- Chapter 3 -
Ponky tapped his hoof urgently on the top of the piano, staring at the clock on the wall. He’d dressed up for the event, putting on a nice tie and black jacket. Behind him, on stage, the foals were all doing warm-ups with Forceful Will, in preparation for the performance coming in only an hour.
“All right, everypony, do what I do. Lion face!” Forceful widened his eyes and mouth, baring his teeth in a ferocious face. All the foals giggled and did the same, shouting ‘raar!’. Forceful Will scrunched up his face, wincing his eyes to slits and crossing them, and pursed his lips tightly, sucking in his cheeks. “Lemon face,” he mumbled between his almost-closed lips. The foals all laughed and scrunched up their faces in imitation... all except two.
Diamond Tiara scowled. “This is dumb. Why do we have to do this?”
“So dumb!” agreed Silver Spoon.
Forceful Will smirked at the two prissy fillies. “Fair enough. I won’t make you do the exercises. Just watch out, because if you don’t stretch out your face properly, you might pull a face muscle in the middle of acting and end up looking like,” Forceful drooped his mouth open wide and rolled his eyes back in his head, drooling slightly, “thith!”
“Eeew!” all the foals said, giggling.
“No way! That’s not something that happens... right?” said Diamond Tiara, glancing around for support.
“Totally happens. All the time. Right, Ponky?” Forceful Will called out to his friend for backup.
“Huh? Oh, yeah. Totally. I was singing one time, and my jaw locked up on a high note, and I had to go to the hospital; all because I didn’t warm up.” Ponky chuckled.
All the foals gasped, and turned to Forceful Will, looking concerned. Forceful Will shrugged, his face impassive. “We can skip the warm-ups if you want.”
“No! We’ll do them!” Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon forced grins on their faces.
“That’s the spirit! Lion face!”
“Raar!”
Ponky chuckled and stepped away from the piano, heading up to the lobby of the theater. Beyond the double doors, Purple Prose and the stage manager, Lame Duck—a black-coated, fuschia-maned earth pony—sat at the desk, organizing tickets to sell to the patrons when the house opened in a half-hour. “Hey everypony. How’s it going?”
“Not great,” moaned Lame Duck. “I think that I’ve overhyped the show, and now too many ponies are going to come, and we’ll have to turn them away when we sell out!”
Purple Prose rolled his eyes. “That’s not a bad thing. If we sell out a show, that’s good for us! Even if we have to turn away a few ponies, it won’t be so bad.”
“But then those ponies will tell other ponies they got turned away, and we’ll get a horrible reputation, and then nopony will come to see the show, and it’ll be all my fault! Oh, I’m the worst stage manager ever!”
Purple Prose slapped Lame Duck across the face, and grabbed him by the shoulders, looking him in the eye. “Pull yourself together, pony! You’ve done a bang-up job, but you’re your own worst critic! Now, how many seats do we have?”
Lame Duck swallowed hard, “Two hundred.”
“And how many foals are in the show?”
“Twenty three,” Lame Duck replied, growing more at ease.
“And if each of those foals have two parents, and all their parents come, how many seats will we need?” prompted Prose.
“Forty-six.”
“And if each of those couples invites one friend, how many seats will we need?”
“Sixty-nine,” stated Lame Duck, without hesitation.
“And, if one pony not related to the foals or parents shows up for each poster you put up around town...”
“I put up fifty posters.”
“So, if one more extra pony shows up for each poster, we’ll have how many seats left over, counting all the ponies?”
“We’ll have eighty-one seats for anypony extra.” Lame Duck exhaled slowly, his face becoming calm.
“There. Better?” asked Purple Prose, releasing his friend.
“Yes. Sorry, I just... do that thing.” Lame Duck shook his head, focusing. “What’s up, Ponky? You need something?
“I was wondering if I could get a ticket for Pinkie Pie,” said Ponky, pointing to the stacks of tickets.
Lame Duck grinned at Ponky, nudging Purple Prose, who chuckled. “I hear ya, buddy. I got just the place for her. Front row, seat twenty, right in front of the piano.”
“You’re the best stage manager ever, Lame Duck!” Ponky offered his hoof to his friend, and Lame Duck hoof-bumped him after a moment of hesitation.
“... Not really. If I keep giving tickets away, we’ll lose money...” Lame Duck trailed off as he noticed Purple Prose raise an eyebrow at him, and grinned sheepishly. “Sorry.”
Ponky shook his head, chuckling. “Well, I appreciate it. I’ll toss ten bits into the still at the end of the night, and then we’ll be square.”
Lame Duck smiled, looking relieved. “Oh, that’s a good idea. Thanks, Ponky.”
Ponky grinned as Lame Duck hoofed over the ticket, and headed out the door, towards Sugarcube Corner. “I’ll be back in a few minutes! Just gonna drop off the ticket at Sugarcube Corner.”
“Good luck stormin’ the castle!” called Purple Prose with a wave.
Ponky flew down and landed on the doorstep to Sugarcube Corner. The bakery was closed for the evening, but he peeked through the glass, spotting Mrs. Cake sitting at a table, playing with Pumpkin and Pound. He tapped on the window and waved. Mrs. Cake got up and opened the door for him, smiling warmly. “Oh, hello Ponky! I thought Pinkie was coming to see you tonight!”
Returning the smile, Ponky nodded. “She is, Missus Cake. I’ve got her ticket, though.” Ponky brandished the ticket, his smile widening.
“Ah! I’ll let you in, then. All her friends are over, helping her get ready.” Mrs. Cake stepped back into the shop, returning to Pumpkin and Pound cake, who giggled wildly and waved at Ponky.
Ponky chuckled, stepping inside, and waved back at the Cake twins before heading upstairs. He stopped at the second story, turned down the hallway, and was met by Rainbow Dash and Applejack, who were leaning nonchalantly against the walls on either side of the hall, facing each other. “Hey Rainbow Dash. Hey Applejack.”
“Hey Ponky. Pinkie’s getting ready upstairs,” said Rainbow Dash, examining a hoof disinterestedly.
“What are you two doing down here? I’d think you’d be helping out upstairs.”
Applejack snickered. “Y’ got us all wrong, sugarcube. Rainbow an’ I don’t care much fer fru-fru stuff like makeovers and hooficures.”
“Totally lame. Plus, I don’t like other ponies touching my hooves,” Rainbow Dash stated.
Ponky smirked. “Fair enough. Mind if I head up? I’ve got Pinkie Pie’s ticket.”
Applejack held out a hoof. “I’ll take it, loverboy. Rarity left us with explicit instructions to chase you off if you showed up. She wants you to be surprised tonight.”
Ponky sighed. “No way I’m getting to see her until tonight, then?”
“‘Fraid not, Ponky.”
His wings drooping, Ponky hoofed over the ticket to Applejack. “Thanks, Applejack. I’ll see you at the performance, tonight?”
“Absolutely. I’ll be along whenever Rarity’s done prettyin’ up Pinkie Pie.” Applejack tipped her hat at Ponky, before heading upstairs with the ticket.
“How about you, Rainbow Dash?”
Rainbow Dash shrugged. “Yeah, I’m going too. Scootaloo asked me to come, so I figured, why not? It’s gonna be worth a laugh, anyway.”
Ponky chuckled, “Well, Scootaloo is pretty awesome. She plays Tybit, the most dangerous pie-fighter in Old Canterlot.”
Rainbow Dash snorted and laughed. “See! Totally hilarious! This’ll be fun, I’m sure.”
Spreading his wings open, Ponky stretched them out in anticipation of the flight back to the theater. “I’ve gotta get going. The house is opening soon, so I need to be warmed up and entertaining the audience with some show tunes and stuff before the play starts.”
“Break a leg, Ponky!”
Ponky zipped downstairs, nodding to Mrs. Cake, who gave Ponky a friendly, if weary, smile, her arms full with spontaneously crying foals. Ponky skidded to a halt, looking at the teary-eyed twins, and pulled a half-dozen silly faces at them. Their crying halted slowly, turning to sniffles, and they blinked at Ponky expectantly. He chuckled, “Sorry kids. Can’t do the flour trick today. I’ve got a date. Next time, huh?”
The twins giggled, waving at him, and Ponky ran out the door, spreading his wings and kicking off the ground. He soared into the crisp night air, making for the theater.
Ponky sat at his piano, wings twitching in nervous anticipation. The house had opened twenty minutes ago, and the audience had filed in. He had been playing non-stop, blending together piano medleys of classical music, and throwing in the occasional hit by Sapphire Shores. The audience chatted amicably, the dull susurrus of the crowd ebbing and flowing. He didn’t pay much attention, though, his eyes focused on the empty seat in front of him.
Somepony tapped him on the shoulder, and he nearly jumped, but continued playing, glancing back briefly find Props—wearing his black stage-crew turtleneck—standing behind him. Props pointed to the empty seat in front of the piano. “Waiting for Pinkie?”
Ponky nodded, giving his friend a wavering grin. “Yep. She’ll be here.”
“Of course she’ll be here! Don’t sweat it, man. Just play your piano and smile, and before you know it the kids’ll be taking bows and you’ll be free to sweep your lady fair off her hooves!” Props winked. “You’ll do great.”
Ponky relaxed a little bit, his wings’ nervous twitching finally stopping. “Thanks, Props.”
Props gave Ponky a reassuring pat on the shoulder, and turned to head backstage. “Break a leg!” called Ponky, grinning.
Props did a pratfall and grabbed his leg dramatically, before chuckling and ducking behind the curtain. Ponky chuckled and returned his gaze to his piano, running his hooves through a particularly tricky part of Clopin’s Minute Waltz. When he looked up at the seat in front of him, he froze, his hooves holding a chord as his jaw dropped open.
A beautiful mare sat in the seat. Her pink hair was done in curling, delicate ringlets that cascaded down her neck and bounced playfully. Her eyes were blue, but were accented by a careful application of makeup that brought out their depth, making them appear far more blue than Ponky remembered. She wore a strand of topaz gems, and her ears had small sapphire earrings set near the base. She wore a close-fitting, ruffled black dress that accented her feminine form, with a pink sash that went around her middle.
Pinkie Pie beamed at Ponky, glancing down at the dress self-consciously, and gave him a friendly wave. Ponky managed to close his mouth, and returned the smile, his hooves finally beginning to move again as he completed the Minute Waltz. Pinkie gestured to her ensemble and tilted her head at Ponky, mouthing ‘well?’.
Ponky nodded enthusiastically, mouthing back, ‘wow.’
Pinkie’s grin widened, and her hair physically trembled, straining against what was, no doubt, a very large amount of fixative and hair spray. Rarity had truly outdone herself.
Lame Duck walked out onstage, smiling at the audience, and the audience cheered in response. Ponky didn’t really care though, his eyes locked on Pinkie Pie.
“Fillies and Gentlecolts, Cheerilee’s Schoolhouse Performers would like me to welcome you to their production of ‘Romule and Fillyet.’” The audience roared, clapping, and Lame Duck waited patiently for a moment. “The management would like to remind you that there is no flash photography or magic allowed during the performance. Now, please, sit back and enjoy!” Lame Duck retreated behind the curtain, and Featherweight, wearing an oversized beret with a huge feather tucked into the side, wobbled out. He smiled uncertainly, and then recited, slowly and precisely.
“Two stables, both alike in dignity,
In fair Canterlot, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil pastry makes civil hooves unclean...”
Ponky played his heart out, following the action onstage with his ears, but he kept his eyes locked on Pinkie Pie. She was the immaculate audience member: smiling and laughing at the puns, getting teary-eyed during the sad parts, and breaking out into choruses of “d'awww!” with the rest of the audience during the romantic parts. Through it all, Ponky played for her and her alone. Every note was directed to her, and slowly, her gaze shifted, drawn away from the stage, to the pianist who couldn’t keep his eyes off her. She watched him with an attentive smile, and Ponky’s eyes never left her own. He smiled at her, pouring his soul into the music.
The quiet background accompaniment made Pinkie Pie lean forward in her seat to listen. The bold and exciting music accompanying the numerous pie-fights made her bounce with excitement. The sad theme that Ponky played to accompany Sweetie Belle’s dramatic demise made her misty-eyed. And the romantic overtures? Pinkie simply watched, her posture giving away nothing, the only clue betraying her interest was the smile on her face, which grew bigger during those moments. Ponky’s smile widened as well.
Before he knew it, the final pie had been thrown, the star-cross’d lovers died in each others hooves, and the foals were lining up on stage, bowing to the uproarious cheering of the audience. Pinkie was the first to leap to her hooves, leading the audience in a standing ovation.
Ponky played a happy fanfare as the foals trooped offstage to get out of their costumes, clean the whipped cream out of their manes, and return to their parents. Opening night was a huge success. The community had turned out in a huge show of support, and the house had been nearly full; many ponies choosing to buy tickets in advance for the shows on the following two evenings.
As the audience filed out, the foals’ parents moved down to the front of the stage, retrieving their children one-by-one. Pinkie Pie stood up, finally free from the confines of her chair, and bounced over to Ponky, leaning up against the Piano as he played a quiet tune and beaming at him. “Heya Ponky.”
“Hey Pinkie. You look... amazing,” said Ponky, smiling at her.
Pinkie blushed, waving a hoof in the air. “Aw, c’mon. Rarity’s the one that did all this! I just stood there and took it like a mare!”
“Well, she has my compliments, but you complete the look.”
Laughing, Pinkie skipped away, hopping up onto the stage and scooping up Scootaloo, Applebloom, and Sweetie Belle in a huge group hug. “You girls were so great! I didn’t understand half of what you said, but there was pie and it was funny!”
Rarity, Applejack, and Rainbow Dash approached Ponky, all three mares tossing sly looks at him. Ponky flushed, rubbing the back of his neck, and waved at them. “Hey girls. How’d you like the play?”
“You play a marvelous tune on your piano, Ponky!” replied Rarity with a smile.
“Th’ play was all right, even though it was a bit hard t’ follow, what with the fancy speak.” Applejack yawned, tipping her hat back a bit. “I’m gonna gather up Applebloom an’ get her home. She’s still got chores t’ do in the mornin’.”
“I actually had a lot of fun. I had no idea Flankspeare was so action packed!” Rainbow Dash threw a few punches at an invisible opponent, grinning fiercely.
Scootaloo ran over to Rainbow Dash, grinning from ear to ear. “Hey Rainbow Dash! What’d you think?”
“You did good, squirt. Deadliest pie fighter in Old Canterlot!” Rainbow Dash ruffled Scootaloo’s mane affectionately. Ponky didn’t think it was possible for Scootaloo to smile any wider, but she managed it.
Pinkie returned to the piano, sitting down on the bench next to Ponky with a smile. Ponky glanced at her and grinned, continuing to play as the audience members, parents, and foals left, until only the crew, plus Pinkie Pie, remained.
“Great work, everypony!” called Forceful Will from on stage.
“Everything went better than I expected, at least,” said Lame Duck, chuckling a little and sitting down on the edge of the stage.
Up in the rafters, Razzberry struggled with a few lights, adjusting their positioning and fitting new plastic gels into a few of the lights. Occasionally, the prolonged exposure to the heat of a light would melt the colored gel covering the light. “Music was great tonight, Ponky!” shouted Raz exuberantly.
Ponky smiled, glancing at Pinkie Pie, who was watching him play the piano with quiet fascination. “I had some inspiration.”
Ellipsis shut down the house lights and brought up the stage lights, sending them through a test pattern to check for bugs. “Well, keep it up. Razzberry and I had a few ideas for some improvements we could make for the lighting effects,” said Ellipsis, pointing up at the rafters.
“There’s always room for improvement,” murmured Forceful Will with a smirk.
“Hey, Prose, you did a great job as well. The audience loved your foal-friendly rendition!” said Ponky, grinning at Purple Prose.
“Thanks, Ponky, but it was still crap. I had a few ideas for some stage direction for tomorrow night, just to tweak things,” said Purple Prose laconically, as he strode up the aisle towards his office.
“You should add more pie! The pie was great!” said Pinkie Pie, giggling. “Oh, and you should have the actors throw a few pies at the audience! I bet they’ll love it! I know I would!”
Ponky chuckled. “You might be the only one, Pinkie.”
“Aw, c’mon! A little pie never hurt anypony!” She nudged Ponky, grinning at him. “As a matter of fact, I saved a pie at Sugarcube Corner. You want to come and share a piece with me? After all, a performance like that deserves a party!”
Ponky noticed the deafening silence, and glanced up from the piano, noticing how all his friends were leaning ever-so-slightly in his direction. Ponky cleared his throat loudly, and pointedly. They all jumped.
“Lots to do, everypony! Let’s get this stage cleaned up! Razzberry, Ellipsis, finish up with those lights, and then help Lame Duck with cleaning up the costumes!” called Props, stepping out from the wings.
Everypony hopped to work, chuckling quietly. Ponky shook his head, smiling, and said, “Usually, the party comes after the last performance. Plus, the guys need me here, to help clean up.”
Onstage, Props’ eyes widened, and he ran to the edge of the stage. He leapt off the stage and landed behind Ponky and Pinkie Pie. He coughed, looking briefly embarrassed, before regaining his composure and saying, pointedly, “Ponky, take the night off.”
Ponky stared at Props for a moment, but Props kept his expression deadpan. Ponky laughed. “Thanks, Props!”
Pinkie leapt up and gave Props a massive hug. “Yeah, thanks Propsy! I’ll take good care of your piano player, I promise!”
“Yeah, well, he turns into a pumpkin at midnight, so if you’re going to have that pie, you’d better go now,” said Props, chuckling.
Pinkie Pie’s eyes widened, and she whirled to face Ponky. “At midnight?! But that gives us like... an hour!”
“Three hours,” said Ponky, glancing up at the clock on the wall.
“Same thing! Let’s giddyup!” Pinkie grabbed Ponky and dragged him off the piano bench and up the aisle. Ponky managed to regain his balance, his wings flapping wildly for a moment, before breaking into a trot, and following Pinkie Pie as she left the theater in a rush.
Ponky and Pinkie Pie arrived at Sugarcube corner, and Pinkie swiftly unlocked the front door, hopping inside and holding the door open for Ponky. She beamed at him as he walked in, and pointed to the kitchen, being uncharacteristically quiet. The two ponies trotted into the kitchen, closing the door between the main part of the shop and the back area. Pinkie turned on a light, illuminating the kitchen in an intimate manner.
Pinkie gestured up towards the second floor with a wink. “The cakes and the twins are probably already asleep, so we needa keep it quiet, unless we’re in here or up in my room.”
“Why’s in here okay?” asked Ponky, curiously.
“I have late-night baking urges sometimes, and you know me! When I bake, I can’t help but get my sing on!” Pinkie giggled, hopping over to a counter where a pie was waiting.
She produced two plates and a pie cutter, and cut two pieces, offering one to Ponky. The pie was still warm, steaming pleasantly and producing an aroma that Ponky couldn’t quite place, but reminded him of the smell after a thunderstorm. “That doesn’t explain why we can be loud down here or in your room.”
Pinkie rolled her eyes. “I told you! I sing when I bake, and I bake at night, sooooo the cakes had this room and my room soundproofed and installed an extra-thick door, just for me!”
Ponky chuckled, intending to reply, but he made the mistake of taking a bite of the pie. His mane stood on end as a shock of electricity tingled through his body, making his tongue briefly numb. The numbness was slowly replaced by a sweet, tangy apple flavor. Ponky swallowed the bite of pie, his mane settling down, and gasped at Pinkie. “Y-you made zap-apple pie?! But, I thought zap-apple season isn’t for another five months!”
“Yepperooni! But Applejack gave me a few jars of preserved zap-apple slices and zap-apple jam, and I keep them on hoof, just in case I need to make something extra-special for an extra-special occasion!” Pinkie smiled warmly.
Ponky blushed, glancing down at the pie and admiring the prismatic blend of colors captured within the crisp, sweet crust. “What’s the occasion?” he asked, lamely.
“Well, a play is a pretty great occasion, and especially one as good as that one! Plus, I knew that after I watched so much pie go to waste, I’d want pie so bad! And then, I knew I’d have you to share it with me, so I baked a bigger pie!” Pinkie gestured to the pie proudly, “And this is the end result. Whaddya think?”
“Amazing,” said Ponky, looking less at the pie and more at Pinkie.
Pinkie giggled and threw her slice into the air, catching the entire thing in her mouth in a single bite. Her beautifully styled mane twitched and jumped, and finally sprung up into it’s usual arrangement, the zap apple power overwhelming the hairspray and liberating the curly ringlets. Ponky laughed, taking another bite of the pie and smiling as an electric tingle coursed down his spine.
“I had a great time tonight, too! The play was so much fun, and super funny, but your piano playing was extra-special!” Pinkie poked Ponky on the nose and beamed at him.
“I was playing for you,” said Ponky truthfully.
Pinkie blushed and laughed, giving Ponky a playful shove. “Flatterer! You just love me for my baked goods!”
Ponky smiled, butterflies rising in his stomach. “Not just for your baked goods.”
Pinkie gave him a sidelong glance, smirking. “And my zap-apple pie?”
“Not even close.” Ponky exhaled slowly, before continuing, “You’re the best, Pinkie. You’re so much fun to be around, and so good to me. I can’t help but smile when I’m around you, and that’s not just because you’re the Element of Laughter. When I see you, I feel like... like myself. I feel comfortable, and safe, and happy.”
Pinkie’s ears folded back, unused to such praise, and she giggled nervously. “Oh, good! I’m happy I make you happy, Ponky!”
“It’s more than happy, Pinkie. I feel... complete around you.” Ponky set down his plate of pie, looking at her seriously. “You’re more than just a friend to me, Pinkie, and... I hope you might feel the same way?”
Pinkie Pie smiled at him, blinking a few times. “Of course. We’re not just friends, Ponky!”
Ponky breathed a sigh of relief.
“We’re best friends!” Pinkie declared, giving Ponky a huge hug.
Ponky blinked, and chuckled, pushing her away gently to hold her at arm’s length. “I meant... more than best friends.”
Pinkie’s grin faltered, briefly. “... super best friends forever?” she asked, uncertainly.
Ponky laughed, shaking his head, realizing that this wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d hoped. “I mean... Pinkie... I want you to be my very special somepony.”
Pinkie Pie’s jaw literally dropped to the ground. She gathered it up in her hooves, returning it to it’s regular position. “You what?!”
Ponky stared at Pinkie Pie, his stomach tying into knots. “...Oh, sweet Celestia. You had no idea, did you?”
Pinkie Pie shook her head, staring at Ponky. “I... no! I had no idea!” She covered her face with her hooves, giggling nervously. “Oh gosh!”
Ponky released his grip on Pinkie Pie, taking a small step back from her. “But... what about inviting me to meet your friends?”
Pinkie waved her hooves in the air. “I just wanted you to meet my friends!”
“And what about coming with me to the play? You said—” Ponky stopped himself. “Of course. You didn’t mean ‘a date,’ as in a date.”
“I didn’t mean what? Of course it was a date! You gave me a day and time!” Pinkie pranced in place, looking worried. “Oh, gosh, what did I say?”
“And all the dressing up was Rarity’s idea,” stated Ponky, feeling cold.
“Well, yeah! I just wanted to come, but Rarity and the rest of the girls made a big thing about me looking good! I thought that it was just how you were supposed to dress for a play! When I got there, and nopony else was dressed up, I felt kinda silly!” She blushed, hiding her face. “But then you liked it, so I figured if you liked it, it was probably okay!”
“Of course I—!” Ponky stopped himself mid-sentence, and cleared his throat. “You know what, never mind. This was a huge mistake.”
Pinkie Pie winced at Ponky’s tone of voice. “I’m sorry Ponky! I didn’t mean—”
“I know, Pinkie. I know you didn’t.” Ponky managed a small smile, and Pinkie returned it uncertainly. “I guess we all just... misunderstood you.”
“I... I guess so.” Pinkie scuffed her hoof on the floor, looking anywhere but at Ponky.
Ponky stood quietly for a moment, looking around aimlessly and gathering himself, before speaking. “Thank you, Pinkie. I had fun, tonight.”
“I had fun too, Ponky.” Pinkie rallied a huge grin for her friend, and Ponky managed a small smile in return, feeling a little sick.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Ponky turned around, carefully opened the door, and walked out into the shop’s main room. Pinkie Pie slid past him and opened the shop door for him. Ponky stepped into the night, numb to the chill air.
“Good night, Ponky,” whispered Pinkie Pie.
“Good night, Pinkie.”
Props trotted through Ponyville, heading for his home a few blocks away from the theater. He hummed one of Ponky’s overtures from the performance tonight, smiling to himself. It had been a successful night! The theater had made some bits, the foals had done an amazing job, things were ready for the next night’s performance, and...
Props chuckled. “Good luck with that mare, Ponky,” he murmured to himself, grinning for his friend’s success.
He arrived at his home street and spotted a shape sitting on his doorstep, in front of his house. Approaching, he finally was able to discern a shape. Props stopped, blinking hard. “Ponky?”
The shape sniffled, chuckling. “Hey Props.”
Props cringed, hearing the crack in his friend’s voice, the upset tone. “What are you doing here?”
Ponky sat up, wiping at his eyes. “Sorry... I just... I needed somepony to talk to right now.”
Props approached his front door and unlocked it, before stepping inside to turn on the light. “Yeah, okay. Come on in, it’s freezing out here.”
He turned and took in Ponky’s tear-stained face and with a wince, and held the door open for his crying friend. “Let’s talk.”
- End of Chapter 3 -