Melancholy Days

by Zurock

Chapter 5: Style

"Hello? Oh!" Rarity pushed the door of her boutique open wider. She was caught off guard by her visitor, but she was flustered more by being surprised than by who her visitor was. "James. I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting you. You've made yourself scarce since the party."

"Oh, yeah. Just... haven't felt like going out much," the man feebly explained.

"Well... what can I do for you?" An honest curiosity gripped her. She had her guesses as to what he might have come for, based upon his last visit to her shop, but her imagination couldn't quite pin down any specifics.

With some embarrassment, James raised his right arm and tugged at his sleeve to make the broad gash in it more visible. He wasn't bothered by the cut directly; he had comfortably worn far, far more raggedy things in the past. He would normally be content to ignore such a tear and carry on as if it wasn't there. But he was upset because he still considered the clothes a loaned gift and thus he felt the damage was a poor reflection of how much he appreciated it. "Sorry," he whispered.

"Oh dear," Rarity remarked. She took a moment to study the cotton wound closely. "What a shame." Her eyes lifted up at him and flooded with muted concern. "You're not hurt, are you?" she asked.

James was slightly taken aback by her concern, a brief image of Twilight's worried face flashing across his mind. "Yeah, I'm fine," he punched out, brushing his thoughts aside. "I just... fell... and it ripped. Sorry," he apologized again.

The seamstress turned around and retreated inside, nodding her head to invite him in as she said, "Ah. Well, don't worry about it. These things happen you know. It won't take much to patch back together."

"Oh. If you're busy or anything...," mumbled James as he entered slowly and cautiously, staying close to the door in case he was intruding on something.

"No, no, not at all, dear," Rarity clarified. She trotted over to where her sewing supplies were kept and started shuffling through needles and threads with her magic. "I was actually about to head out to the spa for some thorough freshening up but, regardless, this shouldn't take long."

No longer feeling like an intruder, James stepped forward and waited for Rarity to gather her things. It only took her a minute to pull out a spool of thread which matched his sleeve in color, impressively selected from her memory alone. The spool whirled in the air as she tugged at the strand, deftly threading a needle in one go. Lastly, her pair of sewing glasses floated down onto her face, balancing steadily on her nose as she turned to face James.

"Hold still please," she requested. Her magic tugged at his arm and he relaxed his muscles in response, letting the limb go slack and falling into her control. The cloth about his arm rumpled and stretched until it was in exactly the position the mare wanted it, exposing the tear cleanly.

James held his breath as the needle lined up over its mark. Buds of sweat appeared on his forehead. Swift and sure, the needle suddenly bore into his sleeve and worked through its task expertly, guiding the thread along from edge to edge, all controlled by a steady, invisible hand. The man quickly loosened up, feeling safe under the seamstress' sturdy talent.

Rarity's eyes never left her work, her focus holding solid on the repairs, but she fell into rhythm after the first few stitches. To ease the passage of time, she spoke up to him, "So, ah... how have you been?"

"Just... fine," he answered uncomfortably. Again with the questions about his well-being.

"Well, I only ask because it's been such an absence," she commented. Her needlework wavered for a instant as she realized how apathetic her words sounded and she immediately corrected herself, "I mean, it's the polite thing to do."

"Y-yeah," James murmured back. He had to get this conflict with Twilight out of his head because it was spilling over into his interactions with others. Rarity in particular didn't deserve to put up with his foul mood, and not just because it would be impolite of him. He remembered with perfect clarity how exceedingly nervous she had been to meet him, and she was certainly justified in her restlessness. Yet still she had generously loaned him boots and made him clothes, at no expense to him. And with great speed she seemed to have mostly overcome her fear of him. Though he still felt she had a minute amount of agitation in his presence, the softest and faintest of jitters, she had reached a point where the ease and grace with which she conducted herself seemed perfectly natural. It really spoke well of her in his eyes, and he disappointed himself with how he seemed to treat her: ripping her nice clothes and failing to maintain his composure.

"I've been fine; just hanging out in the library reading a lot," he cleared up, putting as much etiquette into his voice as he could summon.

"Hm. Twilight doesn't have you trotting along to one of her endless schedules, does she?" Rarity asked. She squinted and pulled her face closer to her work, her voice coming out low and quick as she said, "Celestia bless her sense of duty, but I swear sometimes she lets her need to have control get the better of her."

The man nearly laughed at the remark. As much as he felt he agreed with it, he was trying to escape from that headache. "No, I just usually feel like staying in," he said. Then, with a bit of levity, he continued, "And maybe that was wise; first time I head outside for a walk by myself and I rip the fine clothes you made for me!"

"Well, as I said before, these things happen. And it's fixable. Steady now," she commanded. A pair of tailor shears came over and snipped the thread from the spool. The cut end danced itself into a knot, and then the needle pulled hard, sealing the wound. In short order the needle end was also cleaned up, and Rarity inspected her completed handiwork closely before lifting her glasses off and sending them to join her floating gaggle of supplies. "There, you see? No harm done."

Turning her head away, she sent her many supplies back to their appropriate resting places as James looked over the repaired sleeve. The damage was very well hidden by her corrections; unnoticeable to one who wouldn't be looking for it.

With the last of her things secured, Rarity turned back to him. "Besides, that old thing?" she quipped, gesturing dismissively to his apparel, "It's hardly my best work."

"Oh. It's very nice, though!" James countered, loosening his shoulders and then tugging gently at his shirt. "Especially for being incomplete. Sorry, again, about taking it before its hour. I just really needed the clothes at the time." He bowed his head.

"I certainly had a chestful of ideas, but it's quite alright," assured Rarity. "I've moved on. If there is one thing I can say with unquestionable certainty about my immortal trade, it's that there's ALWAYS another dress."

Relieved, James nodded to her. It was good to know that his impulsive decision to have gotten out of Princess Celestia's awkward, mutilated tablecloth hadn't left a negative impression on the dressmaker. He thought about her comment a moment longer and then told her, "Well, I'll need more clothes eventually." Holding up his arm, he ran a finger along the recent stitching. "One pair is clearly not going to last; not with how well I'm taking care of it."

"Perhaps when there's time," Rarity said. She didn't seem too keen on starting such a project anytime soon, but there was a tiny sparkle in her eye; a hint and hope of maybe someday getting to explore her old ideas further. "This is a business that I run here, you understand," she pointed out to him.

"Sure," he answered, understanding all the implications it had for her and for her time. "I don't have any money but I'd definitely find a way to pull some together and pay you for the work." Inevitably it would wind up being Twilight who would pay for such a thing, unless he could find some route of employment. But for some reason his mind couldn't imagine that path; one of settling in and surviving. It felt somehow like an unrealistic, or even undesirable, outcome. A strange revulsion was throwing him off, masked in an uncertain origin. It was almost as if the sense of normalcy about it spooked him.

Shaking the disheartened mood off, he smiled to Rarity and said, "It was kind of a needy situation before. I would actually like to see more of what you could do, given the time. Even this thing is probably the best assortment of clothes I've ever worn in my life!"

The unicorn's face flushed gratefully and she replied, "Flattery won't get you a discount... but it is very much appreciated."

James hummed with satisfaction as he felt the stitching one more time, before he said to Rarity, "Anyway, thanks a bunch for fixing this. I don't want to hold you up any longer."

"Oh, it's no trouble, dear," the seamstress responded confidently. "My trip to the spa is not an appointment to keep; I intend to just drop in. I don't expect they'd be busy at this hour. I need to get this atrocious mess cleaned up." She batted a hoof at the exquisite curls that made up the front of her mane, looking upon them with some disgust.

"I... see...," James gradually let out. The coils in her hair looks finely shaped and perfectly kept to him. With every little movement she made they seemed to breath and bounce. "You look like you're doing pretty good as is," he mentioned.

"Oh, please! It's an embarrassment for a lady to be off her top form. I should never have skipped out on that Marwari hair bath. Hmph." She looked upon her hair in despair, but as her eyes shifted past her locks she caught sight of the man's tied back, shoulder-length hair and immediately felt better by comparison. Holding in the mild nausea she felt at the sight of the wreckage on his head, she weakly hinted to him, "Your mane isn't doing so well, dear."

"My... hair?" he questioned, running his palm along the top of his head. He shot a look at one of the plethora of mirrors that littered the room but shook his head at seeing his plain, expected reflection. "What's wrong with it?"

"W-well...," the pony fidgeted, her voice tumbling out uneasily. Where to start, really? The split ends that every last hair seemed to have? The tangled knots and kinks that repeated as his hair wove its way randomly across his head in swerving chaos? It looked like it had been soaked in a storm and then left as a jumbled mess to dry. Despite being pulled back, bits of frizz and wild whiskers shot out all over. And was that a RUBBER BAND tying it back? Someponies have disordered, unkempt lawns on their heads but few have junkyards.

Her tongue crept out from behind her teeth and, with a shiver of her face, all she could utter was, "Eww..."

The only thing that crossed James' mind in that instant was that it was like having a sister all over again.

Then something in the air shifted. "I'm sorry... may I just...," Rarity squeaked as she edged closer to him. Like a predator stalking out of a bush, a feral glint had appeared in her eyes. Some barbaric natural impulse had assumed control. A industrial strength hairbrush came spinning out of a remote drawer and leveled itself over his head.

"Uh... what-"

Something seized the rubber band behind his head and ripped it out, letting his hair fall free. The brush dug itself into his scalp and began peeling back, quickly getting clogged in his matted cobwebs and pulling with increasing force to break the many repeated stalemates.

"Ow," cracked James. He grit his teeth tightly and stiffened his neck, resisting the pull as the brush tore down his hair in fits and pops. Loud snaps accompanied each strand of hair that was ripped from the root. Forget sister. This was like his mother dolling him up before school. He wasn't a boy anymore though, and this pony was most definitely not his mom.

His arms started to reach up to seize the attacking hairbrush but Rarity jerked it down harder, causing him to flinch again. Determinately, with the speed and strength of a booming thunderbolt, she decreed, "Sh, sh! Hold still! I apologize for the roughness, but one must tame the beast with the same ferocity it would use to subdue prey! No pain, no gain, after all!"

The brush finally burst through the end of his hair, but before James could sigh with relief it had already returned to the top and began raking anew. Heaving with endurance, he told his involuntarily chosen stylist, "It's not the pain that I mind... I just don't understand what you-" but he flinched once more as the fangs of the brush became held up in his scalp again.

Rarity hardly seemed to be conscious of his objections, her attention singlemindedly set on overcoming the challenge before her. But as her brush continued to struggle she came to realize how badly she had underestimated her enemy. Fuming with exasperation, she asked the man, "My goodness, just what do you wash this with?"

"Wash?" he echoed back, confused by the simple question. "... Water?" he replied, as if it should have been obvious.

She didn't respond for a moment, before she finally said expectantly, "... and?"

"And... and what?" he asked, still baffled. "Water," he repeated, pressing finality into the word.

By the way she gasped, it was as if her lungs had collapsed into a vacuum, absorbing the room's air with cosmic force. "You must be joking! Oh no no no no no no no, this WILL NOT do!" she exclaimed, pounding a hoof into the floor.

James felt the hairbrush go limp and he heard the clops of Rarity's hooves bound off to a side room. He turned to look at the doorway she had disappeared through, dismayed by the rattling, crashing, and thumping noises that began to blast out of it. Rarity finally returned with a large, dangerously red spray can hovering next to her. It bore a tiny, faint image of a mare flaunting a gorgeous mane, but the rest of it seemed to be covered in an ancient lost epic of manufacturer's warnings.

"What." He was having a hard time finding the right words to put his foot down with.

Withdrawing her brush, Rarity poised the can above him. Tilting her face away and masking her mouth with her hoof, she ruefully said, "Now, I'm sorry about this, but this is AN EMERGENCY."

In haste, James turned to get his face away from whatever chemical death she was about to rain down upon him, but he still tried to protest, "No, don't-"

The can hissed like a viper as it poured its venom upon his hair. It burned like tiny fires erupting across his skull. He shut his eyes and kept exhaling to keep the scalding particles out of anything sensitive, though enough of the foul smelling material approached his nose to cause a stinging sensation inside. He felt himself running out of breath as the bombardment endlessly continued. Was she using the whole can?

At last the downpour of cosmetic hellfire ceased, and they both coughed with their attempts to breath in the aftermath. Rarity swatted at the air with her brush to try and disperse the remnant chemical agent.

This aggressive hair styling assault had blown far past its welcome awhile ago. In-between gags, James sputtered, "Alright, that's enough of that."

"Well, yes, any more would eat through the roots and risk permanent baldness, which we certainly don't want," Rarity said, misunderstanding his objection. Her commanding voice continued, "Now, hold still again. This is going to be a delicate procedure. We have to stabilize the situation immediately!"

James sighed a feeble, complicated sigh. It cleared more of the despicable residue from his mouth. It also cleared some of the aggravation from his mind. And it also cleared some of the fight from his heart. Now that he was coated with the stuff it seemed too late to stop her so he might as well resign himself to her mercy. Instead, he presumed that this was his punishment for having shown up to impose upon her more than once. At least this way he avoided storming out on two ponies in one day. Twilight had been forcing her way into more sensitive matters, but he didn't care so much about sacrificing his hair. It seemed an especially justifiable concession since he considered himself owing Rarity so much anyway. So he fully relented and kept his tongue held back, merely sighing again.

"Here," he said, "this should make it easier." Gently, he sat himself down on the floor, crossing his legs, so Rarity could gain a vantage point from above.

"Thank you, but hold still!" she repeated. Her brush returned, once more tunneling into his hair. However, when she pulled, the difference was immediately noticeable. While there was still some starting and stopping, as well as a little cranking and yanking, the brush sailed through significantly easier than all the previous attempts. It also improved with each pass, and soon she had it gliding through effortlessly. He started to feel her magic grip his hair in differently organized chunks as she brought the brush through to smooth things out more selectively.

In a short time the fervor with which she had been combing him subsided. A calmness settled in, with the only sounds being the soft pat of the brush's placement followed by a gentle 'fwip' as it moved through his hair. The only sound, that is, until Rarity mused idly, "How could your mane have even gotten like this?"

"I don't know," James answered. He barely recognized the source of her complaints, let alone paid attention to the personal medical history of his own hair. "It's not even supposed to be this long. I'm supposed to have a crew cut, way down short."

Rarity's imagination conjured an image of his suggestion and she immediately rejected it with a hum of distaste. "Why?" she asked.

"That's the standard in-... I mean, the military... hmm..." He fumbled on deciding whether he should talk about his personal history or just the system in general, unsure what exactly would be relevant to the pony. "Well, I mean, I'm supposed to but I don't... it's this long story involving a nasty sergeant, an ill thought-out training exercise, and a delivery truck full of banana bread." No doubt back home there were still some secret whispers about the legend of the Great Banana Bread Massacre.

The mare raised a befuddled eyebrow.

With a swish of his hand, James tossed the train of thought away. It just wasn't really relevant. "Suffice to say," he told her, "punishments, reprimands, even hazing and things like that... they can get to be really weird things. I showed'em though. I learned to like the longer hair. Wear it proud."

Still saturated in confusion, she only murmured to herself, "Not much to be proud of with this."

"It's just hair," chuckled James.

Despite her prior derision of his hair, the seamstress suddenly became indignant. Lifting herself with righteous authority, she responded to him, "JUST hair? This is your MANE, sir! It deserves better! It is one of the purest channels of your self expression!"

"It's... what?" James said in disbelief.

"Take the things you wish to say and scream them out through your mane!" she declared. "Bold and beautiful, shy and gentle, ornate and exotic, loose and free! Take all the things you wish to be and wear them! Your hair is your chance to tell the whole world who you really are!"

"My mouth lets me tell the world whatever I want," James disagreed.

"Come now, there are more ways to communicate than just your words," Rarity insisted. "Besides, not every pony will listen to your words, but they'd certainly have a much harder time not seeing you. You may say you wear this rag proudly but you don't show it at all. Only when they see the confidence shining from your mane will they truly know that you're proud! They should never have to ask!" She gave her own noble curls a proud swish with a flick of her neck.

"The pride was more about overcoming a situational difficulty than... just doing up my hair... but it doesn't matter. Anyway, if anybody cares more about my hair than my words? That's their problem," he countered. His arms folded across his chest in resistance. "Wouldn't listen because of hair? Think less of me, or ignore me, because of hair? Come on, that's them being ridiculous. That's not something I have to do anything about. As if the hair makes the man. Give me a break."

Rarity finished her work, setting the brush aside. She shuffled about as she inspected his hair; the straightness and separation of each strand, and how it now simply hung down instead of being discordantly crumpled about.

"Now, now," she said while she reviewed her results, "don't underestimate the value of good first impressions. You'll leave your mark immediately if they're dazzled by your hairdo. They'll understand your uniqueness instantly if they feel something special in your mane. They'll know that you care and are dedicated if they can see at a glance how much care and dedication you put into yourself. Yes, if you're impressed enough with how you show yourself, they'll be impressed by you too, and it all comes back around." Satisfied that her emergency operation had averted impending disaster, she trotted around him to face him head on. "That's what it means to make a good first impression. Goodness knows I certainly have a hard time forgetting first seeing you, when-en-en-en-" She stuttered and seized like a choking machine, the unwanted memories reflecting in her eyes.

James turned aside. His askew glance caught sight of a mirror and he couldn't hide his smirk upon seeing his tamed hair for the first time, without the unordered curls or wild frizz.

Suddenly Rarity cleared up, steadying herself and taking a refined, poised, ladylike stance. She was in control, and she tried her best to put her dignity forward. "Ahem," she coughed, "well, I'll just say again that that's the value of a good first impression. It helps smooth out all these... difficulties. You can speak with all parts of yourself but none may be more potent than a good look."

"That's still absurd," the man moaned, turning to face her. "If you've got something important or meaningful to say, why would your hair even matter?"

"It's about more than that!" she firmly asserted. "Every part of you is part of your message, whether you want it to be or not! Think of it like a mirror, perhaps: if you make yourself up to reflect something polite, or daring, or beautiful... then other ponies will reflect that back at you." She poised and postured as if she were a reflection herself, exhibiting all the qualities as she named them.

He looked back at her strangely, still unable to interpret what she was saying. There wasn't a single version of it that made sense to him.

Rarity tried again: "Haven't you ever found ponies treating you a certain way, only to later realize it was because you were acting in such a way?"

He blew a stream of air out of his lips and shook his head. Searching through his past, he found plenty of times when he felt others had set expectations for him to meet, or even to rise to. But, to his interpretation, there was a relative absence of events where he had set the pace. From child, to student, to soldier; he had always been in a position to respond. Now there certainly was the exception of first impressions, like between him and Rarity, but even the significance of that had fallen by the wayside once she had the time to see how he normally acted.

"Surely you can think of something," Rarity said. She was almost stunned into disbelief at what was either his unwillingness or inability to produce an example. At last she griped, "Oi. In any case, it's important to show the best sides of yourself. A little sense of fashion and style can go a long way."

"I think the first impression they'd be getting is that I was vain and self-absorbed," James commented, amused.

"Oh, horse blisters!" Rarity scoffed. She pointed a hoof to herself, asking rhetorically, "Surely you don't think I'm vain?"

"The thought had-," James began. But, as he looked at her, he again remembered the generosity she had always shown towards him, and the effort she was always putting in to overcoming her fear. Even this surprise attack with the hairbrush, by far the worst she had ever treated him, was still rooted in some kind of perverted generosity, if her words were anything to go by. He restarted, "The thought HADN'T... occurred to me."

"There, you see? No harm done," she confidently repeated. "Now, I've managed to salvage your mane for the time being but if you want to really get something phenomenal going it'll need more work. Hmm..." She retreated deep into thought.

Standing up again, James remarked, "Well, thanks I guess, but that's alright."

But once more, something different came to Rarity's eyes and it was as if his words passed right through her unheard. She had one hoof partially lifted, dangling like it was sorting through all the possibilities soaring through her head, and her hard gaze never left his hair.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked in trepidation.

---

It was a warm and pleasant sensation. A relaxed, peaceful tingling spread through him. Tiny, toasty waves bounced and splashed against the top of his head. The light, soothing touch of the heated water somehow granted the enveloping, full-bodied feeling of a steaming bubble bath, though it was only James' hair that was submerged. He was laying on his back, resting upon an adjustable spa bed, with his head on the edge of a built-in sink that was filled with hot water coated in a bubbling lather. The whole setup was tilted just slightly downwards, to help let his hair fall into the mixture. About him, the quiet, aromatic environment of the Ponyville spa formed a serene backdrop.

"I feel a lot better," he dreamily declared.

"Mmm, richer than finding a top grade diamond in the rough, smoother than the finest silk dress," Rarity added. She was laying in the neighboring bed, undergoing a similar treatment.

"Yeah. I don't know why I've never done anything like this before," he admitted. The idea of going to any kind of spa, or salon, or beauty parlor, just seemed downright ludicrous. He never had imagined himself going to one. It was an event that had all the illogicality of a paradox to him. But now that he was here... "Oh... I don't even know how to describe it. It's just so... mmm..."

A soft laugh came from satisfied mare. "You see?" she said in triumph, "It's not all... tearing your hair out and spraying diluted dragon's breath."

He had no response except to hum indulgently again. When she had first suggested that he accompany her to the spa, every last inch of him, especially his already 'abused' hair, had been ready to reject her offer. The caveat that had turned it all around came when he realized that, if he had left the boutique then and there, he would have had nowhere to go except to either wander the streets alone amongst the evasive townsponies again or head back to the library to confront Twilight. It had given him enough pause that he had tentatively agreed to go with the dressmaker. Somewhere inside he had planned to resolve his internal dispute and then find the right excuse to escape before they got there. But somehow all that had fallen apart and in the blink of an eye he had found himself head deep in spa business... and he was almost disturbed by how much he liked it.

"Lotus!" Rarity called out, "if you please, I could really use the expert touch of your hooves. Daylight Daffodil would be lovely, I think."

The azure spa pony who helped run the establishment stepped forward. "Certainly, Miss Rarity," she obeyed, retrieving a golden colored bottle from a large collection that sat on a shelf. She squeezed a fragrant syrup into Rarity's sink and then dug her hooves in, working the contented seamstress' hair in a delicate massage.

"Sir, would you also like a massage?" Aloe, the other spa pony, asked of James.

Sunk deep into a state of relaxation, he had a hard time gathering his thoughts for an answer. It was perhaps a bit too much to say he WANTED a hair massage but he wasn't able to predict anymore whether he would LIKE one or not. "Sure, I guess," he lightly replied.

"Is there any particular scent you would care for?" Aloe inquired. "We have many excellent choices for the discerning customer. Royal Rosarium? Daylight Daffodil or Lunar Lilac? Sunkissed Spring? The seasonally popular Beehive Honeydew Ballistic Blitz?"

"Surprise me." The words airily drifted out of his mouth.

"Very well, sir," the spa pony answered with a wink. She chose her personal favorite out of the collection, added it to his sink, and got to work.

Time drifted on, eventually floating out of all meaning. The gentle tugging at his hair, the warm licks of the water; they erased any concern he had, no matter how trivial. They stole away all sense of present, eroding away the fears and worries of the now, and every last string of tension faded into nothing. Even in the deepest parts of his mind he barely heard himself wonder about what made this encounter different such that the spa ponies didn't seem put off by him. No odd stares or dodgy behaviors. Even the more obvious question had no voice: how the heck they were even doing anything in the sinks without fingers?

Peeking out of the corner of her eye, Rarity looked James over. The semblance of serenity that he bore was quite familiar to her, and she smiled smugly to herself. "Things looked terrible at first but with some dedication, effort, and a brave leap into something new, it's turned around," she told him. "Some more work and management here and there, and you can have a mane that looks positively fabulous!"

"Well... I don't... know...," he said, his words dribbling out inattentively. After a hushed moment he snapped into focus for just an instant. "... you really think so?" he asked honestly.

"Absolutely!" Rarity responded with certainty.

Somewhere in the front of the spa a service bell rang. The spa ponies exchanged glances before Lotus Blossom politely excused herself and departed. All fell back to the restful sounds of swishing water and mellow sighs. In a short few minutes however, Lotus Blossom returned with another mare following her.

There was a wispy gasp, and in a voice of kindly, controlled excitement the new mare quietly shouted, "Oh my! Hello!"

"Hello, Fluttershy, darling! So delighted to bump into you!" Rarity greeted. She raised a hoof in welcome, keeping her head down to avoid disturbing her hair.

"It's good to see you too, Rarity," the pegasus happily returned. She caught sight of the other spa guest and welcomingly greeted him, "Hello, James. It's good to see you again."

He had no intention of blocking her out but he was reluctant to abandon the peaceful state of his soothing treatment. It was a struggle to even push out a jumbled response of, "Hi... uh, yeah... ditto."

Fluttershy was directed to a nearby spa bed which she sat herself down upon, happy to wait until the spa ponies were ready for her and allowing Lotus Blossom to return to Rarity. In the meantime, she remarked to the man, "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Oh. Well... you know...," he spoke, but again the aura of relaxation pried open the grip he had on his words. They dropped out of him like stray embers, swiftly fading.

"I don't know," Fluttershy directly answered.

Pulling his fragmented concentration together, James dragged himself back to full waking consciousness. The rest of the room bled into his awareness and after a few seconds he was finally lucid enough to explain, "I was out for a walk and ripped my clothes so I went to Rarity to get it fixed and she invited my here. So... now I'm here."

"Oh, I see," Fluttershy understood. Then, in the most considerate tone imaginable, she said, "I'm sorry I haven't seen much of you since the party."

"It's no... I mean, that's me. I've just been sticking to the library a lot," James clarified.

"Oh," the pegasus merrily accepted.

There was a short, silent interlude where again the gentle work of the spa ponies was the only sound. James tried to settle himself back into the restful paradise he had been roused from but, although he still felt relaxed and at ease, it didn't return. There was a strange void inside; some forgotten responsibility that kept his rest from being completely restored. Something that he needed to accomplish tugged at him from unseen shadows. Then, like a distant, familiar bell, Rarity's words came chiming back to him; an echo of her inquiry into his own well-being: "it's the polite thing to do."

"How have you been?" he asked Fluttershy.

"Very well, thank you," she replied sweetly. "Things have been oh so much better since we took care of all the animals who were hurt in that awful disaster at the edge of the Everfree Forest." Her voice never dipped in remorse and her poise never slouched with sadness. The crisis that had driven her to fatigue in body and spirit was fully in her past; she hadn't changed one bit since James last saw her. "It's been so wonderful, actually. I've been keeping up with my new animals friends in the forest and they've all been doing so well," she crooned with a simple smile.

The details of the forest catastrophe came back to him but he didn't feel as troubled by the issues of the past as he used to. Perhaps he was being guarded by the tranquility of his spa treatment. "Great to hear," he said, falling in line with her joy. "So, I guess you got all the animals resettled then? Even Rocky and his parents?" He fondly recalled the adorable little flying squirrel that he had briefly watched over. After all the years of growing up with a pet it was hard to let go of the quick emotional attachments that came with small fuzzy critters. It was also one of the more satisfying experiences he remembered having since coming to Equestria.

"Oh my goodness, yes!" Fluttershy brightly answered. She was especially perky at the young squirrel's mention and her enthusiasm flowed out with her words, "And little Rocky is worlds better! He and his parents live in just the most delightfully charming hollow, and he's out and about, and oh how he skips and hops and glides! You should come by the cottage sometime and I'll take you out to see him! I think he'd love to see you again!"

"I'd be surprised if he even remembers me. It was one day," James reflected.

"I'm sure he does remember!" the cheery pegasus insisted. "I've caught him trying to brag to the other animals about his 'big friend.'" She held back a giggle, almost overwhelmed by the tiny squirrel's bold cuteness.

James chuckled, also touched by the endearing sounding antics, but the pegasus' short anecdote produced a twinge of oddness which ran through him like a jogging fish. Inside, he almost felt... that he didn't want to see the squirrel again. There was no animosity; no regret; no hidden grievances, malice, or resentment. But... wouldn't it be a bit much to make and execute the plans to get out there? For a squirrel that he had met once? He just didn't feel good about getting started on all that. Not that he was supremely busy or anything. Perhaps it was that he already felt up to his neck in trying to get along with all these new ponies. Ignoring Rocky was one less interaction to deal with, and it also left his memory of the squirrel on the pure, happy note it ended at; unsullied. "Maybe sometime I guess," he said lowly without commitment.

Fluttershy withdrew from that line of discussion without complaint. Her chipper mood seemed completely unaffected by his disaffected remark and, after a brief pause, she picked up a new thought and asked, "Did you get that tea I sent?"

"Hm? Oh! Yeah!" he remembered. Several days ago Twilight had returned to the library in the afternoon with a small carton of tea bags which she said were from Fluttershy. "The... jasmine peach stuff, right? I've been having it in the afternoons. I like it better than the raspberry. I was a little confused as to why you sent it?" he elaborated. Then in haste he put out a quick and honest, "Thanks, regardless."

"Oh, you're very welcome. I had plenty extra and I noticed how much you enjoyed the raspberry tea before, so I thought I might send some. I was hoping you would like it," she casually explained.

"Ah. Well, I do like it," he told her appreciatively. "That's another thing I'm surprised by. I always used to hate tea."

His comment genuinely surprised Fluttershy, since he seemed so plainly to enjoy the first tea she had given him. "Why?" she asked.

"I have no idea. My mom would drink it and I guess I must have tried it once as a kid and decided all tea was bad," speculated James. Any distinct instance of such an event was beyond his recall but he did remember the years and years of squeamishly looking at his mother sipping tea before would he get out water, juice, or something else for himself to drink.

Rarity let up a laugh mingled with a disbelieving huff. "As a foal? Tastes change, dear!" She laughed again. "Like the popular fashions changing with the seasons, you have to look around and keep up."

"Tastes can change, sure, but they don't change like that," he argued back. Personal preferences as fads, being beholden to some outside social force, just sounded ridiculous.

"Well, I understand," Fluttershy said, partially withdrawn. "But we all change in little bits over time. I think it can be good to give some things a second chance. Who knows what you'll find?" The pegasus stared off wistfully as she spoke, keeping the personal experiences that influenced her feelings unmentioned. Her eyes came back into the moment and she added, "Or really it can be good even to just explore and search for new experiences from time to time. I've been raising so many creatures and critters for a long, long time but now and again I'm still surprised by the different things I find to be charming in my animal friends."

"I guess I don't get the point?" James complained. "Like, the tea is nice, I'm glad I tried it and all, but I'd still be the same person even if I never found that out. Why go to all the trouble of doing millions of different things to desperately search for stuff I COULD like when I already know what I DO like?" He turned it all over in his head again but nothing changed. His short lifetime had let him stumble upon plenty of natural interests. Digging up even more would almost diminish the ones he had, in a way. Like spreading the cream cheese on a bagel too thin. Plainly he opined, "It's not a big deal if I don't find out about everything I could like. And as for anything I don't like... sure it's fair to give those things an honest few go's in the beginning, but then that's it. It just seems especially stupid to do the same thing over and over again thinking, 'well maybe I'll like it this time.'"

"My gracious, you don't need to beat your skull against something, like a dunderheaded cavepony hoping to get it," Rarity expressed with a bit of a snicker. "Sometimes you don't need anything more than just seeing a different perspective on everything. After all, it's truly about expanding your horizons, or improving yourself, or being more cultured, or getting a taste of the different things life has to offer." All of her different dreams ran through her mind: all the places she intended to visit one day, all the celebrities she planned to meet, and all the many things on her infinitely expanding bucket list that she would surely get to sooner or later.

"I think it's about growing," Fluttershy stated tenderly. The thoughts that came to her were wholesome and homely. Memories moved through her head with the familiar feel of the sun rolling through the sky, and she picked and chose her words deliberately, "I know it's a big deal when you get your cutie mark and you realize something incredibly important about yourself inside, but we all still have more learning and growing to do even after that. I don't know if anypony ever makes the same big kind of discovery again... but every new thing that gets tried is another chance to discover more about yourself."

Something about this described maturing process didn't sit right with James. "Getting a hobby isn't how you grow up. I mean, I guess it's part of how you learn to express yourself and everything. You come across things that you get attached to... or just of kind of get attached to you," he rambled. It was hard to deny that collecting different experiences was part of expanding oneself as a person. But that was just one of many starting points. The experiences in life he had sought out (or had fallen backwards into) fit into the puzzle of growth just as much as all the people and communities he had met, or the different emotions he had felt. "Learning what you can do is just... a part of it. Growing up is this whole big complicated process that you can't boil down into... getting a tattoo and trying some new things.

"And besides, what would that even matter anymore? I already grew up. And growing up once was enough." It was sort of like an open-ended project: for it to be called complete, at some point it has to be cut it off or it will carry on forever. "There comes a time when you've got to stop learning, and start doing. Move on. Carry forward with everything you've learned and live life."

"Oh no," Fluttershy said, softly wagging her head. "What I meant to say was, you never stop growing. Or, you should never stop wanting to grow. It's important to take some time to work on yourself."

But again he rejected her view. "Time... there's already too much to do and not enough time to do it with. If you want to get anything done in life, you have to stick to the things you know," he griped.

"Pish posh!" interjected Rarity. "Some days do get very busy but one who never has time for themself needs to revise their time management skills." She reviewed James again, leering at him through the corner of her vision, and she critically told him, "Besides, right now your extended residency at the library cannot be that time consuming. I think you have the room to experiment a little."

James halfheartedly accepted, "Yeah, I have to sort of figure out what to do with myself," but he turned stern and continued, "but it's not the time to just start going wild trying new things. This is... an inside time for me."

But Rarity amusedly scoffed again. "Yet here you are. Sipping tea and having your mane professionally cared for, like a gentlecolt of more refined tastes. Is that so bad?"

The accusation unnerved him. The calming effect of the spa treatment started to fade and he shuffled uncomfortably where he laid. "Well, I probably won't be coming back again or anything," he declared.

Aloe, who had been all but invisible with her silence, suddenly ceased her massage and leaned over him, worried. "I'm sorry, sir. Have we not performed to your satisfaction?" The fear of doing a disreputable job was so great that she actually began to tremble.

"What? No, no, no, it's not that. This has been phenomenal," James embarrassingly tried to correct his faux pas. Because of their incredibly diligent and professional demeanor he had basically forgotten that the spa ponies were still in the room, let alone still actively working on applying the treatments. "There's been nothing wrong with the spa. I just... I'm not... a spa person. This isn't what I do."

Fluttershy's eyebrows twitched in confusion. "But... you like it, don't you?"

"I do... but that's not...," James tried to respond.

"You're not making any sense, dear," Rarity said. "Don't be like one of those silly stallions who can't stand to be seen caring about their own appearance. Own your beauty!"

"You don't want to be seen here?" Fluttershy extrapolated, trying hard to grasp his concern.

"I don't care," professed James. He didn't really know any of the ponies in this town. What reputation was there to defend? Actually, given how they all acted about it, especially Rarity's casual invitation for him to come along in the first place, it wouldn't even be defending anything to begin with because no pony would care. Just another spa customer coming through. But he really didn't care about coming back. It had been great; calming, relaxing, and soothing. And in some small, secret place it was at least amusing to maybe think about what can be done with his hair. But he just didn't care. His hair before was okay by his standards and he couldn't fathom putting in the upkeep needed to change it. To set up trips to the spa as some kind of regular thing just wasn't who he saw himself as. "I don't care," he repeated in a quieter tone.

The pegasus' eyes lowered and she whispered to herself in consideration, "You like it, but you don't care about it?" Her low mumbling went on for a brief moment before she stared back at him with a faint, questioning twist of her head. "Do you want to NOT like it?"

Comments

[JBL]

C'mon now, don't go blowing up at these two now. Save it for Twilight.

[Amethyst Blade]

I can't believe this guy represent humanity!
Argh!
An old and wise Wizard in a mordern setting would do a much better job.