“Oh, I’m sorry I was interrupting your Discord shenanigans, Pinkie,” Mayor Mare hummed, her eyebrows raised. “Also. I am not that old.”
“Really sorry we ruined your party, Mayor.”
“It wasn’t a party.” Mayor clenches her jaw. Unable to sustain eye contact, she looks back to Cheerilee instead. A sigh escapes her lips. “It was a–”
“Focus! Girls,” the stallion orders, ushering a pregnant silence into the room. “Please, I… I want to know what happened. Not your misadventures from several months ago.” The audible sift of the room’s cold air through his teeth punctuates his growl. “How… How in Tartarus did you do it?”
“Do what?” Pinkie bubbles, her legs swinging awkwardly under the chair.
“I may have an explanation,” Mayor replies.
“But I wasn’t done with the jawbreaker,” Pinkie interjects.
“You mean the Wall,” the stallion cuts, his tone coarse like gravel, “Right?”
“Well, duh,” Pinkie replies, crossing her front legs. “But it’s just a scary name some serious newsponies cooked up to make sellable sugar. Jawbreaker is totes better.” The interrogator breathes in, eager to follow up but Pinkie Pie continues, “And you know, a wall doesn’t grow by itself. Like this one totally did! A jawbreaker, though, you can add layers to it. So yeah nah, Wall? Not a good metaph–”
“Anyway,” he cuts, drumming his hooves on the metal table. “I say when you’re done, okay? I want to be over with this quickly. Ponies are expecting me outside.”
"When are we leaving?" Mayor asks.
In the silence that follows, extended sighs shoot across the table.
“Please, Mayor," the stallion asks, "Continue. Just… be concise.”
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