//------------------------------//
// Part 3 
// Story: More Than Buddies 
// by Crowley 
//------------------------------//

You sit outside Burl’s office, stewing in your own remorse and hating yourself more by the minute. You had been told to wait outside, since having you and Sharpquill in the same room would be a bad idea at this point. Not wasting any time smearing your reputation as payback for your fighting, the egotistical earth-pony followed Burl into his office, acting as overly dramatic as possible.

“Oh, it was horrible! I was just minding my own business, enquiring as to who spilled coffee on my desk, when all of a sudden…”

The door slammed shut behind him, before you could hear any more of his sordid slander. All you could hear from then on was the steady exchange of muffled voices from within. You’ve been waiting outside ever since.

“Sup, sortie.”

You look up. A familiar mail-mare, one who had seen the whole debacle unfold, looks back. She was somepony you’ve seen around quite a few times, a mane and tail of turquoise, and a golden-orange coat and wings. She calls you ‘sortie’. You call her Raindrops.

“Is Ditzy alright?” the first question on your mind. The pegasus’ face drops, regretfully looking at the floor.

“You deserve an honest answer, at least. She’s… been crying an awful lot since you got dragged off. She thinks it‘s all her fault.” Those words hit you like a kick in the ribcage. “But that’s why I’m here. I saw everything, so I’m gonna tell Chief exactly what happened. He’ll listen to me, I’m one of his longest serving employees.” With that, she raps on the door. A moment later, Burl answers.

“I thought I told ya to sit and wai- oh, Raindrops?” he stops mid-sentence when he discovers who it is.

“Chief,” she says calmly, “you don’t mind if I have a word, do you?”

Wordlessly, Burl opens the door further, letting her in with Sharpquill. The door shuts again, and the muffled conversation resumes, only this time with a third voice.

No matter how much you strain your ears, you can’t seem to catch every word they’re saying. Almost a minute of this passes, until you leap out of your skin at a sudden roar. A roar that you heard very well.

“…called her a WHAT!?”

Five short seconds later, the office door bashes open, complete with a certain earth-pony being flung outside. Once he lands (face first) on the floor, Sharpquill jostles himself upright again, shivering from the sudden startling flight. He made Burl angry. He doesn’t like Burl when he’s angry.

“H- h- how dare you! M- my auntie Mare will hear about this!”

“Yer darn right she’ll hear ‘bout it, I’ll be the one tellin’ her!” your boss bellows, “Get the horse-manure outta my post office before I tear out that mop ya call a mane!” At once, Sharpquill turns on his hooves and gallops out through the nearest exit, tail tucked between his legs.

“Expect yer last pay cheque in the mail!” Burl calls after him. Raindrops saunters out of his office moments later. “Thanks fer givin’ me all the details, it‘s just like him to lie through his teeth. Again.”

“No problem, Chief.” she turns her bluish eyes toward you, “I’ll go back and give Ditz some company. She needs it more than anypony else.” and then, she’s gone as quickly as she arrived.

“That clown, he thinks just ‘cause he’s related to the Mayor the world can bend over for him,” your boss grumbles, “Well he can kiss my hairy-” He then notices how you can’t help but smile at the bully getting his comeuppance.

“Dunno what you’re grinnin’ at, kid, you’re next.” Your smile drops, as if made from lead, “Get in my office, now.”

“But sir, you probably know everything by now.” you reason.

“It ain’t about the incident, it’s about somethin’ else.” He leads you into his cluttered office; boxes, envelopes and whatnot are scattered among the floor and on his desk, the blinds on his windows letting as little light in as possible.

“I gotta ask you somethin’ kid,” Burl takes a seat behind his dank, disorderly desk, “In fact, most of the ponies in the darn Post Office want to ask ya somethin‘.”

“Um,” Your eyes flick back and forth, “and what’s that?”

Your boss leans in slightly towards you, his eyes a subtle scowl under his trucker cap, his voice a low grunt. “Why are ya hurting poor Ditzy like this?”

“Wha- I- huh- what?” you visibly double-take at the accusation. “Sir, with all due respect, whatever Sharpquill told you back there-”

“Screw what I’m told, kid, I‘ve seen it happen with my own two eyes.” he growls, “Do you have any idea what Ditzy talks about when I’m supervisin’ her afternoon parcel-delivery rounds?”

Before you can even think of opening your mouth to answer, he cuts you off, “Three things: her daughter, muffins, and you.” Burl jabs his hoof in your direction, “And guess which one she talks about most?”

You have a good guess for that answer. “M- me?” you mumble.

“No; her daughter, then you. But that’s beside the point.” he pauses for a brief spell, letting it sink in, “Would ya like to know why she talks about ya so much? ‘Cause I sure know why. And I think you do too.”

You say nothing. You’re still trying to piece it all together. Maybe the knocks to the head earlier left you unfocused.

“Ya know what she told me yesterday? She said she was going to give ya a gift today. She was planning to bake ya-”

“-a batch of chocolate muffins.” you finish sombrely. “She knows they’re my favourite.”

“And why would she do that, ya think?”

“She told me it’s because we’re… good… friends?” those words fall from your mouth as your mind starts making more and more connections… could it really be..?

“We both know you mean more to her than that, kid.” he looks you right in your un-bruised eye, “She baked ‘em for ya ‘cause she was going to tell ya somethin’, and thought the muffins would make it easer for her to get the message across.”

The revelation came to you like a bucket of cold water. It all made sense.

The bag of muffins. How distraught she was when she got them mixed up and couldn’t give them to you. The gossip about you and her quietly rippling through the workplace. It was because Ditzy was planning something for you today. She was planning to confess her feelings to you. And you had no idea.

“Argh!” you’ve never felt so stupid in your life, “Idiot! You stupid idiot!”

“Uh, ‘scuse me?”

“Not you, Chief, me! I gotta go! I have to speak to her!”

You turn around and gallop out of your boss’s office at full pelt, and seconds later you find yourself slamming the kitchen area door open. Empty. Not a soul.

“Lunch was over ten minutes ago!” Burl catches up to you, “If yer lookin’ for Ditzy, she’s doin’ the afternoon parcel service with Raindrops!”

You shout a curse in frustration, something that would make a sailor-pony blush, and rush outside.

Please. Please don’t let it be too late…