A Dance With Death

by Dee Pad

Chapter 2 - A Different Tune

While most people with a regular job would usually be woken up by the blaring of their alarm clock, or the much less grating sound of a phone's ringtone, it was neither that usually woke Samba. The dancer worked late nights, which meant she typically headed straight for bed when she got home—shower optional. She didn't have to start work until the evening, so it didn't really matter how long she slept in. But, as previously stated, Samba had to be woken up by something. It was the light of the golden sun infiltrating her bedroom window through the smallest of gaps at the edge of the curtain, because apparently whoever built the cheap apartment complex she lived in didn't bother to measure the curtain rod to make sure it matched the width of the window. And that little gap just so happened to be positioned in the perfect spot for the invading sunlight to pierce through Samba's eyelids.

So awaken she did, as she did every morning. Her eyes creaked open, still heavy and weary, but she knew there was no point in trying to get an extra hour of sleep, or even a few minutes. She stared straight at the clock, and it stared back. Eleven o' clock; a little later than she usually managed to sleep, despite how tired she still felt. Now awake, Samba did the first thing that most people do once they first open their eyes in the morning: check her phone. She snatched her spellphone off the nightstand, laying on her back and propping it up on her chest.

No new messages. No missed calls. The usual. She wasn't surprised; Samba didn't really have any friends she kept in regular contact with. Tap was just a work friend. She liked talking to him, but they've never hung out outside of work. Still, even though this was what she expected every morning, it was always a little depressing.

But as she stared at the screen, Samba noticed the last messages she'd received. Rhapsody had texted her while she was walking home last night. A small smile managed its way onto her face. At least she knew what she was doing today. Maybe he'd be willing to let her stay awhile and chat.

But she'd have to make herself presentable first. Samba crawled out of bed with a sleepy yawn, shuffling her way to the kitchen of her small apartment to pour herself a bowl of the cheapest cereal she could find at the supermarket. After her breakfast, she headed for the bathroom. Samba stared at herself in the mirror. She hadn't bothered to shower last night, opting to head straight for bed, so she still smelled a bit like sweat. However, she lifted a leg to sniff her coat more closely. It wasn't just sweat. She felt like there was something else mixed in.

That's when it all came back to her: the events of last night. Limbo. Samba stared at her reflection, blinking in disbelief. Had it been a dream? It had to be, right? Zombie's aren't real. So what reason would her coat have to smell faintly of garbage and coffee? She didn't even drink coffee.

Samba closed her eyes and shook her head. "You know what? I'm not even gonna think about it. Even if it was real, I'll probably never see her again anyway. So just keep your mouth shut, Samba, and don't bring it up. People'll just think you're crazy."

Having convinced herself well enough, Samba went about her morning rituals, taking a quick shower, then fixing herself up for the day ahead. Her bathroom sink was cluttered with all kinds of makeup and cosmetics. She didn't normally use the stuff during the day, only opting to style her mane typically, but it was pretty much required for her job. Looking good for the pub's patrons was how she made her income. She didn't need to doll herself up right now, though; she'd save that for tonight before heading into work.

But that did remind her of something else. Samba had nearly been assaulted last night, presumably by the guy who had been leaving those creepy messages. How was she supposed to go into work tonight knowing he was still out there, potentially waiting for her? He could very well be in the crowd tonight, watching her intently as she danced on stage. How was she supposed to focus when she could feel his eyes staring at her.

Samba ran a hoof through her wet mane, taking a deep breath. She had to do something. She couldn't just not go to work. She needed the money. It seemed like that was another errand she'd need to run today. She should probably talk to her boss about the situation, or at least Tap, and figure out a solution. Maybe she'd inform the cops, but she didn't exactly have a detailed description of the guy to give them. She would start by heading over to the pub and seeing what she could do from there.

So, with an itinerary in mind for the day, Samba dried her mane and styled it to its usual luxurious waviness. She grabbed her spellphone and made for the door.

The moment she turned the handle, the door suddenly swung inwards, causing Samba to stagger backwards in surprise. On top of that, another pony tumbled into the apartment, landing on her back on the floor and now staring up at Samba with an upside down smile.

"Yello."

Samba just stared down at the pony—a green coated, one-eyed mare—flabbergasted to find them now laying on her apartment floor. But her presence here clinched it: it wasn't a dream.

"Limbo?! The hay are you doing here?!"

"Waiting for you," she answered nonchalantly as she righted herself and dusted herself off.

Limbo took a moment to look over Samba's apartment. The curtains were still pulled tight, leaving the room dimly lit by what sunlight could manage to filter through them, and the apartment was mostly devoid of anything noteworthy; just your usual couch, coffee table, and television in the living room. However, there were several cardboard boxes scattered here and there that looked like they'd yet to be unpacked. How long they've been there was anypony's guess, as they had already accumulated some dust.

"Nice place you got here," Limbo complimented. "Very minimalist. Seems like a good place to do some serious thinking."

Samba simply blinked, as though she couldn't comprehend this mare's existence—which wasn't far off the mark really. "Seriously, what are you doing here?"

Limbo lolled her head back and forth awkwardly. "Weeell, I don't know what time you usually get up, and I brought you home rather late last night, so I figured I'd just sit outside your apartment and wait for you. Anypony ever tell you you move like a mouse? Never heard a sound out of you until you opened the door. Super stealthy."

Samba ran a hoof down her face, already exasperated by this conversation. "You're not answering my question. Why were you waiting for me?"

The undead mare sighed, looking a mite embarrassed; if her blood was actually flowing, she'd be blushing slightly right now. "Truth be told, you're the first person besides Poe who knows about..." She glanced down the halls of the apartment building, then leaned in to whisper to Samba. "...my secret. I was thinking about it last night, and it felt kinda... liberating to actually talk about it to somepony, especially knowing that you were being so accepting of it. I figured anypony would've just run off screaming."

"To be fair, I was a little too mortified to run in the moment."

"Anyway, I..." Limbo tapped her hooves together sheepishly. "...was thinking maybe we could hang out?" she requested with a wide, pleading smile.

Samba cocked an eyebrow. "That's it? You just want to hang out?"

"Look, after Poe was kidnapped, I didn't have any friends left. I kinda told my former colleagues at the station where they could go, and now all I have is Webber, and he's not much of a conversationalist in case you hadn't noticed. I can go a little stir-crazy in my apartment if I don't have somepony to talk to."

Samba wasn't going to say out loud that she figured that about somepony as talkative as Limbo. "Don't you have cases you're supposed to be investigating?"

Limbo's ear drooped, looking a little dejected. "Oh... You, uh... don't wanna hang out, then?"

Now Samba just felt guilty. It shouldn't have been too surprising that a zombie might be a little lonely in the world of the living. "I-I didn't mean it like that. I just... wasn't exactly expecting to see you again so soon, that's all. I thought you had more important things to do than spend time hanging out with a nopony like me, like finding your best friend."

"Hey, I've been on this case for a few years at this point. With little to go on, I can't expect to just randomly come across the answer."

Samba brushed a hoof through her mane with a sigh. She had plans today, but after what happened last night, she was feeling more than a little vulnerable. Limbo had been the one to protect her after that frightening incident, and all things considered, she'd rather spend time with a zombie she knew was friendly than risk bumping into somepony who could very well be an utter creeper. "Alright. I guess I do owe you for saving me. I've got some errands to run, so if you wanna come with, be my guest."

Limbo perked up rather quickly after that, a delighted grin spreading across her lips. "Great. So, what's on the docket, then?"

"Well, I was just headed over to where I work," Samba told her as they left her second floor apartment, locking the door behind her.

"Thought you worked nights," Limbo remarked.

"I do, but..." Samba paused as they descended the stairs, a sigh escaping her lungs. "I've gotta talk to my boss about what happened last night."

"Whoa, whoa, you promised you wouldn't say anything!" Limbo spat in shock.

"About that guy who attacked me," Samba corrected with an eye roll.

"Oh, right," she chuckled apologetically. "Sorry, like I said, you're the only person who knows, so I guess I'm still a little paranoid. Not that I don't trust you or anything, though. Just sayin'."

"It's fine. Given what's at stake for you, I can't say I blame you."

The two stepped out into the busy streets of midday Baltimare. People of all walks of life were going to and fro, not just ponies, but many other species of creature as well. Equestria had become a melting pot of culture ever since Princess Twilight Sparkle inherited the throne, and over the past couple of decades since, the kingdom and its allies were experiencing a golden age of peace and prosperity between the world's many peoples. While ponies still made up the majority of the populace in most Equestrian towns and cities, it was commonplace nowadays to see other creatures intermingling with them, from griffons to changelings to yaks and even the occasional dragon. And that was just the tip of the iceberg.

But how many zombies were walking around? As far as Samba knew, just one. Out of all the varied species of creatures she saw everyday, an undead mare had been quite the surprise. And here she was, walking alongside her casually like it was no biggie. She wasn't sure what exactly it was that made fate decide that her life should take this turn, but right now she had other things to deal with that were more important than the smiling zombie walking next to her.

After walking down a few city blocks, Samba and Limbo arrived at the pub where the dancer worked. On the outside, it looked pretty much like your run-of-the-mill bar, with a neon sign in the window displaying the logo and name—The Brewery—in bright green. On the inside, however, it was a different story, the stage and rather high ceiling and open space it offered making it look perhaps fancier than it actually was. It may have been around noon, but the pub still had its fair share of patrons even at this hour—mostly people who had nothing better to do with their lives other than drown their time in a stiff drink.

Samba immediately turned her attention to the counter, where she was surprised to see Tap mixing drinks. "Hey, Tap. What are you doing here so early?" she asked as she and Limbo sat at the bar.

Tap sighed and rolled his eyes, though he never let his amicable smile leave his face. "Cask called in sick, so guess who got called to fill in for him and pull an extra long shift tonight."

"That's not really fair," Samba commented with a sympathetic grimace.

Tap shrugged. "Not much we can do about it until they hire more staff to cover situations like this. But, to be fair, I was gonna ask what you're doing here so early. I can't imagine you're just eager to get back up on that stage already."

Samba leaned on the bar with a somber groan. "That's more true than you even know."

Tap arched an eyebrow at the sullen look on her face. "What do you mean by that?"

"I was gonna talk to Brew about it, but I'd honestly rather talk to you because I know you'll take it seriously." Samba looked Tap in the eye. "'You-know-who' was following me last night."

"What? Are you sure it was him?" Tap asked in surprise.

Samba nodded slowly. "Said he was tired of waiting. Then he tried to assault me."

Worry overcame Tap's face, and he reached out to hold Samba's hoof comfortingly. "Oh my gosh, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I was just lucky that Limbo happened to be nearby when it happened."

Tap turned to the mare seated next to Samba

Limbo gave the bartender a friendly wave. "Hey-a."

"I was gonna ask about that," Tap said with a quiet chuckle. "I figured she wasn't just a random stranger who happened to come in at the same time."

"So, yeah, this is Limbo," Samba introduced. "And, Limbo, this is my coworker, Tap."

"Nice to meet you," greeted Limbo.

Tap returned the greeting with a nod and a grin. "Ditto. And thanks for looking out for my pal here."

Limbo shrugged her shoulders, acting modest, but unable to hide her self-satisfied smirk. "All in a night's work."

"I guess the question is: why were you out so late?" inquired Tap.

Limbo leaned on the bar with an insulted pout—clearly facetious. "Well, aren't you nosy?"

"I'm a bartender. People expect me to ask questions and offer sage wisdom," he laughed.

"Yeah, when they have problems. I don't have any grievances to air."

"So you were just out for a leisurely jaunt at two in the morning?" Tap leaned forward, putting on a compassionate, but also playful smile. "Come on, tell ol' Tap what's wrong."

Limbo then forced a pained sniffle, pretending to be on the verge of tears. "Daddy's never been proud of me. He just drinks all night and ignores me."

"Really?"

Limbo had to choke back an amused snort, dropping the façade. "Pfft, no. I'm a detective, always sniffing for leads, even in the dead of night. But I actually am a bit of a night owl too. No more to it than that."

"Good thing too. If you hadn't been, you wouldn't've caught the guy who's been creeping on Samba for ages," Tap stated gratefully.

Limbo broke eye contact, awkwardly tapping the bar with her hooves. "Yeeeeah, about that..."

Tap's expression fell. "Wait, so... you didn't catch him?"

"That's what I came here to talk about," Samba told him solemnly. "With that guy still out there, I don't know if I feel safe walking home at night anymore."

"I'd be more than happy to walk you home," he offered graciously.

Samba shook her head. "It's more than that. I'm not even sure if I can get up on the stage and perform knowing that any of the guys in that crowd could be him," she explained, her voice beginning to tremble slightly. "It's hard enough to keep up the act as it is. How am I supposed to work when I feel like his eyes are always on me? How am I supposed to feel safe?"

Limbo stared silently as Samba's breathing started to get shaky. She was beginning to feel more than a little guilty for letting the guy get away.

Tap looked to be deep in thought for a few moments, but never broke eye contact with Samba. He spoke up again with resolve. "Given everything you're going through right now, I think you might need some time off."

Limbo raised an eyebrow at that statement, but stayed quiet.

"I can't just take time off," Samba sighed. "I need the money."

Tap leaned forward again. "You 'need' to be able to relax. I've had the privilege of watching you dance on that stage for a long time, so you can bet your bottom dollar that I notice when your heart is not in it."

Samba's ears flattened against her head.

Tap smiled comfortingly. "You have vacation days. Use 'em, and take that time to figure things out. And, hey, if you need a shoulder to cry on..." He pat his own shoulder. "My coat's pretty absorbent."

A smile managed its way onto Samba's face. She never could keep a straight face when Tap went all "big sister" on her. She brushed a few errant strands of hair back into place with her hoof, sighing as she relented to Tap's advice. "Okay, you're probably right. I'll do that. I just need to talk to Brew and—"

Tap raised his hoof to cut her off, shaking his head. "Nope. Starting right now. I'll handle Brew, and if he has any problems with that, I'll take the brunt of it."

Samba grinned. As much as she would like to argue otherwise, she knew this was one of those times where Tap was absolutely not going to take no for an answer, so why bother? "You really are a doll, Tap."

"I try," he chuckled.

Samba leaned over the counter to give Tap a grateful hug before hopping off her stool. "Thanks, Tap. I'll try to enjoy my time off."

"You better."

Samba started heading for the door. Limbo glanced around awkwardly, her gaze eventually meeting Tap's. She forced a grin, then slid off her stool less than coolly. "Guess I'll just be... going now. Nice meeting you, Tap."

"Likewise," said Tap with a genuine smile. "Thanks again for helping her."

Limbo hesitated. Tap's thanks didn't sound disingenuous, but it did manage to bring the guilt back up like old leftovers. "Oh, uh, yeah. No problem," was all she said before making to catch up to Samba.

As they started down the sidewalk once again, Samba cast an apologetic grin to her undead companion while keeping an eye out for any passing taxis. "Sorry if that got a little... Uh, I'll say 'personal.' Probably made you a bit uncomfortable, huh?"

"Actually, it's probably for the best," Limbo responded with uncharacteristic seriousness. "Like your friend said, you shouldn't have to deal with that stress, and you wouldn't have to if I had actually done my job and apprehended the dude."

"Don't beat yourself up about it. You helped plenty. It could've been a lot worse if you hadn't been there."

"But you just got through saying that you feel unsafe, and I'm taking responsibility for that."

"Limbo, listen, you—"

"Nah, nah, nah, we ain't havin' this back and forth," Limbo interrupted resolutely. "I'm gonna catch that guy as my way of making up for letting him get away. I'm staking my pride as a detective on it."

Samba smiled gratefully. "Limbo—"

"A-bup!" Limbo pressed her hoof firmly against Samba's lips, cutting her off and surprising the dancer. "Stop yer arguin'! I'm doing this, and you ain't stoppin' me! In fact, now I'm gonna do it for free just to show you how sorry I am! How you like them apples?!"

Samba blinked as Limbo removed her hoof. "Uh, I was just gonna say thanks, that's all."

"Oh." Limbo scratched her chin, looking more than a little embarrassed about her outburst, especially considering she'd earned the attention of a few passersby. "Well, in that case, you're welcome. And I'll still do it for free. I'm a mare of my word."

"I appreciate it. The only question I have is—and I'm not trying to convince you not to do it or anything—what about your other case? You know, the Ghost?"

Limbo flicked her hoof dismissively. "Pfft. I've been on that case since the kidnappings started. You think I make a living only handling one case at a time? Stalkers and petty thieves and vandals and the like that the B.P.D. don't make time for are like my little side jobs. The Ghost is a priority, sure, but I'm not exactly expecting to be able to solve the case any time soon. I'm just one mare after all. Eesh!"

Samba drew back when Limbo suddenly winced as if in pain.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, chill out," Limbo grumbled seemingly to herself.

"What was that?" asked Samba worriedly.

"Webber."

Samba could feel the blood starting to drain from her face all of a sudden. "H-He's in there right now?"

"Yeah, he's with me most of the time. Never know when I might need his help, but it's mostly because I can't leave him alone at the apartment for more than a couple of hours or he covers the place in webs. Eeyah!" Limbo twitched again, earning some odd looks from passing citizens. "Would you stop? We're in public, you goon."

"What's he even doing to you?"

"Jamming his scrawny legs into the wrinkles of my grey matter and triggering synaptic responses. It doesn't actually hurt, but it's really annoying."

Samba shuddered. The idea of a spider controlling your muscle reactions like it was piloting a giant robot was a tad unsettling. However, the topic did remind Samba that she still had a lot of questions for Limbo. "So, is your brain still, like, intact, or what?"

Limbo glanced around discreetly at the other people wandering the sidewalks. "You wanna talk about it this now?"

"Oh, sorry. There's just a lot of things I'm still curious about, that's all."

The zombie flicked her hoof. "Eh, whatever. We'll just keep it discreet. Anyway, to answer your question, everything is partially rotted, but the spell makes everything work. I'm not an expert, but from what Poe told me, the magic just kinda... 'fills in the gaps.' That's really the simplest way to put it."

"So, are you, like, immortal, then?"

"Nah. I mean, as long as the spell holds up I can last potentially forever, but the magic is tied to my brain. If my brain is damaged too much, the spell wears off I go kaputsky again. Which is why I'd like a certain someone to stop poking around in there. Gyeh!" Limbo yelped once more, scowling up toward her forehead. "Don't make me put you in the bathtub when we get home. You wanna spend all night trying to crawl outta that?" She waited for a response, but felt nothing. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

"You've been a zom—er, like this for a while, right?" Samba asked.

"Couple of years now, yeah. Why?"

"How have you managed to keep it a secret for so long? I mean, what if something happens and you need to go to the hospital or something?"

Limbo cast her a deadpan stare. "For what? I'm dead. There's not exactly much a doctor can do for me at this point. I can't get sick, and the spell repairs most injuries, as you've seen for yourself."

"Okay. I mean, that actually seems kinda convenient, doesn't it? You don't have to worry about medical bills, or be afraid of anything dangerous, really."

Limbo smirked amusedly at Samba. "Are you actually jealous of a dead person?"

Samba gently brushed a hoof through her bangs. Limbo had been expecting at least a quiet giggle when Samba realized what she was saying, but there was a sudden sullen look on her face.

"All things considered, your afterlife seems to be more 'on track' than my life... At least you know what you want to do with the time your friend gave you. You have a goal—a mission. And even though you're worried about her, you still somehow manage to be optimistic."

Limbo wasn't quite sure what to say. She didn't know Samba well enough to offer any advice, and her personal experiences might not exactly translate well. But getting to know her a little better might give her the knowledge she needed to help. After all, Samba was a client now; she needed as much information as she could get. In a case like Samba's, helping her cope emotionally was as important as catching her attacker. She couldn't leave a client unsatisfied.

"So, uh... You still have errands to run, right? Where we headed now?" inquired Limbo in an effort to both gather some intel and hopefully change the subject.

Samba finally managed to hail a cab, a pair of stallions pulling up alongside them pulling a black and yellow taxi carriage. "My ex's place," she answered, giving the pair of cabbies the address.

Not the answer Limbo was expecting. She hesitated for a moment before climbing inside the carriage and sitting next to Samba, the taxi starting on its way across town. She couldn't exactly tell what Samba was thinking; her expression was pretty unreadable at the moment. "Oh. When you said 'errands,' I figured you were going grocery shopping, or visiting a salon or something."

"He's got some of my stuff that I need to pick up, that's all." Samba instinctively pulled out her spellphone, checking to see if she had perhaps missed a text, but only saw the same thing that was there this morning and last night. She slipped it back into its sleeve. "We probably won't be long anyway."

The sigh that escaped from Samba's lips would have been nearly imperceptible to most people, but not Limbo. It was evident by Samba's body language that she was expecting this visit to be a little uncomfortable. "You want me to maybe hang back? Having to deal with your ex-boyfriend sounds like personal business."

"Ex-husband."

"Oh. Uh... Does that make it worse? I dunno, I'm no expert on relationships."

"It's fine, you can come with. I think I could use a little moral support anyway."

That statement made the relationship between Samba and her ex sound pretty serious. And after a request like that, how could Limbo say no? She wanted to help her out in any way she could, so this seemed like a good place to start. Limbo put on a tough, reassuring face, patting her chest confidently. "Well, if that's the case, I'd be happy to accompany you. And if he tries anything, I'll step in and show that jerk what-for. He probably didn't deserve you anyway."

Samba let out another breath through her nose. "You're right, he didn't deserve me, but not in the way you're probably thinking..."

That caught Limbo off guard. "Wait, so... Was he not a jerk to you?"

Samba shook her head. "No, he wasn't. Rhapsody is one of the sweetest, most passionate people I know. I was the problem in our relationship, not him."

Limbo didn't say anything at first. Judging by the self-depreciating tone of her voice, this was something that Samba judged herself rather harshly about. Limbo wasn't entirely sure if she should let her talk about this; it really wasn't any of her business. "Alright, you don't have to say anymore if it's too uncomfortable for you."

"No, no, it's okay." Samba looked Limbo in her one eye. "I'm your client, so it's in your best interest to learn as much about me as you can, right?"

Limbo blinked. It was like she was reading her mind.

Samba smiled, an unexpected expression of gratitude on her face. "Besides, you trusted me with a lot of personal information about yourself. It seemed like trust was pretty important to you last night, so I want to show you that I do trust you."

If Limbo's heart could still beat, it may have skipped one just now. What was she supposed to say to that?

"You're about to meet him anyway, so you might as well have some context for anything we might say to each other."

"It's not gonna get heated, is it?" Limbo asked cautiously.

"Probably not. At least, I hope not," Samba answered with just a touch of doubt. "We've known each other for a long time. We were high school sweethearts, as madly in love as we could be." She twirled the ends of her wavy mane self-consciously. "I guess the problem was that I was too dependent on him. He was always so driven and passionate, and that's why I fell in love with him. After we graduated, we moved in together, got married, and from there I just put my hooves up and let him do all the work."

"But you're a dancer, right? It wasn't like you weren't contributing," Limbo presumed.

A shameful blush tinted Samba's cheeks. "I've only had that job for half a year, after we got divorced. I actually got my cutie mark when I was young. I had a dream of dancing on stage in front of hundreds of people. But after I met Rhapsody, I just kinda... let that dream fall by the wayside and started leaning more on him. I mean, he was successful. He's the lead guitarist in band and he owns a record store. We were pretty well off without me needing a job."

Another long sigh escaped her lungs, her ears falling flat and the guilt and remorse more visible in her eyes than the pink of her irises. "Then Pira came along..."

Limbo cocked an eyebrow. "'Pira'?"

"Pirouette. Our daughter."

Yet another surprise to catch Limbo off guard. "Oh. Didn't expect you to be a mom. No offense."

"And that's the problem right there," Samba muttered. "After we had Pirouette, that's when Rhapsody started noticing my dependency on him. I'm... not really parent material. I was so afraid I'd do something wrong when we were raising her that I just let him do everything. Rhapsody just got increasingly frustrated with having all that work thrust onto him until he figured that if I wasn't going to help anyway... why did I need to be there...?"

"That... sounds pretty harsh," Limbo commented sympathetically.

"I'm not mad at him, not at all. Like I said, I was the problem, so I understand why he wanted to break up. I was only making his life harder. And I don't want to blame Pira for our divorce, but she was what made us both realize how useless I actually am... Rhapsody and Pira both deserve better than me..."

"I..." Limbo was at a loss for words. While she wanted to provide some emotional support for Samba, this level of dysfunction was a little outside her wheelhouse. It was pretty surreal to encounter somepony with a problem that was more depressing than being dead.

It was hard to continue the conversation from that point. Samba was looking a little too sullen to say any more, and Limbo didn't have any expertise to offer her. The rest of the taxi ride was made in rather uncomfortable silence, with only the clopping of the cabbies' hooves on the street to add ambiance.

Eventually, they arrived at their destination. Samba and Limbo exited the taxi, the former paying the cabbies their fare, while the latter had a look around to see where they'd gone. Whereas Samba lived in downtown Baltimare, her ex-husband apparently lived further uptown. It wasn't like there was much of a difference between uptown and downtown, just that downtown was closer to the harbor, while uptown closer to the business district and town hall. Apartments tended to be cheaper downtown, which was why Samba had opted to move there after her divorce.

They had stopped in front of one of uptown Baltimare's apartment buildings, presumably where Rhapsody and Pirouette lived. The entrance had a buzzer for each apartment, something that Samba's cheaper building lacked. The dancer tapped one of the buttons for a room on the second floor, and after a few moments, the clicking of the front door's lock could be heard, allowing them entry into the building. Limbo followed Samba up to the second floor, where the latter knocked on one of the doors.

After a moment, the door was opened by a handsome, maroon-coated, unicorn stallion, his white and yellow mane glistening with hair gel and hanging slightly in front of his right eye. His cutie mark depicted a golden vinyl record, and based on what Samba had described, it was pretty easy for Limbo to infer that this was her ex-husband Rhapsody.

Despite the tension no doubt lingering between the two, Samba met Rhapsody with a friendly, albeit sheepish smile. "Hi, Rhap."

"Hey," he greeted back, though with notably less emotion. "I was expecting you a little later, but whatever."

Samba sniffed the air, noting a distinct aroma of cooked vegetables. "I'm not interrupting lunch, am I?"

"Nah, we just finished. You eat yet?"

She shook her head. "I had a late breakfast, but no lunch yet."

"We've got some leftovers, if you want to take some home. Stir fry."

"Hard to say no to that. Your homemade sauce always made my mouth water."

He stepped aside to allow her in, but paused when he finally noticed somepony else standing with Samba in the hall. "Who's this?"

"Oh, right. Uh, this is Limbo. She's a friend. We met last night and she's been hanging out today so we can get to know each other. You don't mind, do you? We're not gonna be long."

"No, no, it's cool." Rhapsody gestured for the two of them to enter, offering his hoof to Limbo with an affable grin. "I'm Rhapsody. Don't know how much Samba's told you about me," he said, his grin becoming a tad crooked as he chuckled awkwardly.

Limbo assuaged any concern he may have had with a smile of her own. "Nothing but good. I was looking forward to meeting you actually."

Limbo shook his hoof, and she certainly didn't miss the slight confusion on his face when he noticed how cold her hoof was, though, like any other civil person would, he opted not to comment on it out of politeness.

After the introductions were over, Limbo had a look around the apartment. It wasn't anything too fancy, but certainly a lot swankier than Samba's apartment. The curtains were open for one, allowing the sun to brighten up the place. She immediately took note of the soundproofing foam affixed to most of the walls, and along with the speakers and the two different guitars in the corner, the living room looked more like a sound studio. Samba had mentioned that Rhapsody was a musician, but she would've figured that out on her own with just a cursory glance. Limbo then followed her nose to the kitchen, the stove still hot from cooking the aforementioned stir fry. It did indeed smell good, and also looked delectable as the leftovers sat in the frying pan on the dining table. The only curiosity that Limbo had left was not present, however, as Rhapsody seemed to be the only one in the immediate area.

"So, uh... making new friends, Samba?" Rhapsody remarked. "That's good. You said you met last night? How'd that happen?"

"She found me dumpster diving on her way home," Limbo answered with a genuine smile.

Rhapsody chuckled, assuming that was a joke. "No, seriously."

Samba shrugged. "She's not entirely wrong, but you're missing some context."

"I'm listening," Rhapsody said curiously, hoping that he didn't just invite a hobo into his home.

"Some creep at the bar was following me home and tried to attack me. Limbo jumped in and scared him off."

"Holy crap! Seriously?! Are you alright?!"

"Yes, I'm fine, thanks to her."

Rhapsody let out his breath, letting his heart rate level out again. "Thank Celestia."

Limbo quietly observed the stallion's shifting emotions. The two may have gotten divorced, but it was still pretty clear that Rhapsody still very much cared about Samba. Although, she was the mother of their child, so it made sense.

"And thank you, Limbo," Rhapsody said gratefully. "That was a stroke of luck that you happened to be there."

"Well, maybe save your thanks for the time being. Like I said, Samba found me in a dumpster, so I didn't actually catch the guy."

Rhapsody opened his mouth to make a comment, but was interrupted before he could get another word out.

"Mommy!"

From the hallway beyond the kitchen emerged a little unicorn filly, her coat a deep purple, and mane pale pink and curly. She immediately ran toward Samba with an ecstatic grin on her face, leaping up to give her a hug.

Samba happily hugged the filly right back, nuzzling her lovingly. "Hi, Pira. Did you have a big lunch today?"

"Mm-hm," the filly answered as she dangled from her mother's neck. "I had two plates!"

"Wow, you're gonna get big so quick if you keep eating like that," Samba giggled. "But since it's your dad's cooking, I can't say I blame you. You brush your teeth?"

The child flashed a toothy smile to show off her mouthful of sparkling whites.

"Good girl."

She set the little one back down onto the floor. The filly was about to then hurry over to her dad, but her bright, blue eyes caught sight of the third adult in the apartment and stopped in her tracks.

Limbo could sense the apprehension in the little pony, so she offered a friendly smile to make her feel more comfortable in her presence. "Hi. You must be Pirouette. I'm Limbo."

Pirouette didn't respond. Instead, she shrunk back, hiding behind her mother's leg and clinging to her cautiously.

Rhapsody offered an apologetic smile to his guest. "Sorry, I've taught her to be wary around strangers."

Samba leaned down, speaking to her daughter gently. "It's okay, Pira. She's mommy's friend. She's nice."

"Be polite and introduce yourself, sweetie," instructed Rhapsody.

Seeing the encouraging smiles on her parents' faces, Pirouette stepped out from behind her mother and sheepishly looked up at Limbo. "H-Hi. I'm... Pirouette."

The kid was clearly still a little pensive, but Limbo acted natural to help her be a little more open. "Nice to meet you."

All she got in response was a quiet, "Mm."

"She seems pretty shy," Limbo commented to the child's father.

"She's really not. She's normally a living ball of energy and optimism," Rhapsody told her. "Like I said, she's wary when strangers talk to her."

"It's a good rule for a little kid to follow. There's a lot of bad people out there."

"You don't have to tell me..." Samba said with a sigh.

"Have you told the cops yet?" her ex-husband asked.

Samba didn't have a chance to answer, being cut off when Limbo scoffed at the question.

"Pfft. Yeah, sure, tell the cops. Maybe they'll catch him some time next year," Limbo quipped vindictively.

"Whoa, hey, don't talk about the police like that in front of our daughter," Rhapsody scolded. "They're role models for little kids."

Limbo rolled her eye with a disgusted, "Ugh."

"Well, who exactly are you to judge them?"

"An ex-officer, that's who. Emphasis on the 'ex.' Quit the force to become a private detective. I've probably put in more work since I quit than they do as a collective."

"You're exaggerating," he deadpanned.

"Maybe a little, but I'm still serious."

"Um..."

Everypony glanced down at the quiet filly, who was staring up at Limbo.

"Wh-What's a private, uhh... detecive?"

"Detective," Samba corrected.

"They're like police officers, but they work by themselves," her father answered.

Pirouette's eyes widened a little. "Really? So... you catch bad people and put 'em on timeout?"

Limbo stifled a snicker at her innocence. "Pretty much, yeah."

The filly's cute smile returned, her reticence in the stranger's presence diminishing. "Cool."

A small smirk crept onto Limbo's face, but she refrained from casting it haughtily at Rhapsody.

"How many bad guys did you catch?" Pirouette inquired eagerly.

"Oh, lots. Too many to count. And I promised your mommy I was gonna catch the guy that tried to hurt her."

Pirouette turned to her mom worriedly. "Who tried to hurt you, Mommy?"

Samba shook her head, wearing a smile to show her daughter that she was alright. "I don't know who he was, but Limbo's the reason why he didn't hurt me."

The filly stared wide-eyed and interested at the detective. "Did you chase him?"

"Oh, yeah. It was a pretty intense chase too. He tried to ditch me down an alleyway, but I stayed on his tail, just two steps behind. I was ready to pounce him like a wild tiger, but he slipped away at the last second."

Pirouette listened with deep intent, her tail swishing excitedly as she hung on every word.

"You missed the part where you fell in a dumpster trying to do 'parkour,'" Samba interjected.

"She doesn't need to know that," Limbo hissed through clenched teeth.

"Is that why you smell funny?" the filly asked.

"Pira! That's not very polite," her father scolded.

"Oh, sorry..." Pirouette apologized sheepishly.

Limbo dismissed the comment with a smile. "Ah, no worries. I do tend to use too much perfume, though I would sincerely hope it doesn't smell like trash. Would kinda defeat the purpose, and I spend more money than I should on this stuff."

"It smells nice," Pirouette complimented. "But it makes my nose tickle." The remark was punctuated by a cute sneeze from the filly.

"Yeah, my bad. Maybe I could stand to tone it back a smidge. People's dogs tend to give me a wide berth, though I'm not exactly complaining about that."

"Mmm..."

Limbo saw the sudden look of curiosity on the filly's face, but it was mixed with a great deal of restraint. "Something wrong?"

Pirouette hesitated. "Daddy said to be polite..."

Limbo couldn't help but admire how considerate this little girl was for her age. But for as much restraint as she was showing, Pirouette couldn't prevent her eyes from repeatedly shifting to the object of her curiosity every few seconds. Limbo grinned knowingly. "You wanna ask about the eyepatch, right?"

Her purple cheeks tinted red in embarrassment at having been so easily read. "A little..."

"Pira, maybe you shouldn't pry," Rhapsody warned her.

"Oh, calm down," Limbo told him with a flick of her hoof. "It's not a sore spot or anything. Your mom asked about it too. Anypony who meets me is gonna have the question on their mind, so I might as well answer it. And to that end, I'll tell you that I do, in fact, only have one eye."

Now having permission to inquire, Pirouette let her curiosity come to the fore. "Really? What happened?"

"That's a complicated story, but suffice to say that paper airplanes and lighter fluid make for a dangerous combination."

"Can I see?" she asked eagerly.

Rhapsody interjected before Limbo could respond. "I would like to respectfully ask that you please not show my daughter what an eye socket looks like without an eyeball in it."

"Come on, you gotta desensitize them to stuff like this at an early age," Limbo bargained with a challenging grin.

"I'm gonna have to agree with Rhap," Samba chimed in. "I'd rather you didn't."

"Is it gross?" Pirouette asked, the disapproval from her parents only serving to encourage her interest.

"Totally disgusting," Limbo answered with a chuckle.

"Cool."

"Alright, can we please drop this subject now before our daughter ends up mentally scarred?" Rhapsody begged.

"Can I ask about the bad people she caught?" Pirouette pleaded.

"As long as she keeps it PG."

"Right, no gory stuff," Limbo confirmed, taking a seat on the couch with the filly.

With their daughter now thoroughly distracted by Limbo's stories, Rhapsody finally took the time to talk to his ex-wife. "You came over for a reason, right?"

"Uh, yeah, sorry. Didn't mean to take up so much of your time," Samba said somewhat dejectedly.

"Look, I'm not trying to rush you or anything. You and your friend are welcome to have lunch here if you want." He sat at the dining room table and gestured for her to join him.

"You're being pretty hospitable today," Samba mentioned as she took a seat, though her tone lacked relief or gratitude.

"Well, it sounds like you had a harrowing night. You sure you're okay? Emotionally, I mean."

Samba sighed, flicking the long strands of her golden, wavy hair absentmindedly. "I'm still a little shaken up, if that's what you're asking." Obviously she wasn't going to mention the other reason why last night had been a roller coaster for her—the reason sitting in the next room sharing stories with her daughter. "But at least Limbo is offering to find the guy. I do feel a little bad though. She's already got a lot on her plate."

"Just let her do her thing. She's a professional." Rhapsody glanced toward the living, where Limbo was standing on the couch and boisterously reenacting her capers for Pirouette. "Supposedly. Just be careful on your way home from work, or have Tap walk you home."

"Actually, I'm taking some time off to recuperate from this."

"What?"

Samba saw the sudden look of disapproval in her ex's eyes. It wasn't the first time she'd seen it.

"Taking time off? Why?"

She stared back, vexed by the question. "What do you mean, 'why?' Do you know how I felt last night when that guy grabbed me? I was terrified."

Rhapsody peered briefly over his shoulder to the living room again, making sure his guest and his daughter weren't listening in. He continued speaking to Samba in a slightly hushed, but still reprimanding tone. "I get that, but you can't just put everything down because you had a scare."

"I don't feel comfortable with that guy still out there..." Samba responded, her voice timid as her ears folded back.

Rhapsody wasn't swayed at all by her helpless demeanor, continuing to scold her like a child. "Look, I'm not saying you shouldn't feel that way, but you're an adult. You can't just hide from your problems until they go away. You've got a life you need to keep on track."

Samba's heart sank a little, looking pleadingly into Rhapsody's eyes. "I really don't want to have this conversation right now."

Rhapsody narrowed his eyes at her. "Is that why you brought her along? To prevent me from telling you this again in front of company?"

She tried to challenge his glare with one of her own, but there was clearly less confidence in her pink eyes compared to his green ones. "No, obviously not. I wasn't even expecting to see her again after last night."

"Why not? Aren't you a client?"

"Well, she only promised that today."

Rhapsody brushed a hoof across his long, gelled bangs with a sigh. "So, what I'm understanding here, based on the fact that you're here right now, is that you weren't even planning to go tell the police what happened last night. You just came straight over here."

"I stopped at the pub to talk to Tap first."

"To request time off out of nowhere."

Samba furrowed her brow at all his assumptions, but, again, there wasn't much strength of will behind her glares. "Actually, Tap was the one who suggested I take time off."

"And did you say no?" Rhapsody asked, though it was obviously rhetorical.

"Yeah, of course. A-At first..." she admittedly shamefully.

Rhapsody shook his head. "Samba, you need to get your priorities in order. Yes, you're feeling vulnerable right now, but sitting around doing nothing isn't going to change anything. You've been working at that pub for, what, six months? And you're already taking a vacation? You're already living paycheck to paycheck as it is. What are you going to do when you run out of money while you're just sitting at home?"

"Why are you doing this?" Samba whimpered, a sparkle of moisture welling up in her eyes. "I was attacked by a psycho last night and now you're getting mad at me? I don't need all this extra stress right now."

"Because I know you, and I know what you're like. Samba, you can't coast through life by making people feel sorry for you. But you know the real reason we're having this conversation—why we keep having this conversation."

Samba's eyes shifted to the living room, where her daughter was enthusiastically listening to Limbo's no doubt exaggerated stories.

"Despite how little time you spend with her compared to me, that little girl still idolizes her mother. That's both heartwarming and worrying for me. I want you to be a part of her life, yes, but she's too young to understand why we got divorced. I don't want those things rubbing off on her. So, you see where I'm coming from here? I'm not arguing about this for your sake. It's for hers. And I want you to be considering that too when you make decisions like this."

Any will Samba had left with which to defend herself had been effectively drained. She could never win an argument with Rhapsody, so why bother when it was only going to make her feel worse about herself? "I think I should head home..." she muttered in defeat and self-pity as she weakly rose from her chair.

Rhapsody ran a hoof down his face, exasperated by the conversation. "Fine." He stood up as well, taking the leftover stir fry to put it in a plastic container for Samba to take home. "Your stuff is in a box in the living room."

Samba meandered over to find the small box sitting next to the couch beside Limbo and Pirouette. She took a deep breath to try and push back the negativity rooted in her mind, forcing a smile for her daughter. "Okay, Pira. Mommy's going now."

The filly finally diverted her attention away from the yarns Limbo was spinning, giving her mother a somewhat hurt look. "Already? Aw..." Her smile returned quickly, standing on the couch to flash her mother a cute smile. "Can Lady Limbo stay though?"

Samba quirked an eyebrow at Limbo, who was avoiding eye contact awkwardly. "'Lady' Limbo? You didn't tell her to call you that, did you?"

"What? Noooo, I'm more humble than that," Limbo blatantly lied.

"Can she stay, Mommy? Please?" Pirouette pleaded with puppy dog eyes.

Limbo answered before Samba had a chance to, patting the kid on the head playfully. "Sorry, sport, but I should probably get going too. Without your mom here, I'd just be stranger in your home."

"Nuh-uh! You're my friend!"

Limbo curled her lip, touched by the little filly's declaration. She was about to actually ask Samba if she could stay, but the drained expression on the dancer's face answered the question for her. Besides, it wasn't even Samba's place to give her that permission. "While I appreciate that, I really can't. I gotta find that bad guy who tried to hurt your mom."

"Oh, yeah! Okay! And when you catch him, you'll tell me the story, right?" Pirouette suggested excitedly.

"You got it. Uh, provided the details are family friendly." Limbo then headed over to the door to wait for Samba.

The other mare listlessly stared down at the box of odds and ends and leftover cosmetics that Rhapsody had gathered up for her to take home. She sighed, then her horn began to glow a pale pink. Limbo watched curiously as the same pink aura appeared around the box on the floor, but the magical light flickered weakly, and Samba seemed to be struggling just to lift the relatively small box even an inch off the ground before she had to drop it again.

Samba panted lightly, and it was difficult to tell if the redness that had flushed her cheeks was a result of exertion or embarrassment. "Um, Pira? Can you help Mommy, please?"

Pirouette happily agreed with a cute grin, the little unicorn using her own magic to wrap the box in a dark blue aura, lifting it with relative ease onto her mother's back.

"Thanks, sweetie," said Samba, smiling gratefully at her daughter.

Limbo observed the brief interaction curiously, her eyes shifting discreetly between the mother and child as Samba made to join her.

The blonde mare glanced back at her daughter one more time. "Okay, Pira. Mommy's leaving." Pirouette hurried over to give her mother a hug. "I'll visit again soon if I can." But the smile drained from Samba's face when Rhapsody came over to give her the packaged leftovers. "Bye, Rhapsody..." she bid him quietly.

He said nothing to her, but a lot could be conveyed through the expression on his face alone, and that certainly didn't escape Limbo's vigilant eye. However, he did manage a hospitable grin at his guest, though it looked a tad forced. "It was nice meeting you, Limbo. Good luck helping Samba."

"Likewise, and thanks."

"Bye, Mommy! Bye, Lady Limbo!"

Limbo gave the filly a wave as she and Samba took their leave, headed down the stairs, and back out onto the sidewalk to head back to Samba's place now that her errands were finished.

As they walked, Limbo found herself repeatedly glancing sidelong to her companion. Samba was keeping her gaze down, staring vacantly at the sidewalk as she trudged along. Limbo was pretty sure she knew what was on her mind, but also had a feeling it was something of a touchy subject. Regardless, as somepony who didn't advocate keeping feelings bottled up, and given her decision to provide emotional support for her client, Limbo felt the need to inquire.

"Soooo..." she started, trying to find the right words to approach the subject. "Couldn't help but notice that back there."

Samba sighed deeply. "Oh, you caught that, huh? I didn't think you were paying attention."

"It was hard not to, if I'm being honest."

"I guess it was unavoidable... Sorry," Samba apologized depressingly.

"You don't have to apologize. I'm sure it's a sensitive subject, but considering how much I've shared with you, I'm gonna be a little brazen here and ask about it anyway. You seemed like you were having difficulty lifting that box with your magic. What's up with that?"

Samba finally looked up and at Limbo, blinking in surprise. "Huh?"

"It just struck me as a little odd for a full grown unicorn to be unable to lift something like that. It doesn't seem very heavy. Even Pirouette was able to lift it without much issue.

"Oh, that." Samba shook her head, a little relieved, but also a mite embarrassed. "Uh, well... I, uh... I suffer from... f-funnel horn..." she muttered under her breath.

Limbo cocked an eyebrow. "Funnel horn?"

"It's a medical condition in some unicorns. It basically means I can't use very much magic."

"Like, your magic is weaker, or you don't have as much as other unicorns?"

"Neither. The doctors said I have the same amount of magic in me as the average unicorn, I just can't channel very much into my horn at once. The best way to explain is to use the name. Just picture pouring a bucket of water into a funnel. You might have a lot of water, but the funnel slows the flow down to a trickle. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah, I get it. Sounds rough. I mean, without magic, you're basically an earth pony. And I can say that, being one myself. Is it a common illness?"

"It's pretty common in young foals, but it's rare for an adult to have it. But it's not technically an illness or a disease. It's more like a... complication. See, infant unicorns don't have much control over their magic, but their bodies develop natural limiters over the first few months after birth to protect themselves from their own magic. After that, it's on the unicorn to overcome those limiters, usually through practice, or receiving some sort of shock that causes their magic to spike. Unicorn foals typically get over it around the time they hit puberty, usually when they get their cutie mark since their magic tends to synergize with their special talent."

"And that never happened to you?"

Samba shook her head. "Nope. My special talent is dancing, and that doesn't have anything to do with magic." She sighed once more, a self-defeated frown curling her lips. "And I've lived a pretty laid back life. So there's never really been anything to give me a significant enough shock to overcome it."

"Hmm..."

Samba glanced at Limbo. The zombie mare seemed to be pondering something. "What's wrong?"

"You said foals usually overcome it around puberty, when they earn their cutie mark. But Pira is, what, five?"

"She will be pretty soon. Her fifth birthday is coming up in a few months."

"She seemed pretty adept with her magic for such a young filly, even though she didn't have her cutie mark."

Samba actually managed a proud smile. "Oh, yeah. I mean, she certainly didn't get that from me, that happens sometimes. Some foals learn to use their magic at much younger ages. Those unicorns are considered 'gifted' since having access to magic at a younger age gives them more time to hone it. Rhapsody and I are actually planning on enrolling Pira into Princess Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns later this year."

Limbo grinned, impressed by the news. "Really? That's pretty cool. Good for her."

Samba's smile faltered slightly, her gaze falling to the sidewalk again. "Yeah... I just wish I could help her study for the entrance exam. It just hammers home how useless I am as a parent... I can't raise her properly, I can't teach her anything..."

"You say that, but she clearly loves you, and you love her too," Limbo pointed out judging by the interactions she'd just seen.

"Of course I do. She's my daughter. Pira means the world to me. But she probably sees me more as a friend than a parent, because that's all I really can be." Her ears drooped guiltily. "The problem is... if you were to put me in a situation where it was my life or hers, I would probably hesitate. And I hate myself for that. A good parent would sacrifice themselves in an instant to save their child."

Limbo could clearly see the self-loathing and guilt taking root in Samba's head. It felt like they'd come full circle from their conversation earlier that day. "Do you agree with Rhasody? Do you think you're a bad influence on Pirouette?"

Samba stared at her after that peculiar comment.

"Sorry, I overheard your discussion," Limbo apologized. "I brought up the magic thing to try and take your mind off it."

Samba sighed. There was no sense in pushing her emotions down now when Limbo was pretty much aware of the problem and the exact relationship between her and Rhapsody. "I can't say I disagree with him. Our divorce really shined a light on exactly what kind of person I really am. There've been plenty of times where I thought it might be better if I just stayed out of Pira's life altogether. Seeing the smile on her face when I visit is both heartwarming and painful. Rhapsody is right: I don't want her to turn out like me. But I also don't want her to hate me..."

"So what are you going to do about it?"

Now that was a question Samba felt like she'd heard a million times, both from Rhapsody and herself. What was she going to do about it? What could she do about? But no matter how many times the question was raised, she only gave a little consideration before giving up on it. "I'm not like you Limbo. Something bad happens to you and you don't just sit around and mope about it. You go out there and try to fix it, no matter what it takes. I don't have that kind of drive."

"Maybe, but you've already taken the first step."

Samba stared, slightly confused. "What?"

"As a detective, the first step in any case is to identify the issue. After that, you search for any possible way to resolve the issue. And it doesn't happen overnight. Some cases take a long time to resolve. The Ghost of Baltimare might be my priority, but I've been on that case for a few years now. Looking for a solution to a problem can take an exorbitant amount of time. The trick is to keep persevering even if it looks hopeless. You've identified your own faults, now all you have to do is... well, something. I know that's an easier-said-than-done sorta thing, but that's just my two bits. Do with that what you will."

Samba stared down at the sidewalk again, but not so much in depression. She contemplated Limbo's words. It wasn't like she hadn't heard something similar before. Rhapsody had told her on multiple occasions that she needed to adjust her attitude and stop relying too heavily on other people to carry her through life. He tried to "fix" her, but she wasn't receptive, so he gave up and divorced her. Now, even if she tried to change, she had nopony to help her.

At least, not until now.

Samba stared at Limbo, but said nothing. The detective quirked an eyebrow at the oddly intense look in Samba's eyes.

It was like she'd said: Limbo had the drive that Samba lacked. And Limbo had just explained the correlation between the two of them. Samba didn't want to lean too hard on anypony—that wouldn't solve the underlying problem—but having somepony to aid her would still help her make the necessary advancements. As scared as she was about the person she saw herself as, there had to come a point where she looked deep within herself, suppressed any doubts or negativity, and just told herself to do something. Limbo had motivation, so she just needed to find her own. And she already knew what that would be: Pirouette. Of course, her daughter would be the reason she did anything in an attempt to improve herself. And if she was a bad influence on Pirouette, then maybe Samba just needed somepony like Limbo to be a good influence on her. She just needed to muster up the willpower to do anything to finally try and fix the problem.

And at that moment, something clicked inside Samba's brain, and she spoke without thinking.

"I want to be a detective."

Limbo drew back, her eyebrow threatening to detach itself from her forehead due to how high it was raised. "Huh?"

"Well, I mean, I wanna help you."

Limbo's expression changed none. "I repeat: Huh?"

She took a determined step toward Limbo, forcing the green mare to take one of her own, but backward. "I want to help you catch that guy who attacked me. I want to help you catch the Ghost."

Limbo blinked, still befuddled by the sudden and uncharacteristic determination in Samba's eyes. She looked almost manic, her pink eyes narrowed like focused needles. "I, uh... don't know if I want to keep fixating on this, but... Huh?"

"Please just say I can help!" Samba pleaded desperately. "It's taking every ounce of my willpower to keep insisting and if you say yes I'll feel obligated to help. Just do it before I backpedal!"

"Okay, fine! You can help! Geez..." Limbo told her, holding her hooves up defensively. "This is, uh... just kinda out of nowhere. I know I compared your problem to being a detective, but I didn't think you'd interpret it literally."

Having gotten her answer, Samba took a breath to compose herself. "I know, I'm sorry, but I had to ask while I felt the motivation."

"Ask? I felt like I was being held at knifepoint."

"Besides, Rhapsody had a point. I don't have a job right now, and I do kinda need money." She grinned awkwardly. "Sorry to twist your leg like that, but I'm kinda desperate right now if you couldn't tell."

Limbo sighed, scratching her ear uncomfortably. "No kidding. But, whatever, I get it. Obviously it's more complicated than just 'becoming' a detective because you suddenly have the motivation. I have police training and all that jazz. But I guess I could, I dunno... use an assistant or something. Webber's only so much help around the office." She twitched suddenly, a disgruntled grimace appearing on her face. "What did say about the bathtub?!"

An elated smile graced Samba's lips. "Thank you! I promise I'll put every ounce of effort into this!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm such a giver. Anyway, I guess meet me at my apartment tomorrow morning, eight o' clock, and we'll discuss it, 'kay?"

Limbo was caught off guard when Samba suddenly tackled her with a grateful hug. Samba didn't even think about the fact that she was hugging a corpse until she felt how cold Limbo's body was, but she didn't have time to comment about it since the sound of clattering plastic and metal interrupted the moment. The two glanced down to find Samba's box of stuff on the ground and spilled all over the sidewalk, though thankfully the lid remained securely on her lunch's container.

Samba glanced to Limbo with an embarrassed blush, another awkward grin appearing.

Limbo rolled her eye with an exasperated sigh. "Let me help with that..."