//------------------------------// // Chapter 1: Allegro, the Opening Sonata // Story: Hooves Holding Hearts // by Paleo Prints //------------------------------// Hooves Holding Hearts Chapter 1: Allegro, the Opening Sonata One Hour to Showtime... A hoofstep into the front door, Bon Bon could already smell disaster. “Lyra!” Bon Bon sighed as she undid her saddlebags, relief flowing into her back as they hit the floor. “Lyra, get out of the kitchen!” Silence greeted her as she traversed the living room, which Bon Bon slowly paced through like a drill instructor reviewing her troops. Bookshelf surfaces had been dusted and mostly swept clean of toys (action figures, she imagined Lyra would have corrected). The overflowing mess of the paperback shelf had been mostly whittled down to a tightly shoved-in collection, looking like a mass-market fantasy brick wall built in a hurry. Lyra’s record collection had been straightened from an unruly mess to a slightly ruled mess about to topple into anarchy. Well, she considered, I could be rid of that disaster on any day I choose to remind Cheerilee to check which are hers. As always, the only surface with which the spirit of organization touched was the tiny, glass-doored cabinet filled with chef figurines. It was, not by coincidence, the only thing in the room which was wholly hers. Bon Bon shrugged. Not perfectly baked, but close enough to serve. “Lyra! I know you’re there, Love!” Making her way to the kitchen, Bon Bon gave the immense, stain-scarred dining room table an appraising look. The candelabras were well placed, the four places set, and the patterns matching well. She nodded to herself as she entered the kitchen, steeling herself for horrors. Lyra stood inside, balancing on her hindhooves as she threw vegetables into a pot. Bon Bon saw an onion bulb fly across her vision, cut with the delicacy of one of those retro-horror slasher stories Lyra relished. The cook in question wore a triumphant grin as she stirred the broth with a knife, and Bon Bon twitched as she heard the groaning metal scrape across the bottom of the pot. Compared to the kitchen, Lyra seemed off and out of place. It wasn’t just the two spinning spice racks, whose filing system seemed like calculus to the hapless unicorn. The poor, long-suffering sink was filled with unnecessary dishes and tools, thrown in and replaced instead of washed and put back. This still wasn’t the excluding principle. The ancient bricks of the kitchen were a dusky gray that Bon Bon loved. They spoke of age, family traditions, and old remembered recipes. The kitchen walls represented everything about her art that Bon Bon loved, and her beloved green spouse looked fundamentally out of place inside it, as if a painter started with respectful watercolors and switched to crayons. Bon Bon sighed. “Lyra, I ordered you out of the kitchen.” “Sorry, Bonny.” Lyra turned from the pot, levitating the knife into a pile of instruments without looking, and Bon Bon swallowed as the metal mountain shifted. Holding the cutting tray in one hoof, Lyra used a green forelimb to sweep a jumble of ingredients onto the tray before dumping it into the pot. “I couldn’t hear you over the sound of how awesome a chef I am.” Bonny twitched. “Lyra..." “I started out wanting to make bouillabaisse, because it sounds cool. Bouillabaisse!” Lyra jumped into the air, rattling the kitchen table with a bump. Bon Bon’s internal monologue raised a few decibels as she grit her teeth. “But,” Lyra admitted as she scratched her nose and picked up a hoofful of vegetables, “I must admit, I didn’t know what it was. Cookbook indexes suck, so I picked another recipe. Even threw in some tortillas for a strong base,” she said, using the only one of Bon Bon’s culinary terms she remembered. “The eggs will make this the awesomest gazpacho soup ever.” Bon Bon blinked before snorting and giggling simultaneously. Helpless with laughter, she fell to the side, narrowly managing to avoid hitting the fridge with her head. Lyra scowled. “Do I detect doubt in your voice?” Fighting through the wheezing, Bon Bon rolled onto her stomach while supporting her head on her hoof. “Stringbean, you’re adorable. Gazpacho soup is a vegetarian soup.” Lyra returned her gaze briefly before returning to the pot. Her horn flashed, pulling out a half-dozen uncooked eggs and dumped them into a nearby bowl with a splash. “There. It’s still simmering nicely.” “It’s also prepared without heat,” Bon Bon said as she stood up. Lyra deflated, a bashful expression crawling into her features. “It’s... griffon cold fusion cuisine gazpacho.” She sighed as she leaned back onto her haunches. Bon Bon planted a kiss on her nose. “Honey, it's cute. I know you want to show off today. Let me in there, and I just might be able to salvage it.” "No way," responded Lyra. “I'm showing how good a husband I am.” “Wife,” corrected Bon Bon. Lyra grit her teeth. “Husband. You own more aprons.” Bon Bon patted her on the head and sniffed the soup. Her eyes crossed as she waved a hoof in front of her nose. “Greenbean, I wake up in the morning to go to a job. You occasionally tour Canterlot and sleep until noon otherwise. I love you, but I’m the husband and you’re in my kitchen.” “Tonight’s going to be special, and I’m going to help!” Lyra crossed her forelimbs, readying the stare of marital disagreement. “I invoke the roommate agreement.” Lyra’s shoulders sagged. “Bonny, we’re married now!” Bon Bon replaced the scattered cooking utensils with a possessive air. “And where in those touching vows you wrote did we ever repudiate the roommate agreement? My kitchen, Lyra. I remember your cooking. Recall the noodle incident, be any chance?” Lyra stood onto her hooves as she pouted. “You said we’d never speak of that again!” A raised eyebrow was the only response she received. “Lyra,” Bon Bon said in a controlled tone, “you could make a good impression by tidying your Humanworld bookshelf. You don’t want your fairy tales everywhere. Work on your records, too.” Lyra nodded. Bon Bon lifted a mass of unidentifiable plant matter into a wok. She poked at it in a distrustful manner with a chopstick. Lyra bore her defeat with silence as she fled the kitchen. At the last second, she struggled to salvage her flagging dignity. “They’re fantasy novels, not fairy tales.” Bon Bon sighed as she scraped something unidentifiable off the sink. “I know that, dear. Fairy tale books sell for half as much at twice the page count, and they don’t make three new ones a year. Pardon me, I have fifty-three minutes to cook a dinner.” A spicy smell tickled Bon Bon’s nose from across the kitchen. Moving over, she gave a cautious sniff to the bowl in question. Bonny’s eyes widened as she picked up a spoon with her teeth and poked the green and white mass. “Hmm.” A toothy smile grew across her face. “That’s actually usable, Stringbean. Ah, well. Infinite monkeys and typewriters.” Bon Bon clicked her hooves together. “Omelet. Ranchy omelet.” She whistled. “This would work as a side dish.” Bon Bon’s eyes narrowed. “I can cook this in only twelve minutes.” She spun around, lunging at her spice rack like an aging actor for a last award. “Must have chives and paprika!” Through it all, Lyra watched through the doorway with a smile. Upon first meeting the couple, many ponies assumed that their relationship worked because Bon Bon’s level-headed nature kept Lyra’s craziness in check. The pair had rehearsed smiles for the inevitable comment at any dinner party. What most ponies didn’t realize was that two complementary types of insanity balance each other pretty well if one type can pass for sanity. Turning away from the epic feats of food preparation, Lyra closed her eyes. She wasn’t thinking about the “fairy tale” remark, a comment she filed under “Standard Bon Bon Sniping, Topic B.” More personal worries were available to concern herself over. She slowly opened her eyes and cast quick glances around her home, finding fault with everything, everywhere. Lyra rubbed an eye with her hoof as she willed her heart to stop pounding. You’re just nervous about tonight. You’re allowed, after all. Lyra concentrated harder than necessary as her horn flared, rearranging her novels one by one without disturbing the tiny figures set up with care on the shelf. After all, if tonight works, we become parents. ___ Ninety-Seven Days to Showtime Natural selection had left the ancestors of ponies with a tendency to bare their teeth when confronted by a predator. An ancient grunting mesohippus pony confronting a wooly manticore at the front of its family cave would have recognized the terrified smile Lyra displayed now out of cold, sweating terror. The main difference was that Lyra was terrified of a pleasant, bespectacled mare with a clipboard. The oak-paneled walls of the Hooves Holding Hearts foster care service seemed to close in on her as a pleasantly smiling earth pony sat on a stool behind the paper-covered desk. The white-coated mare who held Lyra’s future in her hooves calmly brushed a scarlet curl out of her vision as she scanned the hopeful couple’s application. A tap on Lyra’s shoulder drew her attention to Bon Bon’s reassuring smile. “Hey,” the cheerful mare said with a wink. “Stop fretting. We’re in control.” Lyra nodded with a swallow. A hyperactive imagination trained on composition and amateur fantasy writing tried to rein in thoughts of five possible impending disasters. The earth pony cleared her throat and smiled. “Welcome to Hooves Holding Hearts. I’m Heartmend, and I’m happy to be your case worker.” She tilted her head, continuing her spiel with rehearsed ease. “Have either of your ever been involved with the foster care system before?” Lyra glowered at the question while Bon Bon played diplomat. “We had applied at the Family Fixing Farm Foster Service, but..." “It just might be that we... lacked some of the equipment they were looking for.” “Really.” Heartmend adjusted her glasses. “May I ask what equipment in question it was?” Lyra sighed. “Get me a copy of Playmare magazine and I’ll circle it.” A mischievous grin ran across her face. “Alternately, we could play charades.” Bon Bon nudged her spouse. “I’m sorry,” she said with a practiced feigned calmness, “but they upset my wife.” “Husband,” Lyra said as she lay down and crossed her forelimbs pensively. “Also, there was a thing that may have been important. We had a thing there. With a table.” “Ah.” Heartmend furrowed her brow, quickly jotting down a few notes with a mouth-held pencil before continuing. “Well, I’m glad you’ve survived that initial heartbreak. It’ll make the next few times a bit easier.” Lyra and Bon Bon exchanged a glance. Continuing without missing a beat, Heartmend said “So, how did you hear about us and our practices?” “Well,” Lyra said as she scratched the back of her neck, “two of our close marefriends have adopted into their families. I understand your agency helped them both with the legal paperwork.” She sat up straighter. “We’re both so very happy to meet you for this opportunity.” She stretched out a grin just wide enough to swallow a foal.  Heartmend raised a skeptical eyebrow and looked at Bon Bon, who returned a slightly more uncomfortable smile that would still have left most ponies vaguely uneasy and thinking of manticores. “Misses and Misses Sweetie Drops,” she started, “I’d like to know just why you entered the foster care system.” Heartmend noticed Lyra almost imperceptibly lean toward Bon Bon, breathing deeply as their shoulders touched. Bon Bon responded with a gentle nuzzle across Lyra’s cheek before turning to Heartmend, who had the decency to pretend to be idly looking at a framed display of thank-you notes. “My... spouse and I are a family,” Bon Bon said as she skirted Lyra’s favorite pet argument. “We moved in together into her tiny, overpriced studio before buying our own home. We’re on our hooves financially.” Straightening her posture, Bon Bon presented a triumphant smile. “If we’re living our lives in order, I want to take the next logical step for a family, and that’s having children in our lives.” Heartmend nodded. “Miss Heartstrings, is that your answer?” Lyra breathed in. “My family sucked,” she said quickly with a shudder. She closed her eyes and licked her lips, staying still for a second. Heartmend flashed Bon Bon a worried look during several moments of silence before Lyra continued, eyes still closed. “My father and mother parted ways, leaving my sister and I as the wreckage.” Lyra’s breath was coming in short, rapid gasps. “Is... this too much?” Heartmend carefully stepped off of her cushion, shaking her head. She stepped closer to the couch, drawing herself up into a position of polite attention. “Not at all, Miss Heartstrings. If you can, go on. If you can’t, we can pause for a little while.” “No,” Lyra said as a glowing hoofkerchief pulled itself out of her saddlebags. “They’re not beating me. My sister is the worst, though. Ballad is perfect.” There was a pause. “Go on,” Heartmend said, curiosity flickering in her eyes. Gritting her teeth, Lyra slowly tilted her head from side to side. “She’s just... perfect. She snagged a rich husband. She snagged a stallion husband, and that made my dad even happier. She’s a popular songwriter and playwright, and my little nephew is smart as a tack.” Lyra calmly folded her hoofkerchief and set it down on the couch. Bon Bon wordlessly picked the damp piece of fabric off of the cushion and placed it on her forelimbs. “Miss Heartmend, my sister is everything that would make my parents happy, and she reminds me that I’m not that. My family life was awful.” She sighed. “So, I want to help somepony like that. I know they’re out there. Tartaurus, most of your kids have it much worse off than a spoiled Canterlot girl with a music career. I was lucky; I found a few mares who saved me. I want to save someone.” Heartmend bit her lip. Gently but swiftly, she leaned forward and patted Lyra on the shoulder. “Miss Heartstings, as a professional I have to say that making me like you is not playing fair.” While Lyra froze at the unexpected words, Bon Bon recovered with a snort. “Yeah, she’ll do that every time,” she said with a grin. Heartmend primly nodded and returned to her cushion. “All right,” she said while shuffling papers, “let’s be clear about what we do here. This organization licenses foster parents. That means we take children from untenable situations and place them elsewhere. Often it’s temporary, as the family resolves their problems or finds another relative to become the caregiver. On occasion, when that proves impossible, we move to find adoptive parents for the child. The foster parents are given first shot at becoming the new parents.” She paused, leaning onto her hooves as she crossed them on her desk. “I assume that’s the part you two are interested in?” Lyra’s head bounced up and down emphatically, whereas Bon Bon only gave a pleasant incline. Heartmend smiled. “That’s common. Just remember; that way is a long, twisting path of pitfalls, ambushes, and paperwork.” She leaned back, relaxing on her haunches. “So, tell me about yourselves.” Bon Bon bit her lip and nodded. “Well, I--” “I’m Lyra and this is Bon Bon and we’d make great parents because we’re lovely ponies and...” “Stop.” Heartmind raised an eyebrow at the command from Bon Bon. It was said softly and kindly, but the effect was immediate. Lyra took several deep breaths and looked to her spouse. Bon Bon gave an indulgent smile as she gestured with one hoof. “Now, start over.” Lyra nodded. “Okay. I’m Lyra, and this is my wife Bon Bon.” “Husband,” corrected Bon Bon with a smile. “Overseer.” “Handler.” “My... spouse and I live in Ponyville. I’m a chamber musician with a lot of time on my hands--” “Hooves,” corrected Bon Bon as Heartmend tried to take in the odd dynamic. Normally, when a pair of ponies argued this much in front of her, it was in a custody hearing. For all the back-and-forth sniping, she couldn’t detect any actual tension between the two prospective parents. “... and I,” continued Bon Bon, “work as a chef at a local cafe. I’m hoping one day to run my own restaurant. Part-time, I keep this lunatic in check.” Heartmend nodded without certainty. “So Lyra, I understand you’re under contract to the Canterlot Symphony?” “Yup! I commute during the on-season and play gigs in town in the off-season.” “Just so you know, every time you take a child from Ponyville to Canterlot requires my permission.” Heartmend focused her attention on the unpredictable mare’s body language. The first reaction to the agency’s control was always a telling moment. “Oh.” She scratched behind her ear. “Um. Sure! I mean, it’s for good reasons. You wouldn’t want me to--” “--do anything worrying,” finished Bon Bon, jumping in before Lyra’s imagination ran away with their chances. Heartmend tapped her desk. “Do you have sitters available, such as family or friends?” The couple exchanged a glance that Heartmend wished she could decipher. As she waited for clarification a stallion stuck his head into her office. “Hey, boss? Could you come look at some paperwork for a second?” Heartmend gave her a polite smile that somehow reminded Lyra of inviting caves and howls in the night. “Pardon me, ladies. I’ll be back in just a second. Please wait here.” The moment she left, Lyra scooted over to her spouse. “I’m bucking this up, aren’t I?” “No! Not at all!” Bon Bon prepared herself for the explosion. Lyra smacked a green hoof across her face. “If I buck this up for us, I’m going to kill me and bury me in the back yard.” She bit down on her forelimb, hard. “Stop it!” Bon Bon whispered harshly. “You’re fine. I’m fine.” She pulled Lyra’s leg out of her mouth, noting the reddish area where she was biting. “Now sit with that against a chair or something and calm down!” Lyra nodded, lying on the nearly bruised limb. She started to stammer something before Bon Bon planted a kiss on her nose. Lyra’s eloquent reply came out as “Whuba?” Heartmend opened the door slowly, peeking in. Most ponies would have expected the two strange mares to be at each other’s throats at that point. Instead, Heartmend saw creamy beige lips wrapped around an aquamarine snout. Lyra’s eyes had rolled back in her head as her limp, open mouth tried to make sounds. Bon Bon’s eyes were open, drinking in the sight of her incapacitated lover. Heartmend smiled to herself and gently coughed. Bon Bon met her gaze and removed her mouth from Lyra’s nose before giving it a final quick peck. “Well, are we ready to resume?” The pair nodded, only one of them not wobbling. Heartmend turned away toward her desk, allowing herself a brief and jealous smile before resuming a business-like look. She rested her hooves on each other as she leaned forward. “Now, I believe we were talking about sitters?” Bonny nodded. “Yes, we have a few friends in town who volunteered. We’re close with the mailmare, for one. My parents live close to town, also.” With a nod, Heartmend swivelled to Lyra. “And your parents? When was the last time you spoke to them?” Lyra looked down. “Uh. Pass.” “No,” Heartmend said with finality. The silence blanketed the room. “What?” Lyra finally responded. Heartmend picked up the couple’s papers and balanced them precariously on the side of her desk. “Miss Heartstrings,” she began with a long-suffering tone, “you do not get to ‘pass’ here.” Bon Bon was surprised at the lack of friendliness in Heartmend’s smile. “I expect you to tell me everything I ask, Miss Heartstrings, or I will,” she said gesturing to the tottering paperwork, “tip your papers into the trash and call it a wash. I’m placing a child in your care, not a gerbil. You will tell me more about your parents, your favorite foods, which sister you pray to, if any, and how you decide who gets the bathroom first in the morning.” She paused. “I like you. That’ll only get you so far, though.” Bon Bon open her mouth to no avail. She turned, seeing that Lyra was shaking. Seconds passed. “Well,” Heartmend said with a shrug, “I’m sorry that--" “My father ruined my life and first love for his family ambition. My mother strapped on a cute little saddle and allowed herself to be ridden all the way up the social ladder. Both live in Canterlot. I love pungent cheeses and peppers that make me fart interesting smells. A close friend introduced me to Luna at a work-related thing, and I respect how she hurts inside and gives so much to others. This cream-coated harpy always wakes up earlier than me.” She drew a deep breath. “Are we good?” Heartmend blinked. “Are you good?” “I want this, Miss,” said Lyra with almost no choking. “I want this so much I cry into my pillow at night when I worry that this won’t ever work out for us. I cry because I fear I’ll screw it up.” Heartmend stared at her for a long time. Finally, she nodded with the first genuine smile Lyra and Bonny had seen her give. She gently picked up their papers and reopened it. “Let’s work through these questions, then. Any past criminal history?” Bon Bon nervously shrugged. She turned to Lyra, her heart stopping and imagination racing as she waited to hear Lyra say... “Nothing that stuck, no.” “Nope, and thank Celestia for juvenile sealed files!” “They had it comin’!" “No.” Bon Bon blinked. Lyra gave her a quick hoof gesture under the visual level of Heartmend’s desk that she always confusingly referred to as a “thumbs up.” Bonny saw that Heartmend noticed the pause, but for some reason the caseworker declined to comment. “There’s a strict rule for all of our parents prohibiting the use of physical discipline. I hope that shouldn’t be a problem. Are the both of you all right with that?” Bon Bon nodded. “Of course,” she said as she shot a look at Lyra. The moment of silence extended. “Miss Heartstrings?” Heartmend shifted on her stool. “Is there some kind of issue?” Elsewhen, the angry mint teen shattered the bottle with telekinesis, roaring in rage as shattered it on the bar. Nervous patrons stepped away as the bartender took cover from the livid unicorn. A dark red mare with a teased mane and lightning bolt earrings tried to hold Lyra back from the three shocked ponies she was shouting at. “Come on, then!” Lyra snarled through gritted teeth. “Say that again to her face!” Lyra’s ears could hear Cheerilee making sounds with her mouth, but her brain was too angry to translate her marefriend’s words. Cheerilee was trying to pull Lyra away as the bartender galloped into the back. “Ly-Ly, let’s go!” Cheerilee’s eyes teared up as she strained. “They’re not worth it.” Lyra quivered with rage as the trio of mares pulled back. The one closest to the hovering bottle-end lifted a trembling hoof. “W-we’re s-sorry! We’re leaving!” The bottle flew in place underneath her chin. Cheerilee swallowed, scanning the room for security. Lyra’s grinning face was a rictus of imminent revenge. “I’m sorry, all I heard was the words ‘fillyfooling deviant.’ Care to speak up again?” “Lyra!” The distracted musician snapped out of her memories. She nodded to Heartmend. “Sorry, just remembering something. I thought Bon Bon said it all. No anger problems, not going to nag-slap the kid.” She smiled pleasantly. “Next point?” Heartmend sighed as she leaned back in her chair. Crushing those hopeful smiles was a regular duty in her office. “Let me be brutally honest; I’m not here to help you. I’m here to help the children. Our goal is always the reunification of the family. I might be rooting for you personally, but unless the parent is an active pyromaniac cultist of Discord who’s been caught twice, blood trumps love. You only adopt if the family renounces all claim to the child.” She leaned onto her desk with both hooves. “I will most likely break both of your hearts time and time again before you’re ever offered the opportunity to adopt. As long as we’re clear on that, we can begin.” As the two mares contemplated this, Heartmend leaned back and continued. “There’ll be classes for you take. You’ll also be asked to attend certain group meetings and submit your house to a safety check. We’ll interview your friends and family. I hope you’re prepared to write a concise life story. Any questions? Ready to give up yet?” Lyra leaned in. “Are you trying to scare us?” Heartmend cheerfully nodded. “Is it working?” Lyra sat up onto her haunches and stared into the case worker’s eyes. Bon Bon placed a restraining hoof on her spouse’s back leg. Heartmend beamed. “That’s the spirit! Well then, I need some information on your preferences. So, are we looking for an earth pony, unicorn, or pegasus?” The prospective parents turned to each other in confusion. “I think you misheard,” Bon Bon said after a brief consideration. Heartmend shrugged. “Sorry. Then what are you looking for?” “Wait,” said Lyra, her head still reeling. “We actually get to..." Bon Bon snarled. “We’re here to help somepony in need, not pick out a dress. Our ‘preference’ is a child who we can help.” Lyra quietly ground her hooves together. She resolved to never mention how close she was to voicing her choice. With a sigh, Heartmend took off her glasses. She wiped them with a lacy hoofkerchief covered in long-faded smiling faces. “Listen, most couples come in here with a preference. I’d rather place a child with accepting parents then worry about one more thing that can go wrong. Look, do you want to at least settle on an age? Most of the time we can find relatives who are willing to take a baby. It’s not the same for a preteen or a teenager. Tiny fillies are rare unless you’ll take an earth pony. ” Bon Bon rolled her eyes. “I happen to be an earth pony, you know!” “So am I,” said Heartmend, “but I’m also a realist. Most prospective parents want horns and wings.” Bon Bon stood up, turning to Lyra. “I may be a businessmare, but this shouldn’t feel like shopping and selling. I’m..." She rolled around the next thought in her head. “I need to step out. I might be forever. Want to come?” Lyra looked down. “I want the kid who doesn’t have a chance.” Heartmend blinked. “Pardon me?” “Not yet, but I might,” Lyra said with a smile. “I want the kid who’d most need us. I don’t care if they're a minotaur or a changeling. I want the desperate ones.” Bon Bon’s lips moved quickly before actually producing a noise. “Um. I think I’ll sit back down, if that’s okay.” Shrugging, Heartmend gestured to the couch. “Fine with me. I get that reaction twice a week. Now, I think I have someponies who could use your help. Lets get your licensure out of the way and then we can talk. That is, if you don’t mind working with a heartless manipulator like me.” Lyra stood up and offered a hoof to shake. “No problem, as long as you don’t mind working with... ponies like us.” “Well, let me be... straight,” Heartmend said as she averted her gaze. “I had some compunctions about working with ponies like you. My main job is helping the child, though. You’re free to live your life with the incorrect lifestyle choice of working for the Canterlot Symphony.” The simmering rage building inside Lyra transformed into giggles. “You... you’re a Torchy!” “Trottingham Orchestra all the way,” Heartmend said as she lifted a record jacket out of her paperwork pile. Bon Bon raised an eyebrow. “I never would have expected you to like classical.” As she answered, Heartmend walked across the room to a bin marked “Prospective Parent Paperwork.” “In a proper orchestra, everything comes together. I find that relaxing.” She carefully bit down on a packet of forms just slightly smaller than Celestia’s autobiography would be and dropped them on the couch between the shocked couple. “Are we ready to begin, Misses and Misses Sweetie Drops?” “No way,” Lyra said with a puckish smile as she watched Heartmend’s mental gears visibly grind to a halt. “Wha... Celestia’s flank, what now?” Bon Bon facehooved, already dreading the expected comment. With an air of victory, Lyra levitated a pen off of Heartmend’s desk and flipped open the packet. “It’s Misses and Misses Heartstings,” she said with a toothy smile. “Now, let’s get started.”