//------------------------------//
// Chapter 5 
// Story: Sinister Lenses 
// by Osper 
//------------------------------//

	
Chapter 5


The next morning brought the unusual combination of Scratch and elder Finish together. Scratch shambled out of the couch nest she'd made from all the blankets she'd been given and, still wrapped up against morning chill, she'd gone into the kitchen to find Faux already cooking breakfast for three.
It was plain to see how tired the insomnia suffering mare looked now that she'd removed her make up. Dark circles had formed under her bloodshot eyes but she put on a big smile when her daughter's guest walked in.
“<Hello Scratch dear. Have a seat.>”
The blanket covered pony rubbed her eyes, attempting to clear her bleary vision enough to see the table. They'd stayed up late into the night, discussing their respective arts and keeping the sleepless mare company until she finally sent them to bed, not wanting them to be too tired for the carriage trip.
Scratch was sure Faux hadn't slept at all. The swish of brushes and the creak of worn bed springs would occasionally sound from the painter's room until Scratch had put on her ear phones to drown it out.
Mrs. Finish set down a hot plate of pancakes in front of the mare and plucked the glasses from the unicorn's head where they usually rested against her horn. They were left next to the plate.
“<No glasses at the table dear.>”
“<Yes Mrs. Finish. Are you do alright?>”
She nodded as she sipped at her coffee even though she clearly wasn't doing too well. 
“<Don't you worry about me. I've been on jobs that required me to be awake much longer than this.>”
As they sat there together in the quiet of early morning with fresh pancake smell wafting through the air, Scratch realized she had the rare opportunity to pry into her friend's past.
Casually levitating her knife and fork and slicing up the pancakes, she tried to make her question seem casual.
“<So, Mrs. Finish, what your husband do?>”
The older mare looked at her over the edge of the paper she had pulled off her front step and grinned sympathetically.
“If it'll make you feel better, we can speak Equestrian.”
Scratch's mouth fell open, a bit of pancake falling back onto her plate when she heard the clear and articulate words come from her friend's mother. Faux closed the shocked DJ's mouth as the sight of mashed food was rather disgusting.
“But...Photo can barely...”
Faux waved a hoof, dismissing the surprise the other mare was experiencing.
“My mother and father were good speakers. My father was an actor and my mother a singer. Good speaking is in my blood. Photo got the bad side of her father's mouth when she was born. He couldn't even learn Equestrian so, in a way, she's actually very lucky to have gotten as far as she did.”
Scratch nodded, coming up with her own idea.
“And you don't speak Equestrian in front of her because it makes her feel bad.”
“Right.”
So, her father didn't have much of a speaking voice. That's more than I knew before.
“And what did your husband do that didn't require him to speak the local language?”
Faux folded her paper in half and laid it on the table, focusing all of her attention on Scratch.
“Has Photo volunteered any of this information?”
Scratch shook her head thinking that the mother was a dead end too. The whole family seemed to be very tight-lipped about the past.
“Then I can't tell you anything about her relationship with him. It's not my place. But, if you'll do me a favor, I can tell you something about him that doesn't involve her.”
Without waiting for a response, Faux passed an envelope that rattled with the sound of bits.
“That's for my husband's funeral. I know Photo won't take it since she thinks that she's the only one with spare cash but it's my husband that's being buried. It's my responsibility. So you take this and make sure it gets used.”
The envelope floated into the air courtesy of Scratch and out through the doorway to the living room. It nestled safely into the bag the unicorn had brought.
“Not a problem. I know how she is.”
Faux listened for a moment to the quiet of the house. It wouldn't do to have Photo walk in on them even if she wasn't saying anything all that bad.
“Well, my husband was an earth pony named Silver Salt and, I hope we don't have an argument when I say this dear, he was an occult researcher.”
Scratch squinted one of her big red eyes in ignorance.
“Why would I argue?”
Only moments after saying it did she realize what she, in her tolerance of all view points and ponies, had forgotten from her grandfather's old bigoted stories about the past.
“Oooooh, right. Unicorns used to have a big problem with any other ponies trying to use or study magic. I'm not really much of a magic user anyway so I never attended magic school or got involved in all that history and politicking.”
Mrs. Finish ruffled the unicorn's hair and continued, at ease with the her lack of prejudice.
“Well, that's what her father did for a living. I was working, trying to buy a house and always on a job. It was easier to save money with just myself so I left Photo with her dad who didn't have many expenses due to his constant moving and just plain being chintzy. He would occasionally send money to help me and pictures of Photo. I think he knew how unhappy she was with him. It was the only time I'd ever seen him voluntarily part with so much money so she could come back here.”
“How long was she with him?”
“Only a year, from age nine to ten. I'd always known my husband was a bit hard to get along with. I knew he was weird too, always chasing magic charms and traveling to haunted locations but when I was young I thought it was sort of romantic, like an adventure every day. But it was only after she came back and I saw how scarred she was from that single year that I realized what he was really like and how badly I'd failed as a mother...”
Faux stared intently at her cup of coffee, rotating it back and forth as she concentrated on it.
“What did he DO to her? I mean, it wasn't...he wasn't a mole-”
Faux rapidly shook her head, quickly quelling that vile notion.
“Not at all. But that's where I can't tell you anything else. It's Photo's story and I won't tell it if she doesn't want it known. I was just very glad when I saw that she had a friend like you. She's always had trouble connecting with others and I know how those rich circles work. Not much sincerity or closeness. Take care of my daughter, okay?”
Scratch nodded, feeling that she had been given a great deal of trust from the older mare.
“Don't worry, I'll look after her. I really like Photo.”
Faux took a small sip from her cup, her next question a little quiet as she leaned over to ask.
“But you're not...uh...together...?”
“No. We're not a couple.”
“Okay. Just checking, just checking.”
The click of approaching hooves warned them that their discussion was over and Scratch would learn nothing else right then.
“Hello everyvun.”
Sleepy Photo Finish walked into the kitchen wearing her wrinkled purple PJs that were just a bit big on her, her glasses in the same place they always were. She went straight for the coffee mugs and poured a cup of warm coffee which she sipped at as she sat down at the table with them. Pancakes were offered and refused, instead going to Scratch's plate.
“I sink I'd like to get dis over vith as soon as possible. Ve'll be leafing after breakfast, okay Scratch?”
Scratch nodded, her mouth too full to respond.
“Und mama, I'm not taking any money from you for de burial, especially if you have to pay for your treatment.”
Photo missed the little wink her mother gave Scratch over her cup.
“<Okay, I won't give you any money.>”
She had been expecting a fight from her mother but merely considered it good fortune that for once she'd won an argument.
“Vell, good. Den ve should leaf right after breakfast. I sink ve'll be back de day after tomorrow, right mama?”
She'd picked up a letter from a stack on the counter and handed it to her daughter. 
“<Seems about right. That letter came from the town coroner who's holding the body. Like I said when I wrote you, it's a small college town called Sleipnir's Rest. I don't know what he was doing there but it's about a day's ride south and another back if you take the stage coach.>”
The wall clock chimed and conveniently alerted the group to the 9 AM time.
“<You girls had better get going or your ride is going to leave without you.>”
It didn't take any time at all for the girls to get ready. Finish simply changed back to her usual clothes and they grabbed their bags as well as accepting the lovingly made bag lunches Faux had readied for them.
Last goodbyes were said on the stoop, the girls expecting to be back soon to spend more time with the caring older mare who had shown them a warm welcome. They were quickly off towards the coach station.