//------------------------------// // “I will not hesitate to shove this purse so far up your--” // Story: Misadventures in Manehattan // by The Princess Rarity //------------------------------// EVENT FOUR: Checking Into Work “Manewitz! Pommel!” Both mares froze as they heard their names being called as they entered the hotel at which they worked at. Cautiously, they turned around and noticed their boss standing there, with a big fat cigar between his teeth and his usual grimace shining. “...you’re here early, ladies,” he muttered. “Well, y’know us,” Grace said, with a fake laugh. “Earth pony work ethic and all that.” “Uh-huh,” the bossman replied sarcastically. He gestured to the front desk. “Well, Manewitz, I got some documents in from Prance. I want ‘em translated and on my desk by noon. Pommel, just ‘cause you work part-time on Bridleway now, don’t think I’m kissin’ yer hooves. I still need ya to sew drapes for our upcoming makeover.” Coco and Grace nodded in unison, and let out a sigh of relief as their employer walked off. “He was unusually nice for once,” Grace mumbled. “Normally he yells at us for a good half hour, then accuses us of bein’ late.” She slid behind her desk, plugged into her typewriter and sat down, readying her supplies as she tried to find the documents she was supposed to work on. “I’ll see you at lunch?” Coco said, with a hopeful smile. “If I don’t stab myself with this pencil, then yeah, probably,” Grace replied. She let out a groan and threw up her hooves. “See? I just got to work, and I already hate it.” “Why, good morning, fillies!” a voice called. Coco looked back, while Grace tried to slide underneath her desk, but with no such luck. “Oh, hello, Baymont,” Coco smiled. “I see you there, Gracie~” Baymont practically sang. “Don’t call me that,” Grace deadpanned as she stared at the doorman. “Whatdya want?” “I just came to say hi,” Baymont defended. “Is that a crime?” Grace opened her mouth to make one of her usual smart remarks, when Coco spoke up in her sweet, polite manner. She grinned at Baymont and shook her head. “Not at all,” she assured. Baymont returned the grin to Coco, but it was clearly obvious that his attentions weren’t on her whatsoever -- but rather, her coworker was who he kept staring at. “So, Gracie--” “--Grace. My name is Grace.” “--you look cute when you’re frustrated,” he laughed. “Shut up,” Grace muttered. She crossed her forehooves like a child and glared at him. “Now, I’ll say it again, whatdya want? Are ya just here to bother me, like you do ev’ryday?” “Your words wound me, Miss Manewitz,” Baymont said, with a mock gasp. He placed a hoof to his chest, as if his heart was breaking. “I was simply going to ask how your weekend was, that’s all. Is it wrong for me to enjoy talking to a nice mare like yourself?” “No, you enjoy annoying me,” Grace argued. “And my weekend was fine, thankyouverymuch. Me and Coco here marathoned a bunch of Disneigh movies and I spent Saturday night getting wasted with an old friend of mine. Any other questions? ‘cause unlike you, I got an important job. I don’t just smile and wave to ponies.” Baymont rolled his eyes playfully. “You like playin’ hard to get, I understand that,” he said. Grace frowned. “I like avoiding you,” she shot back. Baymont winked. “Of course you do,” he smirked as he turned around and headed back to his post outside. “Stupid idiot,” Grace mumbled under her breath. She spun around in her chair and went back to focusing on her work, when Coco looked over to her friend and spoke up. “He seems nice -- why are you so rude to him?” she asked. “Meh, I’m rude to everyone,” Grace retorted. “But he’s the main annoyance of my work day.” “Really? How?” Coco inquired. Over the time she had known Grace, she realized that a lot of things easily annoyed her friend. And most of the time, the reasons were often quite strange or made no sense at all. Then again, Coco also learned not to question most things. Grace huffed, and blew her mane out of her eyes. “He’s always winkin’ at me and askin’ me out, he can’t take no for an answer,” she explained. “Also, his voice -- it’s so squawky. I’d rather go out with a parrot.” Coco smiled ever-so-slightly and tried not to say anything. “What? You never smile like that -- what’s goin’ on?” Grace asked. “Nothing,” Coco said innocently. “I better get to sewing those drapes. Have fun translating.” “Yeah, ok,” Grace mumbled, not believing her friend’s words. “I’m onto you, marshmellow!” “Whatever you say!” Coco teased, as she walked off. Grace rolled her eyes. She began to type furiously as she read the Prench documents and squinted at the occasional word or two, but everything was mostly smooth sailing. In all honesty, she rather would have been working for what her cutie mark meant -- writing fiction -- but deciphering was the secondary talent she could fall back on, so this would have to do for now. But maybe, someday, she could write a novel on how a small-town filly rose to fame in the big city… “So, now that we’re alone--” Baymont trilled from the doorway. “--get out,” Grace demanded. “Aw, c’mon, Gracie,” he begged. “Do you want a typewriter thrown at your face, pretty boy?!” she called. Baymont instantly burst into laughter. “My, my, a compliment from you! Pretty boy!” he said. “That just made my week! You finally lettin’ those feelings of yours out, huh?” Grace stiffened her lip. “I was bein’ sarcastic,” she remarked. “I hate you.” Baymont smirked. “Sure ya do,” he said, with a wink. He made his way back over to her desk and leaned over it, much to her obvious discomfort. “So, maybe this weekend, you could have a little more fun? I got two tickets to see Paramare, live in concert on Sunday. You wanna go?” Grace ignored him, and went back to typing, much to his frustration. “You can’t keep running away from me forever,” he argued. “Yes, I can,” Grace said, with a chuckle. The doorbell rang, meaning that a pony was in need of service with their bags. Baymont let out a sigh, and gave a sideways glance to Grace. He leaned forward, and placed a kiss on her cheek. “Think about it?” he asked, sliding the tickets across the desk. “You kiss me again and,” she growled, picking her bag up off of the floor. “I will not hesitate to shove this purse so far up your--” “Ahem!” the customer called. Baymont shrugged. “Can’t blame me for tryin’!” he said as he walked off. Grace eyed the concert tickets and hesitated. He’s got an annoying voice. He’s pushy. His manecut is stupid. He’s been watching me like a hawk since I got here. I don’t like him, she thought. ...yet her words betrayed her. “Hey, pretty boy!” she yelled. Baymont looked away from the customer for a moment, and his grin twitched. Grace’s expression was neutral as she picked up the tickets and waved them. “It’s not a date, just a hangout, capisce?” she said. “Y-yeah, sure!” he smiled. “Pick me up at six.” Baymont smirked. "Wear somethin' pretty," he requested. Grace snorted. "Don't push it," she muttered.