One of the necessary traits required by any Wonderbolts Captain is the ability to keep cool and maintain a level head in the face of any news, no matter how surprising or gut-wrenching. Ponies of that calibre were expected hold their emotions back so that rational thought could prevail.
Spitfire sucked in a breath and held it in her chest. She fought against her rising temper, trying to marshal her thoughts into order. She was a Wonderbolt Captain. Calmness, clarity of thought, and a steady hoof were only to be expected.
“What do you mean I’m stuck in Ponyville?!”
All around her, ponies winced. Rapidfire shrunk down, making himself as small as possible, while Blaze and Fleetfoot pinned their ears back and refused to meet her eyes. Even Soarin took a step back at the lashing fire that accented her voice like a whip.
“Well, just that, Spits,” Soarin said, looking to the side. “You’re not being discharged anytime soon.”
Resisting the urge to bare her teeth, Spitfire focused her glare on her Lieutenant. “And you were planning on telling me when?”
Soarin flinched. As close as they may be, when Spitfire meant it, she could still instill the fear of Tartarus in her ponies. He looked over to the others, his teammates, for help.
“It’s not that we weren’t going to tell you, Sis,” Blaze started, biting her lip and flicking her tail over Fleetfoot's. “We just weren’t sure how.”
“We figured you were going to freak out no matter what we did,” Fleetfoot added, ducking her head as Spitfire shifted her blazing eyes towards her. “And we didn’t want you to hurt yourself more or something by giving you a heart attack.”
“We’re sorry, Spits.” Rapidfire swallowed, shifting so that Soarin stood between him and Spitfire. “But your wings are clipped. You’re stuck here.”
“The hay I am! It’s one thing to be grounded, but there’s no way I’m sitting here while the rest of you try to finish the tour without me!” Growling, Spitfire pushed herself up, her healthy wing threatening to unfurl.
Or, at least she tried to. The second her hooves hit the mattress, a stronger hoof pressed down on her shoulder and pinned her back to the bed.
“Wha—hey!” Spitfire struggled, but as tired as she was her legs didn’t want to cooperate. The best she managed was a wiggle. “Let me go! If you think these featherheads will last a week without me, then you’ve got no idea what kind of foals I have to work with! I need to be there!”
“What you need is rest,” Redheart said, her hoof holding firm. Her tone was rigid, brokering no argument and her piercing blue eyes were just as unyielding. With just one sentence and that look, she doused the indignated fire fueling Spitfire's words. “And if you keep this up, then you’ll only prolong your recovery time.”
“But—but the routine!” Spitfire ceased her struggles and felt her ears pin back. The longer she stared into those brilliant eyes, the more she felt the fight seep out of her body. Fatigue settled in its wake as Redheart’s hoof eased her back down. “Who’re they going to get to replace me and train to do my part?”
What looked like a coy grin flickered across Redheart’s face for a second or two. “I’ll have to ask your teammates to confirm, but I believe one of my regular patients was recently accepted to the Wonderbolt reserves.”
“That’s right,” Soarin said, stepping into sight over the nurse’s shoulder. He chanced a look at Spitfire and met her gaze with a pained smile. “After I talked with Nurse Redheart, the Doc, and Princess Twilight about it, I went and found Rainbow Dash. It wasn’t hard; she was in the waiting room with the rest of the team.”
“The rookie?” Spitfire’s brows knit. “I—yeah, good call on that one, but who gave you the authority to make that decision without talking to me first?”
“We may not act like it all the time, but we are technically a branch of the military, Spits. With you out of commission, I take over.” His shoulders rolled as he sighed. “I hated signing off on benching you to Ponyville, but I needed to. If we’re getting you back, we can’t settle for anything less than you at your best, which means staying here to get better.”
“Lieutenant Soarin is right, Spitfire,” Redheart said with a small smile to the stallion. “Doctor Horse will tell you the same. Right now, it’s best that you stay here and don’t move around too much.” Her hoof brushed down Spitfire’s shoulder, a comforting gesture that threatened to flutter her feathers. “All the moving around and jostling of a train would likely make for complications.”
Moving cautiously, the rest of her friends drew in closer around her. “If you’re really looking for somepony to blame,” Fleetfoot said, hazarding a cheeky grin, “then blame Princess Twilight. She pretty much ordered that you stay here until you’re all patched up.”
Spitfire snorted. “Gee, thanks, Princess.”
“She just has your best interests at heart, Captain.” Redheart’s smile carried into her voice as she backed off to let the others file in around the bed. “Twilight actually feels personally responsible for your crash in a way. She wants to do anything and everything in her power to help in your recovery.”
Spitfire frowned. “That’s ridiculous. None of what happened was her fault.”
“That’s not the way she sees it.” An empathetic warmth radiated off of Redheart as she trotted around to the foot of the bed. “She, like your team, is worried about you. They all want what’s best for you, which is why they all agree that you need to stay here and get healthy. And,” she added, looking at the clock on the wall, “it’s why they’ll leave now to let you get your rest.”
A murmuring of agreement followed from the four pegasi. With tired, sympathetic smiles they all took turns wishing Spitfire a good night. Before they left, Rapidfire and Blaze each gently hugged their sister.
“We’ll be back in the morning to say goodbye,” Rapidfire said, rubbing her cheek to Spitfire’s. “I heard Misty went out to buy a big ‘Get Well’ card today. There might also be cake.”
Redheart cleared her throat and gave a solemn shake of her head.
“Okay, no cake, but definitely a card.”
Resting a hoof on his shoulder, Soarin steered Rapidfire away from Spitfire’s bed, nodding his head as he passed. “Come on, Rapid. Let Spits get some sleep and let’s get you back to the hotel before you fall asleep on your hooves.”
As they left, Blaze took her turn, crawling halfway up the bed to carefully wrap her forelegs and wings around Spitfire’s shoulders. “Love you, Sis,” she whispered, sparing a kiss on the cheek. “Get better fast, okay? I don’t know how long Soarin and I can keep everypony in line.”
“We really are a bunch of foals sometimes.” Fleetfoot grinned as she let Blaze lean her weight on her side. “And foals need their momma hen. Got it?”
The corner of Spitfire’s mouth quirked upwards. “Yeah, I got it. Now get out of here. I’m pretty sure you owe Blazey-wazey there a favour.”
“One I’m all too happy to let her collect.” Waggling her ears, Fleetfoot winked and together she and Blaze followed the stallions out, leaving Spitfire alone in the room with Redheart.
Silence fell after the door clicked shut, save for the muffled murmur of activity in the halls. The palest beams of moonlight shone through the window and Spitfire’s gaze followed it to the night sky.
There was no place in Equestria that compared to Cloudsdale when it came to stargazing. With how high up the city was, far and away from the reaching skyscrapers of Manehattan and the snowcapped peaks of Canterlot, nothing came between the pegasi there and the stars. It was, for a lack of a better word, breathtaking.
Looking out to the night sky over Ponyville and the stars twinkling overhead, bathing the now sleepy town in the pale light of the night, Spitfire had to agree that it wasn’t so bad here, either. Her gaze drifted back to her room, following the same shaft of moonlight as it fell over Redheart’s form. Her white coat shone in the light and her bright blue eyes glittered even as she sighed and shook her head.
Not so bad indeed.
“I know it must be frustrating,” she said, turning back to Spitfire. “Believe me, I understand, but you’ll just have to sit tight for now until you’re healthy enough to travel.” The smile she gave her was a little sad. “Ponyville really isn’t that bad. I bet you’ll grow attached to it before long—most ponies who come through here do.”
Exhaling through her nose, Spitfire nodded her head. She tugged at her hospital gown and eyed the bandages wrapped around her foreleg. “Yeah, probably. Seems like a nice enough place.”
“That’s the spirit. You’ll find something to do while you’re here and the time will just fly by.”
A devilish thought took root and Spitfire couldn't help a smirk. “That a fact?”
An absentminded but polite smile spread over Redheart’s face as she busied herself with cleaning up the playing cards still strewn across the bed. “I’m sure something will catch your eye.”
When in Roam. “Maybe something already has.” Spitfire chuckled, eyes lidding. “Or somepony.”
Redheart paused halfway in packing up the cards. She turned her head, expression wary. “Oh?”
“Yeah.” Dropping her voice down to a huskier tone, Spitfire let her eyes rove over the nurse, from the pink bun holding her mane up to her glossy tail and everything inbetween. “If being stuck here means I get to spend more time with you, then I guess it can’t be all bad, now can it?”
A beat of silence passed. There was no way Redheart missed the way Spitfire eyed her up, and she would have to be deaf to have missed the tone in her voice.
Instead of the red dots she hoped to see colouring her cheeks or the telltale brushing of one’s bangs aside when flustered, Redheart just sighed. Spitfire blinked, her composure failing her for a minute.
Brows flattening, Redheart looked up at the ceiling as if sending a silent prayer. The look in her eye was one Spitfire had seen dozens of times at the Academy, usually when some hotshot cadet tried to brown nose their way up through the ranks. Instead of flustered or flattered, she was bored.
Well, what kind of Wonderbolt would she be if she didn't like a challenge?
Setting the deck of playing cards down, Redheart pursed her lips. “Those weren’t the painkillers talking last night, were they?”
Spitfire grinned a wicked little grin. “Sorry, hon. Well, actually, kind of but not really. Drunk mind, sober thoughts.” She chuckled, a low, raspy sound that sent previous lovers’ spines tingling and their knees knocking.
For this mare, though, there was no trembling. That was fine, that would make it all the sweeter when Spitfire had her wrapped up her in wings, squirming as she dotted her neck with kisses and nipped her way down her barrel. “Seriously, though, do they make all the nurses out here like you or am I really just that stupidly lucky?”
“Here we go.” Another sigh fell from Redheart’s mouth and she rubbed her forehead. A pained look washed over her features and she looked at Spitfire with an expression akin to dread. “You’re going to be like this the whole time that you’re here, aren’t you?”
Spitfire shrugged, her grin showing her teeth. “What can I say? You’re hot, and I’m only a pony.” A low sound came from the back of her throat, something between a hum and a purr. “And I can’t decide if you’d look better out of uniform. Think you can help me make up my mind?”
Redheart shook her head. The need for a strong drink was written over her features and echoed in her voice. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Pushing herself up, Spitfire cocked her head to the side. “Look, I’ll give you a couple of options here. You want me to shut my trap and for me to get out of your mane? It’s simple, you just have to put me on a train to Baltimare first thing in the morning with my team—”
“That isn’t happening.”
“—and free yourself of the opportunity of a lifetime,” Spitfire continued, smirking at the interruption. Puffing her chest out and fitting Redheart with the most coquettish look in her arsenal, she jerked her head to the window. “Or, you let me buy you dinner when I get out of here and show you how a Wonderbolt rides.”
Taking a deep breath, Redheart worked her lips into a thin line. Leveling Spitfire with a piercing glare that made her swagger falter, she closed the distance between them and pushed her flat on her back with a firm shove of her hoof. Not with enough force to bring her any harm, but enough to make the message clear: ‘sit down and shut up.’
It was a tactic Spitfire herself had used dozens of times, but one she hadn’t been on the receiving end of it since her days as the team rookie. With her sight dominated by a pair of burning, blue eyes and that hoof’s presence steady on her chest, she found her mouth a little dry.
“That isn’t happening, either,” Redheart said, her tone firm and uncompromising. “What is going to happen is that you’re going to lie here like a good patient, quit running your mouth, and let me treat you, or else I’ll dose you with enough sedatives to knock out a herd of buffalo.”
Spitfire tried to wet her lips and swallowed against a small lump in her throat. The commanding tone of Redheart’s voice left her at a loss for words as her tail swished under her thin blanket.
“Am I being perfectly clear, Captain?”
“Crystal,” she said. Once more, she lidded her eyes. She had found her words, and by Celestia, this mare would be putty in her hooves. “And how’d you know I love a mare who talks dirty?”
If Redheart were a train engine, steam would be coming out of her ears. “For Celestia’s sake.” Releasing her hold on Spitfire, she backed away, eyes alight with a fire Spitfire had seldom seen outside of her Wonderbolts. “You’re impossible.”
A lascivious smile spread Spitfire’s lips.
It didn’t go unnoticed. Wrinkling her snout, Redheart asked, “What now?”
“You’re even hotter when you’re mad.”
Snorting through her nose, Redheart paced to the foot of the bed and picked up Spitfire’s chart in a practiced motion. “And you’re even worse than Rainbow Dash.”
“Heh, always knew the rookie had good taste.” Spitfire hummed, watching Redheart jot something down on the chart with more force than necessary. “But I bet you’re even cuter when you blush. What’s a mare got to do to get you a little hot under the collar, hmm?”
The corner of Redheart’s mouth twitched. “A little tact never hurts. Neither does a little proper flirting, but you seem to possess neither of those qualities.”
Ah ha, there it was. A little carrot like that was all Spitfire needed. An old, familiar smirk took over her smile. “That a challenge?”
“No,” Redheart said, sliding the chart back into place. “That’s me politely telling you to give up whatever this is and behave like the good little filly your mother raised.”
“Hey now, Ma raised a lady killer of a Wonderbolt captain. She’d be ashamed of me if I didn’t get you squirming in my wings!”
“Oh, I’m sure she’d be ashamed, but for different reasons than what you’re thinking.” Trotting over to shut the curtains, she left the room dark save for the fluorescent hum of the lights above. “And even if she wasn’t, I can assure you she was only successful in one of those regards.”
Spitfire chuckled. She was liking this mare more and more. A low, entrancing heat seeped into her voice as she said, “Oh, I am so going to enjoy making you mewl, Red. By the time I clock out of here, you’re going to be begging me for more.”
“I would prefer if you called me Nurse Redheart, or just Redheart if you insist on informality,” she said, trotting away to the door.
“Nah, I like Red better. And leaving already? The night’s still so young!”
Redheart paused at the door long enough to shoot one last, chilling glare over her shoulder. “I have other patients to check up on, and you need your rest. Goodnight, Captain Spitfire.”
“I’d say I hate to see you go, but then that would make me a liar. Ma didn’t raise no liar.” Spitfire waggled her eyebrows, gaze fixed on the slight bobbing of a pink tail and bounce of a white rump. “Though I could say I hate to see you go so quickly.”
“Goodnight, Captain Spitfire,” Redheart said, pulling the door open. “By the way, because of your behaviour, I have revoked your pudding cup rights for the next week. The orderly will see the note I left on top of your chart when they bring in your breakfast tomorrow morning.”
Spitfire felt her jaw drop. “You’re not serious.”
“Aren’t I?” The usual mask of calm, patience, and understanding slipped away from Redheart’s face, leaving what could only be called a smug grin in its place. “Goodnight, Captain.”
The door shut, leaving Spitfire alone. She gaped, staring after the nurse who captivated her so.
Oh.
Oh, this was going to be fun.
The next morning found Spitfire sitting up in her bed, the remains of her breakfast littering a tray on her bedside table. Light seeped through the gaps between the closed blinds of her hospital room window. Somewhere outside, a bird chirped its morning song as it flew by.
Inside, Blaze stood by the foot of the bed. With her Wonderbolt flight suit on, she looked every part the senior sergeant that she was with the exception of how she had her lips sucked in between her teeth. The way her cheeks began to puff up with restrained laughter was also a breach in professionalism, one that their former Captain wouldn’t stand for.
Spitfire, for her part, stared unbelievingly at the cartoonishly large card dropped in her lap. A young pegasus with a watermelon-sized head compared to the rest of its little body looked back up at her with googly eyes, set against a pale blue backdrop. A wobbly line was drawn where its mouth should have been and it cradled its bandaged wing in its hooves. Squiggly lines radiated out from the pegasus and tear drops the size of raisins hung off of either one of its eyes.
The top of the card read in all capital, pink bubble letters, ‘GOT A BOO-BOO?’
A snort escaped Blaze’s lips, and she clamped a hoof over her muzzle.
Spitfire glared up at her. Her expression must have been priceless, given how Blaze’s wings twitched and fidgeted as she struggled to keep them pinned to her sides. “Blaze—”
“Before you say anything!” Blaze cut in, visibly fighting to keep the mirth from her voice. A few giggles slipped through, raising Spitfire’s hackles. “Open the card.”
Through narrowed eyes, Spitfire tried to get a read on her sister. “Why?”
“Just do it,” Blaze said, pointing at the card. “The whole team signed it! You wouldn’t want to hurt their feelings over a little paranoia, would you?”
“Okay.” Spitfire grabbed the edge of the card. She hesitated and spared one more glare for Blaze. “But if anything explodes or jumps out at me, you’re officially demoted.”
“On my honour as a Wonderbolt,” Blaze said, crossing her heart and saluting with a wing, “nothing will explode.”
Spitfire continued to glare for a second before nodding. “Fine.” With only a little trepidation, she opened the card. Her brow went from furrowed to flat. “Seriously?”
The inside of the card was indeed signed by the whole team, including the roadies, support crew, and even Rainbow Dash. What really caught her was the illustration in the middle. There, the same pegasus from the front smiled up at another figure. The other figure wore a nurse’s cap and held the pegasus’ injured wing in its hooves.
The second figure—the nurse—was kissing the pegasus’ wing as a parent kisses their foal’s scraped knees after slipping on the playground. The pegasus, in turn, was smiling up at the nurse, two bright pink dots colouring its cheeks. Surrounding the two figures, the card read ‘DON’T WORRY, THE NURSE WILL KISS IT BETTER!’
Spitfire scowled at the little pegasus, so happy and eager to have the nurse kiss its boo-boo. “Why do you guys hate me?”
“W-well, we just r-really wanted to—wanted to—Pffft!” That was as far as Blaze got before she succumbed to the laughter bubbling up in her voice. At the look on Spitfire’s face, she threw her head back and howled. “Oh my gosh! Your face!” She fell over on her side, hind legs kicking the air and her forelegs wrapped around her barrel. “I-I can’t breathe!”
“Yeah, laugh it up. Har-dee-har-har,” Spitfire deadpanned, tossing the card to the end of her bed. “You’re a real riot.”
Blaze continued to cackle, writhing around on the floor until the door opened. Nurse Redheart stepped in, eyes snapping from Spitfire’s scowl to the pony laughing her head off. With a snort, she closed the door louder than necessary. “Enough!”
In an instant, Blaze was on her hooves, standing at attention, her shoulders squared. “Yes, ma’am!”
“Sergeant Blaze,” Redheart started, walking towards Spitfire’s bed. “I have already told you once that I will not tolerate anything bringing discomfort to my patients. That, and your laughter is disturbing other patients in the whole hall!”
Spitfire took great comfort in watching Blaze gulp and delighted in the tremor that shook her voice. “I-I apologize, ma’am! It won’t happen again, ma'am!”
“Good, because if I have to tell you off again, I will remove you from the hospital grounds. Personally, if need be.” The threat was convincing enough to make Blaze stand rigid. Under her flight suit, Spitfire knew sweat started to bead up on her brow.
“Understood! I was just saying goodbye to my sister on behalf of the whole team.”
At that, Spitfire wrinkled her snout. A sour taste built up in the back of her mouth, dragging her ears down against her mane. Her gaze dropped to the get well card on her bed and she counted each name scrawled on it. They covered almost every inch of the card with their best wishes. Altogether, over two dozen names.
Altogether, over two dozen ponies leaving her behind.
She was jolted from her thoughts by a pair of forelegs wrapping around her shoulders. “See you later, Spits,” Blaze said. “We’ll all miss you. The rest of the tour just won’t be the same.”
Spitfire returned the hug, nuzzling into the fire-red streak of mane that poked out from Blaze’s suit. She bit her tongue, willing the tears from her eyes before they could fall.
“You going to be okay?” Blaze asked as they ended the embrace. Her eyes searched Spitfire, concern bleeding through the hood of her uniform.
Blinking hard, Spitfire rubbed her face and put on a grin. “Please, this is nothing. I’m more worried about the rest of you jokers.” She fiddled with the hospital band around her ankle. “Are you sure Rainbow Dash is going to be ready to go on tour?”
“Don’t worry about her. Fire Streak’s been working her through the routine the last couple days non stop with Silver and Wave. I think he’s planning on having the poor girl recite it in her sleep by the time we make Baltimare.”
Spitfire nodded. Fire Streak was one of the best instructors the Wonderbolts had ever seen, and there was talk that he planned on retiring to teach at the Academy full-time sooner or later.
“Sergeant Blaze, I hate to interrupt, but I believe you’re going to miss your train if you don’t hurry,” Redheart said, her voice much smoother and kinder than it was moments ago. She walked to the pegasus’ side and put a comforting hoof on her shoulder. “We’ll take good care of her.”
“Yeah, I know you will.” Blaze gave Redheart a smile and nod of thanks before skipping to the side to quickly hug Spitfire. “Catch you on the flip side, Spits.”
Spitfire squeezed back. “Later, B. Keep an eye on Rapid for me, and be good to that mare of yours. She is one my best friends, you know. Oh, and say goodbye to the rest of the team for me, too.”
“Will do.” Snapping a salute, Blaze pulled her goggles down over her eyes and turned for the door. She lingered in the doorway for a second and caught Spitfire’s eye. She jerked her head at Redheart and mouthed out, “Behave.”
Spitfire stuck her tongue out at her sister in response, who simply grinned before trotting down the hall and out of sight.
Once she was gone, Spitfire sighed and slumped, falling back to her mattress. She bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from hissing as the movement jostled her wing. As the pain ebbed away, she found herself staring up at the ceiling.
White, but not the kind of white she wanted to see—not the kind of white of the clouds her team would be flying through.
A pressure built up behind her eyes and she blinked as her vision began to blur.
In an hour, the rest of her team would be on their way to Baltimare. Then, after a few days there, they would move on to the next town for the next show. And then the next one, and the one after that.
Meanwhile, Spitfire would be here, waiting for them to come back and for her wing to heal.
“Captain?” Redheart asked, nearly making the mare in question jump out of her fur.
Spitfire took a breath and dragged a foreleg over her eyes. When she opened them, she saw Redheart almost within hoof’s length. Her hoof trailed down the get well card left by Blaze, eyes scanning over all of the signatures. An expression of equal parts unease, confusion, and worry coloured her features.
After a second of consideration, Spitfire decided she didn’t like that look on her. “Yeah?”
“Captain—Spitfire, I ...” Redheart looked from the card to Spitfire and worked her jaw. The latter tilted her head. Was that guilt? “I can only imagine what it must feel like to be left behind like this.”
Spitfire shrugged and looked to the side. “It is what it is. Nothing I can do except lie here for a few weeks.” There was scorn in her voice and she winced. “Sorry, that’s not fair. This isn’t your fault.”
A hoof almost cautiously came to her shoulder, rubbing in small circles. She followed the pristine white hoof to its owner’s eyes. They were bright and captivating as ever, though they shone now with a tender warmth that made Spitfire feel at ease.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” Redheart asked. “Get you another pillow, maybe a glass of water?” Her gentle smile and voice both took on a light, teasing edge. “If you ask really nicely, I might even reinstate your pudding rights.”
Spitfire thought for a moment, then that devilish voice reared its head and whispered in her ear. She tried not to show the impish grin that threatened to twist her lips and instead lay her head back, doing her best to look as bereft as she felt seconds ago. “Well ...”
“Yes?”
The opportunity was too tempting to ignore. There was a challenge to win after all, and a nurse to be wooed. Behaving could wait. “It kind of feels like I’m in a sterilized cage right now,” she said, rolling her shoulder in a half-shrug. “Could you open the window? Let some fresh air in here?”
Redheart smiled. “Of course I can.”
Smiling in thanks, Spitfire watched through half-lidded eyes as Redheart walked around her and to the window. With her eyes fixed on the earth pony’s backside, she hummed as she stood up on her hind legs to grab the drawstring to open the blinds.
“There,” Spitfire murmured as those curves moved in the most interesting of ways. Her wing started to unfurl as the morning sun framed Redheart’s figure in the half-open window, and she made sure to commit every detail to memory. “Perfect.”
Redheart paused, drawstring between her teeth. “I haven’t finished opening it yet.”
“No, no, you’re good. Don’t move a muscle.”
Redheart stood there for another few seconds—giving Spitfire ample time to drink the sight of her in—before she caught wise. With a harrumph, she spat the cord out of her mouth and wheeled around. “Unbelievable!”
Spitfire purred, looking back up at the ceiling wistfully. “I’ll say.”
“No pudding for the entirety of your stay!” Redheart growled, yanking the chart from the end of Spitfire’s bed.
“Worth it.”
Shaking her head back and forth, Redheart plunked the chart back in place and snatched the get well card off of the bed blankets. “I can’t believe you. Of all the unprofessional, immature, inappropriate things to do.”
“Hey,” Spitfire said, frowning up at Redheart. “It’s called flirting. Chill.”
With another snort, Redheart dropped the card on Spitfire’s bedside table and was at the door a second later. “Again, if you call that flirting, then it’s a wonder anypony ends up in bed with you without that captain’s badge on your chest.”
Before Spitfire could retort, she had left the room, nearly slamming the door behind her.
Spitfire, for her part, gawked. “Did she just ...”
A quiver danced its way down her good wing. Oh, this was going to be very fun.