//------------------------------//
// The Perfect(est) Party Plan 
// Story: Hood Rat 
// by Twinkletail 
//------------------------------//

Fleur had made many plans before. Some were slightly less successful than others, but she liked to believe that she had a fairly decent success rate with them. Unfortunately, said success rate had seen a steady drop since she began courting Pinkie Pie. Her plan to infiltrate Pinkie's parties under a disguise in order to win her heart had worked temporarily, but the final result was less than stellar. Her plan to get Pinkie to throw her typical kind of party in Canterlot had failed spectacularly, as Pinkie appeared to believe that she wanted a Canterlot-style party instead.

Many ponies might have looked at their track record of unsuccessful plans and given up on coming up with another one. Most ponies would have either begrudgingly dismissed their goal or decided to eschew elaborate designs and take a more direct route to getting what they wanted.

It was safe to say at this juncture that Fleur de Lis was not most ponies.

The party had been going on for a little while now, and appeared to be in full swing—insomuch as a party like this could swing, anyway. In truth, "swinging" might not have been the correct word to describe it. The music, while excellently performed, was a bit dull and completely incapable of being danced to. Not that the partygoers seemed to mind; dancing was very likely the last thing on their minds as they spoke at length about such thrilling topics as their bank accounts or their latest offshore investments. Refreshments were available, but with the size and contents of the plates, it would likely take about half of the total number to fill up a single pony. As for the decorations, it was hard to call them "decorations" at all. Such a name typically denoted the existence of a bit of flair to liven up one's appearance, and the appearance of the banquet hall was anything but lively.

Fleur had wanted a true Pinkie party. Because Fleur had not vocalized her intentions, Fleur had not gotten a true Pinkie party. And now, come Tartarus or high tides, Fleur would make this into a true Pinkie party.

The supermodel sat back in her chair, assessing the situation carefully. She knew she possessed enough charm and grace to talk her way into what she wanted. It was simply a matter of deciding her order of attack.

"So what do you have planned, Fleur? You kinda didn't tell us."

Fleur glanced sideways at the smiling face of Minuette. The others had gone off to try and enjoy the dry party on their own, but Minuette had opted to sit down with Fleur, perhaps out of a lack of better things to do. When even the excitable Minuette could find nothing interesting to do at a party, there had to be a problem.

"My apologies, Minuette," Fleur said, giving her a gentle smile. "I suppose I did get a bit lost in my own mind and forgot to speak my intentions, hm?"

"It's okay!" Minuette responded, patting Fleur on the back. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to! Though I have to admit I am pretty curious."

"Oh, it is nothing like that," Fleur told her. "In fact, I would be quite happy to share my plan with you."

"Great!" Minuette exclaimed. "Then spill the beans, sister! This one oughtta be a doozy if you're sure it'll work after how the last two went!"

Fleur smiled a thin smile at that last comment, opting not to respond to it. Minuette was a sweetheart, but she occasionally had a way of being just a bit more blunt than some while clearly meaning no offense.

"And spill I shall," Fleur told her. "You see, I expected a party similar to Pinkie's usual fare, as I have told you and the others. Instead, she has delivered a typical Canterlot party. This manner of party will not help my goal of showing her that I would risk my reputation for her. Therefore, if she will not bring her style of party to me, then I shall have to bring her style of party to her."

"Oh!" Minuette replied. "And, uh...how are you going to do that? Are you going to set up another party?"

"Not at all," Fleur said. "I need to prove myself post-haste. If I wait for another party, who knows what could happen? As such, I must work with what we have here and alter this party to be more like one of hers."

"What?" Minuette exclaimed. "How do you plan to do that?"

"Elementary, my dear Minuette," Fleur said coolly. "With my stature and level of influence, simply speaking to ponies on five fronts should do the trick. The music, the food, the entertainment, the decor, and the activity of the guests all need to change, and I am certain that I can have them changed. And once they are, the lovely Pinkie Pie will see that I not only truly appreciate her style of party, but would be willing to risk my reputation for her by being instrumental in transforming this party from what it is to what it shall become."

Fleur smiled a proud smile, for the pride she felt in her plan was overwhelming. She let it hang in the air for a beat, waiting eagerly to hear of Minuette's approval of her masterpiece.

"Uhh...I dunno, Fleur," Minuette said, smiling awkwardly. "Don't you think Pinkie might get upset if she set this whole party up for you and you went and got everything she planned changed?"

Fleur let this sink in. She hadn't thought of that possibility, and frankly it was a worrying one. Panic started to set in, and she did the best job she could of neatly tucking it away behind her mask of calmness. Visibly stressing over this possibility would not help anypony.

Fleur tended to be a fairly sensible mare. She would often think things out logically, and if something she wanted to do seemed completely illogical, she would abandon it or at least look for a different plan. Ever since she had become infatuated with Pinkie Pie, however, many things had changed for her. Most were related to the way she looked at her life; simple concepts such as wishing to date Pinkie, being friends with ponies like Minuette, or even considering the idea of a Pinkie-style party to be fun would have been borderline unthinkable to her as recently as last month. As it turned out, her sense of adventure had also been affected. Most ponies, including herself before the Pinkening, would have looked at this new plan of hers and the dire consequences it held if it failed and decided that it wasn't worth it. Fleur, however–the new Fleur–saw it as a necessary risk. In her mind, this was possibly her last shot at Pinkie. If she passed it up, she would never truly know if it could have worked.

"I realize that such a thing is possible," Fleur said resolutely. "But I need to take this chance. I truly believe in the success of this plan. I simply cannot dismiss it now."

Minuette's ever-present smile faltered. She eyed Fleur for a few uncomfortable moments, almost as if waiting for her resolve to crack. Finally, her smile returned, albeit with a bit more hesitance.

"Okay, Fleur," Minuette said. "If this is what you feel you have to do, then I say go for it, and good luck. And don't forget that the girls and I will be here for you if it doesn't work out, okay?"

"I truly appreciate the sentiment, Minuette," Fleur replied, placing a gentle hood on her back. "You are a wonderful friend and your support means the world to me. I still wish for you all to be here for me, but frankly, I am certain that everything will work out in the end." Whether or not Fleur truly believed that statement was irrelevant to her. All she really needed as she stood up was to keep telling herself that she did.

Fleur strode confidently towards the live orchestra, taking note of the various ponies that comprised the ensemble. The majority of the musicians were equipped with string instruments from tiny fiddles to one enormous cello. A few woodwinds filled out the left side, while a small group of brass players sat idly by on the right, waiting for their turn to show off their skills. Fleur couldn't doubt the quality of their music. Pinkie had even gone so far as to call in Octavia, one of the most prolific cellists this side of Canterlot. As excellent as the music was, though, it had to change for the good of her potential relationship with Pinkie Pie. The tempo was too slow, the beat not up enough. To match the enthusiasm of a Pinkie party, the boisterousness of the melodies needed to increase by at least 75%, and as Fleur approached the conductor, she knew exactly how to make it happen.

Fleur added a little sashay to her step as she approached the mustachioed maestro standing atop the conductor's podium. Her true affections may have been reserved for Pinkie, but that didn't mean that she couldn't use her stunning good looks to her benefit elsewhere. A bit of flaunting and playful flirting was acceptable if it meant being one step closer to proving herself to Pinkie, and a bit of flaunting and playful flirting was exactly what she was prepared to do. The swaying of her hips fell in sync with each wave of the conductor's baton as she approached, as if her alluring form was just another instrument under his direction.

"Good evening," Fleur said softly, setting her eyes on the maestro. "What a lovely job you are doing." She watched with an almost predatory smile as the conductor glanced in her direction. His beat remained faithful, but the mild-yet-noticeable raise of his eyebrows were a good indication that she had caught his eye.

"Such beautiful music would be impossible without a talented conductor such as yourself," Fleur purred, placing a testing hoof on his back. When he didn't resist her touch, she carefully brought herself up, leaning demurely on his back. She thanked her lucky stars for her long, slender frame as she snaked her neck around, bringing her muzzle to his far ear so he could pick up on her seductive little whisper that much easier. "I am very impressed by your performance."

"Thank you, ma'am," the conductor responded. His eyes were now focused entirely on Fleur, and the slow and steady waving of his baton began to increase gradually in tempo along with the beating of his heart. Fleur didn't even need to take a look at his face to know he was blushing; the residual heat radiating from his cheek was evidence enough. She glanced out to the orchestra, delighting in the small looks of confusion they exchanged as the tempo picked up. Still they played diligently, keeping up with the waving of the baton as Fleur's influence continued to nudge it up. Had Fleur thought about it, she might have found it odd that none of the musicians were questioning her behavior. Such thoughts did not positively impact the task at hoof, however, and were thus declared unnecessary and ignored outright.

"Of course," Fleur cooed. "How could I not compliment such a handsome young stallion on his fine work?" She glanced away from the conductor briefly to make sure that Pinkie wasn't watching. The last thing she needed was to be caught in such a compromising position by the pony whose heart she actually desired. Thankfully, the pink beauty appeared to be too preoccupied with being the perfect party hostess to notice Fleur's feigned dalliance.

"And certainly a noble stallion would be happy to do a favor for a lovely mare like myself?" Fleur asked, stroking the conductor's shoulder with a hoof. Each little stroke caused the tempo of his conducting to speed up by a few beats per minute, the orchestra's frustration growing as they worked to keep up. Was Fleur not a perfectionist, she might have even found this new tempo to be acceptable. "Acceptable," however, was not something she could accept.

"If you and your orchestra would not mind..." Fleur said, bringing her hoof up to stroke the conductor's cheek and twirl his mustache and reveling in the fever pitch that the music's tempo rose to as a result. "I would find it most enjoyable if we switched the music up and played something a bit more...exciting?"

"What?"

Fleur stumbled from her perch on the conductor's back, startled by his sudden shout. His baton froze in place high above his head, the obedient musicians holding their notes in response.

"I...I said..." Fleur stammered, taken aback by the reaction.

"Ma'am," the conductor said, giving her a pointed glare as the dramatic tone hung in the air. "As gorgeous as you might be, my orchestra and I have been instructed by Pinkie Pie to only play the classiest of pieces, and being as she's the one paying us, we are indebted to listen."

"But..." Fleur tried to interject.

"I will not have the reputation and integrity of my orchestra tarnished by charges of insubordination and the playing of party music," the conductor continued. The ponies manning woodwind instruments were beginning to turn red in the face as they held what seemed to be an endless note.

"But it is imperative that..." Fleur tried one more time.

"Absolutely not," the conductor responded. "We will not be straying from our docket, so just give...it...up." The final three words of his sentence were each punctuated by a point at her from his baton, and each point was further punctuated by a loud musical sting from his ensemble. Without another word, the conductor turned back to his ensemble and began leading them in what might have been their original tempo. To the frustrated Fleur, it seemed even slower than before. She turned her back on the conductor with a haughty huff and headed towards her next target. She would figure out a new way to win him over and change the music once she had taken care of the other points.

Fleur's eyes locked onto one of the waiters. His tray was filled, although nothing on it could have ever matched the pure deliciousness of the snacks served at Pinkie's parties. Surely there had to be something else in the kitchen, something that she could actually find palatable. Refusing to let the disappointment of her failure stop her, she sauntered towards the waiter. Flirting had not worked; perhaps it was time to be a bit more direct.

"My goodness," Fleur said, eyeing the hors d'oeuvres with a gaze so judging it could have run for the Supreme Court. "Those morsels could barely feed a gnat. Perhaps we could spice things up with something a bit more flavorful and filling, hm?" Fleur smiled a sweet smile upon the consummation of her request. Surely the waiter would see where she was coming from and appreciate her directness.

"I beg your pardon?" the waiter said, turning his nose up in Fleur's direction. "This is the trendy dish, beloved by socialites across Canterlot. For a mare who claims to thrive on taste, you obviously possess none of your own." Fleur was left with no time to even think of a rebuttal as the waiter whisked his tray away and walked off.

Fleur felt like screaming. She had never been more insulted in her entire life, as far as she was aware. For the briefest of moments, she considered abandoning her rapidly-eroding plan. It was at that moment that she once again caught sight of Pinkie Pie in that adorable little outfit, chatting with her friends. The stiffness that she displayed with the other guests was dampened, and Fleur could once again see the joy behind her every movement. She needed that joyful pink pony in her life. She couldn't give up now.

With newfound vigor, Fleur marched towards the closest worker she could find. Her target ended up being a mare who was setting cushioned chairs up on one side of the banquet hall around the ice swan sculpture. She recognized the setup on the spot. "Comfort zones" had become a staple of soirées recently, popular in their simplicity. Rather than standing or sitting on harder chairs at their tables to speak, ponies flocked to these aptly-named comfort zones to make themselves more...well, comfortable, for lack of a better word, while they conversed. This innovation had been seen as the epitome of high entertainment at soirées all around Canterlot. While Fleur could certainly appreciate a comfy chair, this was not what she had in mind as far as entertainment. Flirting and directness had both failed; perhaps a fine balance between the two would fair better.

"Pardon me, miss," Fleur said as she walked up alongside the busy mare. "While I do appreciate your efforts in setting up the comfort zone–a lovely job by a lovely mare, by the way–perhaps we could do without? I believe we could really get this party moving with some fanciful party games. What do you say?"

"Games?" the mare asked, scoffing. "How juvenile. You must be younger than you look."

Under normal circumstances, such an insult towards her age would have incensed Fleur, and the pony delivering it would have been on the receiving end of a sharp comeback. Fleur was a mare on a mission, however, and while the rage was still present, it was kept neatly tucked away behind a wall of serenity. The only visual sign of her frustration was a slightly-twitching right eye, and even that was quickly corralled. There was no time to get angry, not when she had two more fronts to move in on. Once the conductor, the wait staff, and that hag of a mare arranging the comfort zone–who had no right judging the age of others, by the way–saw the upcoming changes that she would inspire with the decorations and the other party guests, they would certainly change their minds and see things Fleur's way.

"Fleur?"

Fleur turned around at the sound of her name. Her efforts, while apparently unnoticed by Pinkie, had not escaped the attention of her friends. The six mares who had accompanied her to the party were all staring at her, most of them sporting worried looks on their faces. Fleur quickly equipped a calm smile.

"Yes, ladies?" Fleur asked, as if nothing was wrong.

"Minuette told us about your plan," Moondancer said. "And frankly, it's ridiculous. Just tell Pinkie that you expected one of her usual parties."

"I'm sure it won't insult her," Saffron added. "And she'll probably even be happy to hear that you wanted her usual way of doing things."

"You do not need to keep doing things in this...bizarre fashion," Mint told her. "If I could be honest, you are embarrassing yourself."

"But that is what I want!" Fleur insisted, taking a step back. "And I hardly think I have embarrassed myself yet. Once I get this party going the way I anticipated, I will surely..."

"You don't need to hurt your reputation to win Pinkie's heart!" Twinkleshine interrupted.

"Just talk to her!" Minuette said. "No more plans, just talking. I'm sure things will work out!"

"What they said!" Lemon Hearts agreed.

Fleur hesitated once again, as she had when Minuette was trying to talk her out of her plan before. These were six ponies who truly cared for her and just wanted to see her happy. She had already been through two plans that hadn't worked, and thus far this plan seemed to be going the same way. Perhaps her friends were right, and it was time to throw in the towel.

And yet her stubbornness would not allow it. Fleur de Lis was not the type to roll over and give up. If she had simply given up when things looked bleak, she might not have ever made it as far as she had in the modeling business. Her unrivaled beauty certainly did its part, but the modeling world was far more cutthroat than many would have expected, and it took a degree of perseverance to truly make it. Fleur was proud to say that she possessed such perseverance. Even when things looked to be going south, she would and could not give up when the stakes were high. She caught sight of a mare setting tables out of the corner of her eye, and she became laser-focused on her.

"I apologize, ladies," Fleur said, taking a step in that direction. "You all raise excellent points, but I know that my plan will work in time." She made haste towards the mare, trying to tune out the groan she heard from Moondancer as she went.

"Pardon me, miss!" Fleur called out, quickly garnering her attention before she could leave. "I have noticed that you are setting the table!"

"An excellent observation, miss," the mare replied, her tone practically dry enough to suck the moisture out of the air. Fleur knew sarcasm when she heard it, but opted to let it slide. It was wise to choose one's battles.

"Being as you seem to be so talented in the ways of...decorating," Fleur said, grasping for straws as she watched the simple placement of silverware and napkins. "Perhaps you would be the one to approach about sprucing the place up a bit? The fancy look is tried and true, but some balloons and streamers could really set a new standard for Canterlot soirées!" She smiled brightly at the mare, perhaps a bit brighter than was necessary.

"...Streamers," the mare repeated.

"Indeed," Fleur responded.

"Lady, you're nuts," the mare said. "The day a party like this accepts streamers is the day I eat my hat."

"But you are not wearing a hat," Fleur offered.

"I rest my case," the mare responded, and walked off before another word could be spoken.

Desperation was beginning to take hold of Fleur as she watched her carefully-made plan fall to pieces before her eyes. The faces of her friends, half colored with worry and half seeming to judge her every movement, were not helping matters. There was one more front on which to strike, but with the previous four failing, this one seemed doomed already. There was no chance of convincing the party guests to dance in a rambunctious fashion when there was no other party-like impetus around them. Fleur could feel her chances with Pinkie slipping between her hooves, and a look in Pinkie's direction turned out to be a major mistake.

Fleur had never before experienced the bizarre feeling of her mind snapping in two, so putting a hoof on exactly what had happened was no easy feat. All she knew was that her plans had gone terribly wrong, and if the ponies she needed to cooperate with her were not going to do so, then it was up to her and her alone to make things work.

Before any of her friends could stop her, Fleur galloped towards the orchestra, unearthly determination gleaming in her eyes. Her speed garnered the attention of the conductor, and the fear in his eyes was obvious as he braced for impact. Thankfully for him, it turned out that he was not her target. The supermodel passed right by the conductor, stopping in front of the ensemble and lighting her horn up. One of the idle trombone players let out a shout and wildly flailed his hooves in an attempt to keep his suddenly-ensorcelled instrument from floating away, but his efforts proved futile.

"The music must be more upbeat!" Fleur insisted as she gained possession of the trombone. The instrument's slide began to move as air was forced through it, and soon she had began a jaunty little oompah rhythm. Quick as a hiccup, she zipped away from the orchestra before the conductor could get his hooves on her. Her new target had already been chosen, and she kept up the trombone's simple beat as she charged towards the kitchen. Heads began to turn as she whisked past the waiter who had spoken down to earlier, sending him spinning in circles as she ran into the kitchen. Trendy dishes clattered to the ground as the stunned waiter tried to register what had just knocked him and his cargo over. The answer to his imminent query came faster than expected as Fleur emerged from the kitchen, a tray of table mints floating beside the still-tooting trombone.

"No need for uninteresting appetizers, everypony!" Fleur exclaimed, tossing mints to and fro. "Let us enjoy some tasty treats instead!" A part of her wished that there were some more substantial treasures hiding within the kitchen's confines, but she would have to make do with what she could find. More and more ponies were halting their activities and staring now, but Fleur paid most of them no mind. The ones who did catch her attention were the ponies sitting around the ice swan in the comfort zone. The mare who had been setting it up earlier nearly jumped out of her skin at the sight of the rampaging supermodel.

"Who is up for some apple bobbing?" Fleur asked the group. Before any of them could answer, she zapped the ice swan with her magic, melting the elegant sculpture in an instant. The partygoers couldn't decide whether to stare at Fleur or the large pot that held the watery remains of the ice swan.

"No apples?" Fleur said as she surveyed the room. "Bobbing for cherries then!" The trombone music continued as Fleur whisked the bowl of cherries off of the nearby table and dumped them into the water. She flashed a big smile in the direction of the baffled ponies nearby, making sure to stare the pony who had insulted her earlier straight in the eyes. "Have fun! Even crotchety old mares like yourself can feel young again with a good game!" Mints were tossed to each pony before she took off once more.

Nearly every eye in the banquet hall was on Fleur as she galloped towards the nearest table. It so happened to be the one that the mare from earlier was currently setting, and she let out a yelp and dove out of the way of the rapidly-approaching madmare in a wild gesture of self-preservation. Fleur's magic took a hold of the tablecloth and swept it up from the table, her motion so fluid it didn't even disturb the plates or silverware. The incessant yet catchy tooting of the trombone kept steady as Fleur ripped the tablecloth to ribbons, tossing the remains about.

"Streamers!" Fleur sang as she tossed the strips of tablecloth about, making sure to tie one around the trombone and one around her horn. "Not the boldest color, but fun nonetheless!" One strip was deftly tied under the chin of the cowering table setter as well, Fleur giggling the entire while. Every single pony in the banquet hall was now staring straight at her. Even Pinkie had abandoned her hostess role to watch the goings-on. Seeing Pinkie watching only fueled Fleur further. There was one last front to attack on, and Fleur was determined to make it work.

"Everypony!" Fleur bellowed. "Dance with me!" With that battle cry, she abandoned all sense of self-control, doing her best to emulate the wild dance moves she'd seen Pinkie and others employ at past parties. She danced with reckless abandon, her majestic frame eagerly twisting, kicking, and otherwise moving in ways she would have never dared to move before. Slender white legs flew out in countless directions, her carefully-styled pink mane becoming disheveled as she continued her macabre pirouette towards happiness and embarrassment. There were gasps abound, but Fleur paid them no mind as she went into a spin. Im her mind, if this display didn't win Pinkie's heart, there existed no possible display that could.

Fleur's reverie was harshly interrupted as her hoof came down on one of the discarded mints. Even her fantastic sense of body control and balance couldn't stop her as she slid across the floor, quickly getting caught up in a small bunch of makeshift streamers. The crowd of ponies emitted a collective gasp as the supermodel slid across the room, her pilfered trombone letting out an extended slide note as she finally toppled rump over tea kettle into the the pot of water and cherries. Nearby ponies were soaked by the tremendous splash, and everything fell silent as they waited for Fleur to emerge. And emerge she finally did, looking quite the sight; mane flat against her head and neck, makeup streaked down her face, and her typically-pristine white coat mottled with cherry stains.

Fleur was a supermodel. Such a job came with a natural tendency to enjoy being the center of attention. As she stared out across the room of shocked ponies, wet and disgraced, she decided that this wasn't exactly the kind of attention she wanted. Tears stabbed at her eyes, begging to make themselves known and embarrass her further–if such a thing was possible.

"...What an impressive performance!"

Fleur's ear perked over her wet mane as she heard Mint's voice call out. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Mint approaching her, the rest of her friends following behind.

"Performance?" a nearby pony asked.

"Of course!" Mint insisted. "An excellently-executed performance piece! It truly gave us a sense of what it is like to...carry too much pressure on one's back and crack under its immense weight, all for the happiness of others! Brava!" She gave a pointed look at the mares behind her, and Minuette's eyes were the first to light up.

"Totally!" Minuette exclaimed. "What an inspired show!"

"I could feel the pathos from here!" Twinkleshine chimed in.

"Such bold brilliance!" Lemon Hearts cooed.

"You could really sense the feeling of desperation in every move!" Moondancer gushed.

"Never in my life have I witnessed such a spectacle!" Saffron cried.

Then the six mares began to clap and cheer wildly. Fleur's jaw dropped as she watched her friends flawlessly cover for her. Tears once again threatened to fall, but these were of the happy variety as the rest of the party guests slowly started to join in on the cheering and applauding. The entire banquet hall was soon filled with deafening support and approval.

"Fleur de Lis, you are a creative genius!" one guest called out.

"I've never seen such an amazing acting display!" another exclaimed.

The praise and adulation continued as the sopping-wet Fleur, nearly overcome with emotion, stepped out of the pot and back onto the floor. She managed to give a little bow before turning to her friends. The grateful smile on her face and the tears in her eyes said more than any words she could have come up with.

The noise eventually died down as the party guests returned to their earlier activities. The staff got to cleaning the mess that had been made in Fleur's wake, and one pony even brought a towel for her. Fleur bit her lip as she stared at her friends.

"...Words cannot express just how much I appreciate all of you for having my back there," Fleur said softly. "I acted like a fool, and it was by your quick thinking that I was not laughed right out of Canterlot. From the bottom of my heart, thank you ever so much."

"Of course," Mint said, smiling lightly. "I told you I would be here for you, did I not?"

"And us too!" Minuette said, smiling brightly. "No matter how foolish you act!"

Fleur just shook her head and smiled. Minuette's heart was in the right place.

"That wasn't really a performance piece, was it?"

Fleur whirled around to find herself face to face with a grinning Pinkie Pie. Words temporarily failed her as she stared into the beautiful face of the one she adored so much. She opened her mouth, but nothing would come out. For her part, Pinkie waited patiently for Fleur to find her voice. Honestly, seeing her wait so patiently was jarring, considering her natural affinity towards being active and bubbly. As much as she liked the super-energetic Pinkie Pie, this calm smile was something Fleur could certainly get used to. She wanted so badly to be in the position to get used to it. She stared into Pinkie's eyes and took a breath. There was no more room for plans, no room for deception. The only thing that remained was pure and simple honesty. Pinkie would likely think her an idiot, but it had to be done.

"It was not," Fleur said, unable to break eye contact with Pinkie even if she wanted to. "It was a foolhardy plan to try and change the party you so kindly threw for me to be more in line with the type of party I was used to you throwing. I thought that if I showed you that I cared more about my chances with you than what others would think of me by eschewing the typical Canterlot party for one of yours, then I might win your heart. In truth, I probably should have spoken to you instead of going about this plan that was destined to fail. I apologize for being such a nincompoop, Pinkie Pie. I do hope you can forgive me." Fleur hung her head sadly, too ashamed to look at Pinkie any longer. The deed was done, and she would have to live with the repercussions of her actions.

"Heehee..."

Fleur raised a brow, looking up at Pinkie. Giggling was certainly not the sound she had expected to hear, despite it being one of Pinkie's favorite methods of communication.

"Nincompoop is a funny word!" Pinkie said, smiling brightly. Fleur couldn't help but grin. No matter what the situation, Pinkie always knew how to bring about a smile.

"Yes...it is, is it not?" Fleur answered.

"Totally!" Pinkie replied. Then she patted Fleur on the back. "But real talk? What you did was pret-ty awesome."

"It...was?" Fleur asked, unable to hide her surprise.

"Uh-huh!" Pinkie told her. "I mean, I never would have expected a supermodel to like me and my parties so much that she'd go crazy and ruin a big fancy party and look silly in front of nearly everypony who's anypony in Canterlot just to try and win me over! It's pretty sweet, y'know?"

"It...is?" Fleur responded. She wished terribly to be capable of a better, more verbose response, but her brain would not allow for it.

"Yuppers!" Pinkie said. Then her smile turned sly. "So...you reeeeeally wanna date me, huh?" This time, Fleur didn't need to worry about thinking up a proper response. Her brain supplied it instantly.

"I do," Fleur said instinctively. "So very badly."

"Cool!" Pinkie replied. "How about Friday night?"

Fleur's jaw dropped. Pinkie Pie had just asked her out. In her mind, it was supposed to play out differently. She was supposed to have impressed Pinkie so much that she would have no choice but to say yes when Fleur did the asking.

As Fleur stared into Pinkie's baby-blue eyes and took in her warm smile, she figured that maybe it was okay to deviate from plans here and there.

"Friday night is lovely, Pinkie," Fleur said.

"Great!" Pinkie responded. "Pick me up at eight, 'kay?"

"...Kay," Fleur said.

"Super!" Pinkie giggled. "But until then, this'll have to do!"

Fleur's ears perked as Pinkie leaned in, planting a sweet kiss on her still-damp cheek. The two had shared two full-on kisses before, but this one was done without any false pretenses. This was not Pinkie Pie and Hood Rat. This was Pinkie Pie and Fleur de Lis, and Fleur couldn't think of anything that could make her happier.

Fleur then felt something wet and warm on her cheek. She blushed heavily as she realized that Pinkie was licking her.

"Heehee, sorry!" Pinkie said as she pulled away. "You had some cherry there. Now let's party!" She nodded over to the conductor, who nodded right back before turning to the orchestra. The music started up again, this time a strange slow mixture of their earlier style and a more upbeat party mix.

"May I have this dance?" Pinkie asked, extending a perfect pink hoof towards Fleur. Fleur let out a happy sigh as she placed her hoof delicately in Pinkie's.

"I would be honored."

As Fleur allowed Pinkie to draw her close, she rested her head on the shorter mare's shoulder, taking in the cotton candy scent of her mane. There really was something about that mare.