrick just scowled at her. "What's wrong with taking two showers? It's my shower, I can have as many as I want."
Twilight had to think that over for a moment before she just gave up, laughing. "I suppose you can. Does that mean I can too?" she asked, smiling slyly.
"Well yeah, but why?" Gearrick asked in reply, eying her curiously.
"Well, I'm probably going to get covered in grease too if I lend you a hoof, right?" she giggled, magicking the wrench out of his hoof and waving it around slightly.
Gearrick just shook his head and laughed. "A girl who wants to get covered in grease..." he muttered, smudging a little puddle of the stuff that he had on his chest even as he said it.
"What's wrong with that?" Twilight asked, scowling.
"Nothing, nothing at all. Just reminds me of my mentor, that's all. Anyways, here," Gearrick chuckled, pulling over another one of the sliders. "Your very own modified newspaper cart. Now then, I'll take that," he said, his inflection going up as he yanked the wrench back out of her magic. "Mind doing me a favor and giving me a push?" he asked, pointing with one of his back legs back to the Nomad.
Twilight smiled mischievously and gave his cart a heavy shove with her magic, thinking to startle him. But instead of overreacting, he simply put his empty front hoof down and spun the slider around until he was facing head first, dragging his back hooves to slow his passage back under the Nomad until he ended up roughly where he had been when she'd come down the stairs.
"Now you definitely remind me of Tacks," came a muffled chuckle from under the machine, followed by the sound of a bolt being turned.
Slightly impressed by his control, Twilight got onto her own slider. Her awe at his handling of the thing doubled as she came to realize it was not an easy thing to pilot, often times scooting some obscure direction instead of where she was trying to get. At last she inched up next to him under the Nomad, the smell of grease and the sharp, metallic tinge in the air almost making her sneeze, but the sensation went away after a moment.
She watched quietly for a few moments as he continued loosening the bolt he was working on. It popped free suddenly, causing Twilight to jump at the unexpected release, the bolt coming down with a rather large gear close behind.
Gearrick didn't flinch, just deftly caught both the bolt and gear with his magic, setting them aside. "Scared you, didn't I?" he chuckled, taking a brush and dipping it in a grease can next to him, slathering the teeth of other gears above him, revealed in the removed gear's absence.
"Surprised me a little," she admitted. "So, what does that piece do?" she asked, pointing to the gear next to her, though unable to arrange herself comfortably to do so.
"It's the primary gear for the turning mechanism," he explained, setting the brush down and fitting the gear back into place before reinserting the bolt and tightening it back down. "It seemed like the steering column was catching a little on the way to the bar last night, so I figured I'd have a look. Sure enough, these ones needed to be re-greased, but it should be good now."
"Well what else do you need to check?" Twilight asked, smiling as she looked at the various gears and pipes in front of her. There certainly were a lot of them, and she had trouble imagining he had built this in just two years.
"Pretty much everything," he said with a sigh, passing the wrench to her unexpectedly. "See that bolt?" he asked, outlining it with his magic so that she could pinpoint it. "Mind making sure that's tightened down for me?"
Twilight was ecstatic to be allowed to help, and she hummed to herself while Gearrick kept on talking, working the wrench with her magic and battening the bolt down.
"After climbing the wall, I have to make sure the suspension didn't get tweaked at all, and ensure that all the bolts holding the wheels on are still alright. There's a lot I need to check after running those first tests on the all-terrain systems, so it's going to be a long night. I'm not really worried about the design review, to be honest, but I want to make sure the Nomad's running smooth as can be, and that none of the rings I put her through did any damage," he huffed, sliding a few feet away from Twilight and poking at a scorched copper box, one of six on the rear of the vehicle.
"Oh, I get it," Twilight said, setting the wrench down. "Anyways, are those the engines you designed?"
"Yep, and engine one is showing even less wear than I thought, considering it's the one I use most," he said fondly, patting the copper tank with a clanging sound.
"So, Gearrick," Twilight started, smiling to show it was more of a casual thought, "when you said I remind you of your mentor, what did you mean?"
Gearrick smiled back, clearly fond of some memory. "Nothing bad. I could tell before you even said anything that you wanted to help out with the Nomad. You had the same look in your eye that she had whenever she started on something new. Not to mention, shoving my slider... Pretty classic Tacks," he chuckled. "You're a lot like her."
Twilight smiled, sensing a tenderness behind his words that made her feel glad to share so much in common with Brass Tacks. "Well, you're not like anypony I've ever met," she said quietly, not really thinking about it.
"And what do you mean by that?" Gearrick asked, his tone full of mock anger.
Twilight just chuckled to herself, picking up the next tool that he had magicked her way. "Nothing bad."
The two of them worked all afternoon, tightening bolts and checking couplings. Gearrick put the suspension to the test at one point in a rather unceremonious fashion, picking the entire Nomad up and dropping it about a foot, while Twilight watched with wide-eyed concern.
At last the sun was going down, and it seemed like the list of things to do was getting shorter and shorter, at least for Twilight.
"Alright, I need to check the engines still, and there's not much you can do to help me out with that," he said, sounding disappointed that he had to sit her out. "Are you heading back to the hotel tonight?"
Twilight hadn't really thought about that, so she just shrugged as Gearrick mopped his face with a nearby rag. "I probably should," she admitted.
"Well... I know the place isn't much, but why not just stay here?" Gearrick offered, smiling. "You already did for one night, after all. The bed might not be as comfortable, but at least it's free. Besides, I don't know about you, but it seems like we'd be spending all of our time together anyways," he finished, the last bit coming with a less-than-confident smirk.
Twilight was a little taken aback by the offer. Stay here, for the rest of the contest? That was three more days at least, and she probably wouldn't even leave until Sunday. "Are you sure?" she asked, excited at the prospect. It showed in her tone, which she realized with a blush.
Gearrick just smiled. "Yes I'm sure. I still don't want anyone getting the wrong idea about you, but... If anypony says anything, I'll straighten them out," he said with a chuckle.
Twilight smiled happily, her heart doing back flips. Even if she did have to leave in three days, she could at least spend all of them with him, dawn to dusk. "I'd love to," she admitted. "I'd just need to get my things and cancel my stay at the hotel."
Gearrick smiled, using one of his hooves to smear a patch of grease on her coat; just one of many she had acquired. "Before you go and take care of that, might want to wash up," he teased.
Twilight just laughed, heading for the stairs. A few minutes later she was back down, only to catch Gearrick back at work on the Nomad. She started heading for the door, thinking to let him work and just take care of it herself.
"Do you need a ride? This can wait," he called out, surprising her by even acknowledging her leaving.
"No, you keep working. I can just teleport there and back quick, it's just one bag," she said with a smile. "It won't take long."
"If you insist," he replied skeptically, clearly not feeling right about sending her herself.
"I'll pick up dinner while I'm out, too," she added suddenly.
"You don't need to do that," he started, but Twilight cut him off with a scowl.
"You've bought my food plenty of times, and you're letting me stay with you. I think I can handle dinner," she said, rolling her eyes.
Gearrick sighed and shrugged, clearly defeated. "Alright, on behalf of my stomach I won't stop you," he chuckled, turning back to the Nomad and wrenching something.
Satisfied, Twilight closed her eyes, concentrating on her destination. Then in a flash of purple she was gone, leaving her tinker to his tweaking.
Myla sat at the chessboard, waiting as Phyla walked closer. Once her sister was seated, she cleared her throat. "So, how did it go?"
Phyla sighed. "Magnet is an idiot. He wants us to work on Tinkermane tonight instead of tomorrow morning," she said idly, sliding her chair in.
Myla did her best to conceal her emotional response, and was glad to find Phyla looking more at the board than at her. "Tonight?"
"Yes, tonight," Phyla said quietly. "That means you can have control tomorrow, but tonight I need it."
"Right, right," Myla sighed. "I suppose that means you won't let me win?" she pouted.
"I can't this time. I am sorry," Phyla replied, moving a pawn to start the game.
"And I can't let you handle this one, I'm afraid," Myla replied with a suddenly wicked smile, moving her own pawn.
"What do you mean?" Phyla asked, not liking, but not reacting, to Myla's devilish grin. She played her next move, crossing a knight out next to her pawn.
"I want to handle Tinkermane myself," Myla said coldly, moving a bishop out in reply.
"I'm sorry, but you can't beat me. You never have," Phyla replied, her tone somewhat sad. "And this job is important."
"That's a funny thing about logic, isn't it?" Myla asked with a chuckle, moving again. "How you can't lie. Lying makes no sense, does it?"
"What are you talking about?" Phyla shivered, suddenly feeling as if she were freezing. It was Myla's eyes, strangely cold and clever.
"You wouldn't even know a lie if you saw one. Don't you think it's strange... how in five years of playing this stupid game I've never gotten any better?" Myla asked, chuckling as she moved another piece.
It was clear what was happening. Just by looking at the board, Phyla could tell that she was losing. All this time Myla had been biding her time, saving her best tricks for when she absolutely had to wrest control from Phyla, and faking her lack of skill.
"All these years..." Phyla said quietly, moving a piece. But her move was hesitant, her hoof shook slightly from emotion she felt but couldn't show.
"That's right," Myla chuckled, placing Phyla in check. "For a while now, I've been the one letting you win."
A pounding came from the front of the workshop. Gearrick turned from his work on the Nomad, eyes fixing on the door to the warehouse. Twilight couldn't be back already, she'd only left five minutes ago. Anyways, she would have known better than to knock, so who the heck could it be?
"Coming!" he called, doing his best to wipe himself off with the rag real quick before trotting over to the door. He pulled it open slowly, a curious expression on his face as he eyed his visitor. Outside stood a black mare with silver spots and a midnight blue mane, a pony he'd never seen before.
She looked at him with eyes too full, and of what he hadn't the slightest clue. She seemed barely contained on his doorstep, kneading her front hooves. He couldn't tell if she was in some kind of trouble, but a quick glance behind her didn't afford him a view of anypony chasing her or anything.
"Can I help you?" he asked kindly.
"Oh, I think you can," she replied slyly, giving him a warm smile.
Gearrick blushed, hoping that he was just mistaking the way she had said that. It didn't help that he knew what he had heard, and matters were further complicated by the fact that she was beautiful in every sense of the word. That smile stunned him, left him speechless.
"But first, I'm here to help you," she cooed, inching closer, but not passing the threshold of his door.
"W-whatever help you're talking about, I'm pretty sure I'm fine," Gearrick stammered, recovering suddenly.
"Oh, I'm sure you're not," she chuckled, her sultry tone gone and replaced with an amused one. "See, the Gearbox Guild is after you... And I'm the girl they sent for the job. Or one of them, rather," she said simply, flipping her hair and smiling smugly.
Gearrick was again speechless. The Gearbox Guild, after him? That wasn't really surprising, not considering his success the previous year, but if she was the one they sent, what the hell was she doing telling him?
"Can I come in?" she asked pleasantly, all but trotting in place while awaiting his answer.
Gearrick had to think very hard about that. Even if she was with the Gearbox Guild, what harm could she do if he kept his eyes on her? She was just one pony. "I suppose?" he replied, asking it as much as allowing it.
She squealed with delight, zipping past him and dashing over to the Nomad.
"Don't touch anything," he growled suddenly, thinking that perhaps his prized invention was in danger. His heart did a dead drop when she winced, as if he had slapped her.
"I won't," she replied meekly, backing away from it a few steps. "Just because they sent me here to wreck it doesn't mean I'm going to..."
Gearrick sighed, sure he was being played the sucker. "Sorry. Then why are you here?" he asked, doing his best to keep the frustration out of his tone. If she was working for the Gearbox Guild, the cute act would only get her so far.
"Why, to warn you, of course," Myla replied. "My name is Myla. My sister, Phyla, is the one who's actually working for the guild. I'm more of a free agent," she said at length, trotting away, her flank swaying gracefully. "I have my own reasons for thwarting the guild, so we won't get into that. Now is there someplace more comfortable we can talk, or are you going to make a lady stand in a grease pile?" she asked with a pout.
Gearrick let out a groan that turned into a growl of frustration as he ran a hoof across his face. "Let's assume for even half a second that I believe you. What is there left to talk about?"
"Well for starters, how about how I can protect you and your invention until the contest is over? After that, the guild won't have any reason to come after you. It's all about the contest, you know. I've got all the details," Myla bragged, shaking her mane about. "So how about it?"
Gearrick scowled, clearly displeased with how this was going. "Alright, fine. Upstairs, we can talk there," he grumbled, doing his best to temper the nervous feeling he had about this mare. He could handle her if she tried anything with the Nomad, and on her own he doubted she could do any damage he couldn't fix.
What worried him more was how she was acting.
The two of them entered his bedroom, the couch and bed being the only seating in the building. She completely lost track of him, fawning over his little artistic creations, messing with the glass bundles, kind of like how Twilight had done. That correlation only made Gearrick feel more uneasy as he watched the beautiful mare gallivant about his bedroom.
"So, about protecting me and all these details you claim you know," he said, mustering the sternest tone he could.
"No need to be so uptight," she huffed, plopping down on the couch and looking out the window. She rubbed the seat next to her, smiling. "Come sit with me," she pleaded.
"If I do, will you tell me?" he asked, his frustration only growing. The nervous feeling was growing as well, begging him to throw her out and be done with it. But if she really did have information that would help keep his beloved Nomad safe, he needed to hear it.
"Yes," she said simply, patting the seat again.
With a sigh, Gearrick sat down next to her.
"Alright, so," she started, still looking out the window. "First, my orders usually come from Phyla. Not tonight though, I managed to get away," she chuckled. "Hers, on the other hoof, come straight from Mick Magnet, Gearbox Guild founder."
Gearrick looked a little shocked at that. He had always suspected it had more to do with the engineers who actually competed, and never would have assumed that it went straight to the top.
"My sister was instructed to take you out quietly in the third stage, so the fact that I'm even talking to you about it means that the mission has failed," she giggled, fixing him with a smooth smile. "All that means is that my sister didn't get you this time. Mick needs Phyla to do his dirty work for him, he can't afford being caught. It would cost him everything, and that's good news for you," she said, scooting closer to him on the couch.
Causing Gearrick to scoot further into the arm of the sofa. "And how is that good news?" he asked, his nervousness getting worse, practically pleading with him to flee.
"Because I can't stop Mick... but I can stop Phyla," Myla explained, now leaning into his shoulder, smiling as if nothing were wrong. "But if you want me to protect your precious little Nomad, there's something I want in return," she said, her front hooves sliding up his chest slowly as she climbed onto the couch. She straddled him suddenly, her smile and the lewd gleam in her eyes far too forward to be mistaken at all.
Gearrick's heart was pounding like a drum, and he now regretted letting her in, and he regretted it for reasons he never would have expected. "W-what would that be?" he asked, hoping, foolishly hoping, that even this far into it he was wrong about what she wanted. He was paralyzed, pinned by his confusion and the suddenness of the situation as much as the fact that she was climbing all over him.
"Can't you tell...?" she half-sang, running her hoof gently up and down his chest as she held his gaze, locked in her violet eyes. "What I want is you."
Even if Gearrick had a reply ready, he never would have had time to say it as Myla fell into him, kissing him deeply.