Manehatten.
Even growing up in a bustling city like Canterlot could not compare to the sheer scope of Manehatten. The streets were different. Instead of cobblestone, there was cement and paved blacktop. Where Canterlot sprawled organically with buildings changing within the same block as trends waxed and waned, Manehatten was the picture of planning. Buildings rose to unbelievable heights. Even the tallest building in Whinnyappolis was only about average in the city that never sleeps.
Open Schedule, as usual, wasted no time in leading the way out of the station. It seemed no matter what city, she was always able to immediately blend in with the locals. No matter the distance, she always knew where she was going. It was amazing and intriguing. She was a hard pony to get to know.
With that in mind, I drew a breath and decided to try again as she hailed a cab. “Open, can I ask you something?”
In record time, Open stepped into a carriage and waved me in. “You just did. Jump in the cab. You remembered to grab your writing bag?” I held it up. “Good, we don’t need another Baltimare incident.”
“The article got turned in on time.” I said defensively as I stepped up into the cab.
Open rolled her eyes and gave the directions to the cabby. When she turned back, she continued our conversation. “I’d rather not have to use two high speed pegasus couriers again. The cost alone was a pain.”
“I promise this won't be like last time.” I sighed.
Silence fell between us. I took the opportunity to look around like a tourist. Everything was so close together. Ponies were everywhere in a chaotic jumble of Equestrian society. It was all a little too much. I'd heard of ponies going through immersion therapy, but this was less immersion and more drowning.
Open sighed. “I know we’re supposed to be professional, but it seems like our conversations are only ever about work.”
“What do you want to talk about?” I asked, eager to take my mind off of the current situation.
“I don’t know.” Open replied. That was helpful. I thought. I wasn’t exactly the type of pony to come up with a topic of conversation. Not to mention I knew next to nothing about Open.
For the second time, it got quiet. This time, it was awkward.
After wracking my brain I threw out the first thought that cropped up. “Um…what did you do before this trip?”
“Organize the schedule for this trip.” She answered plainly.
I laughed. “Okay, before that.”
“I had to talk multiple editors to get writers to take on this trip.” She had to be making this difficult on purpose, right?
I snorted rudely. “Why did you go through all that trouble?”
“You know what sets Trenderhoof apart from other fashion writers?” I shook my head. “He started out in travel. Even when he transitioned to fashion trends, he continues to travel. What’s more, he loves it.”
A spark caught in mg brain. “Do you know Trenderhoof?”
She opened her mouth to answer, but stopped herself. Her expression soured before she caught herself and switched back to her default aloofness. “I don’t know him all that well.”
I wasn’t sure what to make of that. “So, you’ve met him?”
She turned her head away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Idly, I slipped in a last comment. “I take it he’s not as nice as he seems?”
She snapped back. “He's too nice. Now drop it.”
I shrugged my shoulders and raised both hooves. “You’re the one who brought him up!”
She sighed in exasperation. “Only to illustrate a point. The upside to Trenderhoof's wanderings is that he gets to see the full spectrum of experiences across Equestria. There tends to be a metaphorical bubble around Canterlot. I want to burst that bubble now and again to let a breath of fresh air in.”
As tempted as I was to ask what the downside to Trenderhoof’s travel pattern, I gave up and followed her to a new subject. “So you see Canterlot as stale?”
Open nodded. “At times, yes. Not to mention the near-toxic attitude of certain well-to-do ponies.”
“I'd noticed that.” I tried not to relive certain things over the last few weeks.
She took a deep breath and the exhaled. “Well, I’m trying to change that attitude. If not for this generation, then definitely the next. If I can gather the best stories and bring them back, maybe ponies will be more open-minded.”
“Look at you, a romantic at heart after all.” I smiled.
Open frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”
I held my hooves up placatingly. “Sorry, bad joke. I just wouldn’t have pegged you as the type of pony to have a cause.”
She regarded me seriously. “One day you'll find that labels, types, and causes are nonsense. Your rational mind attempts to neatly order an irrational world and dumps ponies and their motivations into these neat little boxes. In reality, nopony is as they seem at first. Everypony has a history, even if their story isn't the one being told.”
The cab stopped and she looked expectantly at me. Shaking myself, I stepped out first and turned back to offer her a hoof. She handed me my bag instead; I’d left it on the seat.
She turned to give directions to the driver. It sounded like she was heading shopping. “Wait, you’re not coming with me?”
“You’re a big colt. I trust you can handle this assignment. The details are in this envelope.” She placed the envelope in my still upturned hoof. Stepping into the sidewalk, I watched as her cab joined and melded into the sea of other carriages.
I opened the envelope with my magic and pulled out the letter inside. Printed neatly on one side was two simple words. ‘Free Day.’ I facehoofed. She’d gotten me good! I’d totally forgotten that today was a rare day off.
Looking around, I realized she’d dropped me off in downtown Manehatten. Restaurants dotted the first floor retail space around me. There were more than a few clothing shops. The hustle on the street was only moderately less pushy than normal thanks to the surplus of other obvious tourists.
I felt a tug on my shoulder-bag and suddenly, the weight of it was gone! Looking around, I barely managed a glimpse of it. A two-tone earth pony carried it in their mouth as they galloped off nimbly. Giving chase, I focused on casting a holding spell at the first opportunity.
We galloped away from downtown and into an alley. Unfortunately for my bag-snatcher, it was a dead end. I closed in quietly and waited. The colt turned around and nearly ran into me. He cried out in surprise, dropping my bag. I winced as I heard glass break; that had to be an inkpot shattering.
I hurried to save the contents of the bag. The tan and dark brown colt made a dash for the open end of the alley. Before he made it five steps, I had him tied up and tethered. Luckily, the ink hadn't done more than stain the lining of the bag and drowned a few quills; my notepad came out clean. I felt a twinge of strain as the colt squirmed and rolled in my magical grip.
Finally, I regarded my would-be thief. "Well, looks like I have a shrimp."
"Yeah, and I'm the shark." A voice behind me called. I caught the look on the colt's face as he gazed over my shoulder. He'd merely been angry while bound by my magic, but with the stallion behind me, he looked truly afraid. "I'd say let him go, but if a tourist like you caught him, I don't know how much use he'll be to me."
"Vinny please!" The colt behind me pleaded. "I can get you the money, I..."
'Vinny' was a black pegasus stallion with one white sock and a face that practically defined the term bad attitude. "Shut it, shrimp. You couldn't get a clue if you had eight hooves and two heads. Useless trash."
"I'm not trash, you white-socked vermin!" The colt spat back. I’d caught a hint of it before, but now I was sure the colt had a southern accent.
"Can you believe the mouth on this kid? These paints have no respect for us regular ponies. Listen up kid, you're dead either way." He threatened.
"Excuse me, but I'm not going to stand here and listen to you threaten a child." I said with more confidence than I felt.
Vinny snorted. "Look here, tourist, you have no clue who you're dealing with. The name's Vindictive Bucker. I'm not the type of pony you want to make angry. Fork over the shrimp and your money and you can go back downtown with your life."
I charged my horn and stomped a forehoof in challenge.
Vinny laughed. "You gotta be joking me. Fine, your funeral."
He launched himself into the air and closed the distance between us. The maneuver was almost too fast to follow, but I'd been expecting it. I rolled to the side and lashed out at his wing with a rear hoof. Vinny cried out in pain as his wing crumpled. I'd have to thank Div for teaching me a few anti-pegasus fighting moves. We wheeled around to face off once again.
"Okay, Vinny. Why don't you leave now while you still have one good wing." I said.
"Don't get cocky, you tourist piece of crap. I'm gonna kill you nice and slow for touching my wing." With that, he charged at me.
I projected a shield that held long enough to give Vinny a nice concussion. As he stepped back, dazed, I turned both rear hooves on him and bucked him back into the alley wall. Vindictive was down for the count.
The colt regarded me with open awe as I walked over and released him. I'd expected him to make a run for it, but instead he shook himself and continued to stare.
I coughed politely. "Don't you have somewhere to be, kid?"
The colt shook his head. "I'm not from around here. My home's in Appleloosa.”
"Appleloosa?” It made sense, given the kid’s accent. “What are you doing in Manehatten?" I asked.
"Ran away." He mumbled, shame-faced. "Then Vinny found me. He helped me out, but then said I owed him. He made me steal things to pay him back. That's why I took your bag, mister. I'm...sorry." He looked like he'd tasted something unpleasant.
I opened my mouth to ask more questions, but Vinny moaned. Looking over at the miserable stallion, I made a decision. "Let's talk about this somewhere less dangerous."
I'd decided on one of the less crowded restaurants on the downtown strip. It was still busy, but not so overwhelmingly loud that I couldn't converse with my young thief.
"My name's Bruiser.” The colt admitted finally. It was a lie from what I could tell, but I was content to have something to call him.
“I'm Blot.” I lied back at him. “Nice to meet you. Now, what can I do to get you back home?”
He looked up at me hopefully for a second before catching himself and frowning. “Why would you help me? I stole from you.”
I waved dismissively. “Considering all I really lost was a pot of ink, I’m not that worried. What I am worried about is that Vinnie finding you again. I don’t think it would go well for you.”
Bruiser put his hooves over his eyes. “I ran away because my parents wouldn’t let me be friends with a normal pony.”
“Normal pony?” I asked, reminded of Vinny’s comment earlier.
“Look at me, Mr. Blot. I’m a paint pony.” He said proudly, puffing up his fluffy chest. In fact, the fur on this colt ran longer on his cheeks, chest, and fetlocks than on a normal pony. The dark brown spots on his coat were cute, especially the one over his eye. “I come from a long line of paint earth ponies.”
“And that makes you different?” I ventured.
“Yes.” He replied, although he didn’t look happy at all about it.
“Where would you go?”
“I don’t know, mister. I know I can’t go back to Appleloosa. My family…isn’t my family anymore. Th-they said th-th-they’d disown m-me if I-I ever left!” The colt could no longer fight it. He broke down into heart-wrenching sobs.
I slid out of my side of the booth and over to his. “May I?” I asked as I held my forelimbs out invitingly. Bruiser buried his face in my chest, his tears soaking through my coat in seconds. I wrapped my forelimbs around him and held him as he cried himself out.
*
As I walked up to Open at the train station, I steeled myself. She was just setting down her last few bags. Her shopping looked like she’d bought half of Manehatten.
“Li-Blot!” She exclaimed excitedly. “You'll never guess what I found in the city!”
I resisted the urge to laugh. “Actually, I can guarantee I found something bigger.”
She snorted. “Puh-lease. What could you have picked up in Manehatten? A new story? Some quills?”
“Bruiser.” I called behind me. The colt had been lagging behind, but I’d threatened to tether him to myself if he didn’t come along on his own. The young paint pony trotted up into view, my bag slung over his shoulder. Well, my old, ink-stained bag. I’d gotten a new one, along with the brown cowcolt hat that Bruiser now wore.
He trotted right up to Open and took his hat in his hoof respectfully. “You must be Ms. Schedule. Mr. Blot said some mighty kind things of you, but they don’t stack up to the pleasure of meeting you.” To complete the southern charm, he took her hoof in his and kissed it.
Her hoof still in his, he turned his green eyes up on her to maximum cuteness. “I promise on my pride as a paint to be the most well-behaved pony on our way.”
Open stared at Bruiser, dumbstruck. She looked at me and shook her head. “Okay, fine, your surprise was bigger.”