From Their Eyes

by moviemaster8510

Arrival, From His Eyes

I don’t know how much more I can take of this. Months of grueling paperwork, online forms, and interview after uncomfortable interview should have no right to end this excruciatingly. I just want to get it over with, or at least be able to play on my phone while I wait to get it over with.

I know, I know, government red tape, the usual.

Truth be told, I’m looking very much forward to meeting my new “roommate.” At least, that’s what Mom likes to think of them. Is he a boy? Is she a girl? The fact that I don’t know yet and I’m meeting them today; what a shitshow.

I hear a hand grip the door handle outside the office, the loud, quick clunk that follows immediately after giving me a jolt. The door comes open, and our agent has finally returned. Hopefully with some useful information.

“Sorry for the wait.” The agent’s office is already cramped as it is, making his more rotund physique all the more comical.

No, I shouldn’t think that. I was nearly that fat once upon a time; I’m sure he’s trying hard to lose it; probably has a more efficient method than I used.

“We just wanted to check you in at the Equestria compound,” he explains in a chortle. “Sounds like your new guest has been waiting just as eagerly and early as you two!”

Mom beside me chuckles to humor him. She raises her hand to nudge me to go along, but she puts it back down. Thank you, Mom.

He seems content with having gotten Mom to laugh, so he continues. “I don’t know what you were expecting in terms of your new guest, but we have her information right here.”

He slides the folder to us, and Mom motions to pick it up, but to be fair, she’ll be my roommate, so I get first dibs. Snatching the folder off the table, I look through her file.

Christ, even her name is silly. Lettuce Leaf. Please let her be open to a nickname, or, even better, already have one. She’s an earth pony. As much as I want to complain about not getting to host a pegasus or a unicorn, the fact I’m here and going to be living with the pony in this picture should already be a blessing enough.

And holy shit, Manehattan? Mane-fucking-hattan? Either way, I’ve got more pressing matters to ask about.

“Something troubling you?” I look up to the agent with his eyes frozen right on me. Damn, am I really that obvious?

“Are there any dietary concerns I should be aware of for… Lettuce? Or am I supposed to, like, say the whole name, Lettuce Leaf? Anyway, I mean, I already stocked my fridges for her.”

“Ms. Leaf did not state any abnormal dietary restrictions in her evaluation, but, as I’m sure you read in the documents we provided a few weeks ago, these ponies’ regular diets are still far from normal compared to horses and ponies on our world, so just stick to that list of foods and Ms. Leaf will be living the high life!”

I nod.

“Before I get any farther into your final briefing, I just wanted to ask how you feel about the arrival ceremony that’s been planned for Ms. Leaf.”

“Yeah? What about it?”

“It says in your medical history that you’re high-functioning autistic. There’s going to be a lot of cameras and media there, so I just don’t know how comfort–”

“I’ll be fine, as long as I’m not getting swarmed by microphones and reporters shouting in my face, that is.”

He pauses. “Would you like to prepare some written statements and answers before then?”

I raise my eyes and frown as wide as I can without being offensively rude; I guess that settles that. “Can I borrow a pen?”

With a single accepting nod, he leans to the side to open his desk drawer before pulling out a list of media-approved questions. As he slides the paper toward me, he also grabs a pen from small metal basket and places it on the paper.

I immediately press my thumb against the button and begin writing my answers. “And if I do this, that means that the press won’t touch me right?”

The agent glances off to the side, knowing that a 100% “no” would be a lie. “There may be one or two reporters who may want a follow-up question.”

My mother finally puts her hand on my arm, and it tenses up a bit as I try to put my mind on the track of finishing this hopefully last form. “It’ll be good practice for when you have to start talking to Lettuce.”

Now I have to stop and turn my whole head to look at her. “Are you suggesting that our conversations are going to her getting in my face and shouting rapid-fire questions at me?” Mom is about to speak, but I’m not letting her this time. “Because if that’s the case, I may have to opt out of this now.”

“Dave, you know you can’t just quit now–”

“I know!” I’m careful not to shout, or, what Mom likes to call “shouting.” “Listen, I’m already on edge trying to finalize all this, and I’m sure Lettuce or Lettuce Leaf or whatever is going to be super cool, but the less people rushing into my personal space, the better, okay?”

I put my head back down and continue finishing out this damn paper. Mom is the first to break the silence. “Yeah, that’s okay. That’s okay?” she says back to the agent.

“I’ll be sure to inform the press not to bother him.”

“Thank you.”

“Thanks!” I didn’t mean to sound curt nor speak over Mom. I just really want to get home now.