> And the Dance Takes Two
>  by Harp's'ong
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Prologue
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Dapples looked up to see Prose glancing in his direction. Again. “Is everything alright?”
Prose responded with a cursory nod. “Yeah. Everything’s fine,” he said, before returning his attention to the paper in front of him. Dapples nodded in assent, but wasn’t fully convinced. Something was going on with the librarian tonight.
Since his messy breakup, Dapples had been spending more and more time in Winnywood, with the pony who had very quickly become his best friend. Dapples had also learned that Prose was a burner of the midnight oil, and often stayed up long past closing to work on his poetry. Once Prose had fully convinced the unicorn that the sounds of his typewriter wouldn’t interfere with the creative process, Prose and Dapples had begun staying up together to write, fueled by the caffeine of endless cups of tea and coffee, respectively. Being in the presence of someone else working to create proved a great drive for both of them, as it sent them into a friendly, unspoken competition with each other.  During lulls, one of them might make them a light snack, and if the creative juices weren’t flowing they could talk until one of them started yawning.
In any regard, Dapples felt it was safe to say that he knew Prose well at this point. One of his quirks was a bad habit he fell into whenever he was nervous, usually because he was suffering from a case of writer’s block. He chewed on the top of his quills. Dapples could always tell when Prose was having a rough week creatively, because his quill looked like it belonged to a bird who had been mangled by a dragon.
The quill Prose was using tonight was brand new (Dapples had fetched it himself), but the very top tufts of the feather were shredded to bits. And Prose was still chewing, oblivious to the devastation he was leaving in his wake.
Dapples turned to his own paper, spooled in the typewriter. Blank. He wasn’t doing any better himself. He wasn’t sure whether he could blame Prose for the tabula rasa that was his brain, but it certainly wasn’t helping. Something was wrong, wrong enough to have the pony on edge, but not wrong enough to have him talking. The lines of communication were always open, about anything, and Dapples couldn’t imagine Prose finding any topic to taboo to discuss with him. He focused his magic in his horn.
tap tap tap tap
POOP
“Another bestseller,” Dapples said with a sigh.
“What was that?” asked Prose.
Dapples shook his head. “Nothing. Just setting the literary world on fire, as usual.” He gave a weak chuckle.
Prose responded with a louder chuckle. “Yeah! That’s us! Setting the literary world on fire together!”
“Together?” asked Dapples.
“Or apart!” returned Prose quickly. “It can be together, it can be apart, it doesn’t really matter. We got our own things we’re good at it. We don’t need each other. I mean, it’s totally cool that we’re working together… here… in this room right now.”
“Prose?”
“That is cool, right?”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Of course!” Prose turned his attention back towards the table, before glancing at his teacup. He scooped it up and ran out of the room. “Just gotta get some more tea! Back in a bit!”
Dapples blinked. What the hay was happening here?
“Dapples, could you come here?” said the voice in the kitchen.
Upon trotting into the kitchen, Dapples found Prose staring at the floor. He snorted. “That’s it. You really need to tell me what’s up, because this is getting ridiculous.”
Without looking up, Prose asked “What do you know about the upcoming dance?”
“The prom?” Lately, fliers had been appearing all over the kingdom for a dance to be held at Canterlot Castle. Unlike the Grand Galloping Gala, this was a general event, and pretty much any pony who wanted to come was able to go, provided they brought a date. It was half-affectionately and half-disparagingly referred to as The Pony Prom. Dapples shrugged. “I imagine I know just as much as you do.”
“I’m thinking I might go.”
“Oh.” Dapples stopped and stared for a moment. “Alright.”
“Is that it?”
“What?”
“Just alright?”
Dapples looked around a moment, unsure how he was supposed to respond. For some reason, he was getting irritated, even a little angry. “Yeah, alright. What do you want me to say?”
“It’s a big thing, Dapples.”
“It’s just a dance, Prose.”
“I think it sounds like fun.”
“Ooh, getting all dressed up and staying out late!” Dapples waved his forelegs wildly. “What a new experience for you!”
Prose scrunched his face up. “So you think it’s stupid.”
Dapples turned his back on the poet and pouted. “Yes, I do.”
“You don’t even know who I’m going with.”
“I don’t care.”
“It’s another stallion,” said Prose.
“Well, DUH.”
“And he’s a unicorn.”
“No surprise there, either.”
“And he has spots.”
Dapples laughed. “Man, you sure know how to pick…” He stopped mid-sentence, and turned around to face Prose, who now wore a small smile.  He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
“Dapples, will you go to The Pony Prom with me?”
The unicorn couldn‘t help but blush. “Yes,” he said, without a second thought.
Prose bounded forward and wrapped his forelegs around Dapples’ neck. “Oh, you had me so scared there for a second. You don’t really think the dance is stupid, do you?”
Dapples squeezed back. “Well, maybe a little” he admitted, “but it will be a lot better with you there.”
“We’ve got to plan what we’re going to wear!” Prose said, excitedly, holding Dapples by his withers as he pulled out of the embrace. But as he moved into a face-to-face position, their noses made contact, and they both froze. They felt the warmth rise in their cheeks, and for a moment they found themselves avoiding looking each other directly in the eye, while simultaneously unable to separate.
“This is going to be an interesting couple of months, Prose,” said Dapples, his voice hushed.
“I think we’re an interesting couple of ponies,” Prose said with a gulp, before taking a step back. He shuffled his hooves. “I think I’m gonna call it a night.”
“Yeah, me too. You alright?”
Prose nodded and smiled. “Definitely.” He turned and trotted off towards his bedroom, but before he entered, he turned around. “Dapples?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“Never a problem, Prose,” Dapples said with a grin, and he watched the blue pony close the door behind him. For a moment, he stood there, just looking at the door, half wanting it to swing back open again. When it didn’t, he walked over to the window and looked out into the starless night. Things were changing, to be sure. Dapples wasn’t sure what to make of them, and he knew that nopony could tell him what was going to happen next. But no matter what happened in the future, in the present, he couldn’t stop smiling.
> And the Dance Takes Two
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

     Prose waited at the lobby of their Canterlot hotel. Outside it rained, fat little droplets came down in an afternoon drizzle that cast the streetlamps in fog. He glanced across the lobby to a stairwell, waiting for his friend to return with an umbrella before they set out for Equestria Couples Dance. More informally known as the pony prom for adults. It was open to the public, all one needed was their ID and a partner.
Prose watched a mare and her stallion walk into the rain, an umbrella over them both to shield their formal wear from the elements. They were regulars of the annual event, and spoke of the clear skies over the dance. Prose hoped so; he didn’t want to go to all this trouble if his clothes just got sopping wet. He wore a long, coffee-cream brown dress shirt with a red necktie.
Dapples returned wearing a blue vest with a white dress shirt underneath, the sleeves rolled halfway up his forelegs and a black necktie cinched around his neck. When he approached Prose caught the whiff of cologne he must have spritzed when he retrieved the umbrella from their room. Said item levitated besides Dapples.
He said, “I think I got a crazy idea.”
“Don’t open the umbrella inside, that’s bad luck and you know it.”
Dapples rolled his eyes. “So funny, but I mean it. I think you’ll like it too.”
Prose sat back on his haunches. “Okay, I’ve braced myself.”
Dapples moved closer to allow a pair of giggling mares to get by. “Let’s not go to the dance.”
Prose said, “That is crazy.”
“Think about it? How many of these ponies are walking right out of the city? I can’t think of another time of the year where Canterlot becomes a ghost town. For half the night the city empties out, foals are asleep and there’s no pony on the street.”
“I don’t—”
“We’ll have the whole town to ourselves. When was the last time you were in Canterlot and could say that, hmm?”
Prose chewed on his lip. He said, “I’m not so sure. This is sort of a big deal to me. I never got the chance to go when I lived here, and when me and Dream Weaver were together… we could never afford the trip.” He looked down at his hooves. “I mean, I don’t want to be a downer but—”
Dapples cupped Prose’s chin in his hoof and lifted it so their gazes met. “Hey, if it’s important to you, it’s important to me. I just want us both to enjoy ourselves tonight.” He let go. “Make sure it’s something memorable for both of us. Just so long as that something isn’t the two of us dancing.”
“I’m sure security will haul us out if we so much as touch a dance floor,” Prose said.
“That just means we’ll have to keep you from the cider,” Dapples said.
Prose got up and they both walked to the door. Prose pushed it open and said, “After you.”
“Such the gentlecolt.”
“You’ve got the umbrella, I’m not going to stand in the rain while I wait for you to open it,” Prose said.
“Oh you mean the one I got just for me?” he said while he trotted outside. He opened it with his magic and glanced over his shoulder.
“Going to stand there?”
“Going to share?”
“Only if you’re okay with being close,” Dapples said before the umbrella tilted in Prose’s direction. Prose stepped underneath and flared his nostrils.
“I do love the smell of rain.”
“Just not the wet part?”
“Well I don’t want to show up looking like a mess,” Prose said. Up and down the road carriages went plucking out richer pairs to take them to the valley where the dance was held. The brave and poor strode the sidewalk in a parade of open umbrellas. From their vantage point at their hotel’s porch, Prose said, “There’s a lot more ponies going to this thing than I thought…”
“The Equestria Couples Dance isn’t the Dapples and Prose dance,” his friend pointed out. “Ready?”
“Just a second,” Prose said. The thought of a crowd this large… he knew where the dance would be held, in a valley an hour’s walk from there. A place called the Racetrack, it was big alright. But if this was a sampling of the crowd he could expect… Prose imagined sweaty bodies, tails and trains of dresses stepped on constantly. Ponies bickering and squabbling and struggling for the happiness and meaning of the night. Prose glanced at Dapples, who scanned the crowd for an opening they could fill.
Prose said, “There’s a backdoor to the hotel, right?”
“Wouldn’t be up to fire-codes without one,” Dapples said. “Thinking of a detour?”
“Just a little one,” Prose said before the two went back inside. Dapples closed the umbrella and they crossed a hallway on the opposite side of the lobby where a pair of double doors waited. On the other side they entered an empty alley. Dapples opened his umbrella for them both, but Prose ducked into the rain.
“What are you doing?” Dapples asked.
“I figured my appearance shouldn’t matter if we’re not going to the prom.”
The umbrella slouched in the air. “You mean…”
Prose said, “Just so long as you know where you’re taking me.”
“I figured you’d just want to splash around in puddles all night,” Dapples said while the umbrella closed and dropped next to the door.
“You got me, that’s my dream right there.”
Dapples trotted to the street behind the hotel. Prose followed him when he said, “I know the perfect place then.”
The next street over afforded less traffic. The road there ended in a cul-de-sac and offered no clear way out of the city. Yet crowd of ponies gathered by one of the buildings at the end of the street—a slouched warehouse that grumbled a muffled slur of music. No pony here brought an umbrella, some even lingered in the road and splashed others, but it didn’t matter. Their clothes came in ripped hems and torn sleeves.
Prose said, “Any idea—”
“Oh-ho-ho… we have to stop by there.”
“Huh?”
“It’s the anti-prom, been wondering where this was going to pop up this year.”
“No invitations I guess?”
“They’re sort of illegal, no permits or anything like that,” Dapples said. “But the guards don’t shut them down until things get too loud and do they get loud.”
“Sounds wild.”
“It is,” Dapples said. “Do you want to hop in? Just for a bit.”
The suggestion made Prose’s stomach turn a little, but he didn’t want to back down now. Not when the rain already soaked his clothes and made it impossible to retreat back to the real event with any decency. Prose puffed out his chest and trotted past Dapples. He whipped his tail against his friend’s face. “Coming?”
“Only if you promise to act like this more often. Boring just doesn’t fit you was well,” Dapples said.
“I’m not boring.”
“You’re a librarian, you reek of boring.”
“Bah.”
“Seriously, what’s your best pick up line? Hey there filly, are you ready to be checked out?” Dapples said as the two reached the line to the warehouse. He stamped his hoof on the street. “Wham! Hoof to the face.”
“I’d never say that.”
“Of course you wouldn’t, you’d say something worse because you’re a librarian.”
“Alright, what about you? A writer no one knows about. Hey there filly…” Prose tried to think while Dapples smirked.
“I’m not a librarian,” Dapples said. “After dealing with you she’d practically jump on top of me.”
Prose harrumphed when they reached the double doors. The music so loud now they needed to raise their voices when they met the bouncer there. A thick pegasus with a coal colored coat and electric blue mane with red highlights. His cutie mark was a punching bag.
He said, “Think you two are at the wrong dance.”
Dapples said, “We sort of realized how awful it was going to be so we ditched our dates and came here.” Dapples leaned over and whispered into Prose’s ear. “Play along, you’re not supposed to come to the anti-prom with a date.”
“What’d you just say?” the bouncer said.
“Friend’s never been before. Just telling him how his outfit won’t do as it is,” Dapples said. “Let me help you with that.” He reached over with his teeth, tilting his head to keep his horn from goring Prose, and grabbed his collar. He jerked and tore down the first three buttons, making Prose gasp. When Dapples came back to eye level he winked and plucked Prose’s boutonniere from his shirt and stuck it in his tail. Prose felt Dapples’ magic tying it there with his hair while his tie came loose at the same time. Dapples finished and turned to the bouncer. “Good enough?”
The bouncer said, “What about you?” Dapples threw off his vest and tie. “Alright, good enough. But hey, you two separate when you get inside. I don’t like liars, if I catch wind that you two are together.” His tail snapped against his tail. “I may drop you both from a roof somewhere.”
Prose gulped. Dapples shrugged. “Right right.” Dapples strolled in with Prose clinging to him. When he got past the doors he slammed into a wall of music. His ears nearly popped, inside things were so much louder—must’ve used magic to dampen the noise outside. How did this building even stay up? There was a central crowd of ponies jumping to the music. On the far end of the warehouse was a stage flanked with massive stereos. On top of one stereo danced a black zebra unicorn, his mane and stripes a colorful neon rainbow. He was whipping his head around, his mane flashing in the lights and whirling like some of the glow-sticks ponies in the crowd wore over their hooves and necks. The zebra leapt from the stereo, rolled when he hit the stage and popped back in front of a microphone stand. He began singing, his smooth voice wrestled with the music to be heard.
“Cool huh?” Dapples said. He had to shout in Prose’s ear to be heard.
The earth pony turned to him and said, “What are we supposed to do?”
“Dance you moron.”
“I thought we didn’t—”
But Dapples shoved him to the crowd. Prose bumped flanks with a pony bouncing to the music. Dapples mimicked the ponies around them. Prose shook his head and tried to join in. He kept his focus by trying to jump high enough to keep watching the singer. He strutted along the edge of the stage while microphone levitated upside down in the air as he sung. When the music reached bridge his hooves beat against the floor with every note. The microphone stand swept under his legs and with a flourish the zebra jumped on the stand, twisting in the air so his flank faced the audience. The stand flung him forward in a flip and his lustrous mane and tail whirled in the air like a sparkler before he landed.
There was a break in the music.
Things died to the throb of a single speaker, a pulse that relieved Prose’s aching ears. He felt his legs wobble a little when the jumping sputtered out. The smell of sweat and wet coats saturated his nostrils. His mane clung to his head and swirls of hair fell over his eyes. On the stage the zebra had his back to the crowd, stamping a hoof to the beat. He wheeled around and said, “Having a good night, Canterlot?”
The crowd assent. Dapples howled right along with them but noticed Prose didn’t. The unicorn ribbed him and said, “Come on, cut loose and have some fun. We’ve got the whole night ahead of us.”
“Well… I’m in a bit of a spot,” the zebra continued. “I’m up here all hot and wired, but you guys already made my voice tired. So you’ll all sing this next part, but don’t worry I’ll give you your start.”
And the music kicked back up, a crescendo of chords stretched out while the zebra sang, “Waaaaaaay-oh!” The microphone turned its head to the audience, and the audience answered in kind. The beat picked back up while the zebra sang the next part, “Hey-hey-hey oh!” The crowd answered again and this time Prose raised his voice. He took a deep breath and Dapples nudged him with his shoulder.
“Now you got it,” Dapples said.
“Hey-oh waaaaay-oh!” the zebra went before his rag-tag choir echoed. “Alright fillies and colts, you got down the nuts a bolts. Let me hear you sing it!” The crescendo of chords hit again and the crowd gave its bone rattling chant. When the bass hit its rhythm again they filtered through the next part, then the next. And repeated. The zebra said, “My grandmother is louder than all you!” So the crowd rubbed its throat raw. The timbers above them trembled. “Let’s make all those stiff-necks at the prom hear us!” the zebra said when they reached the next set. But when Prose opened his mouth he felt something snatch his tail and he yelped.
When he twisted around he saw the bouncer from the door had him between his teeth, and his glare made Prose’s racing heart crash. He snarled something Prose didn’t hear but he knew why the bouncer had grabbed him. He only needed to look through the door to see Prose and Dapples still together.
Dapples bucked and his hind hooves clacked against the bouncer’s jaw. The bouncer stumbled backwards and Dapples shouted in Prose’s ear. “Let’s get out of here!”
They both dashed into the rain. The drops pelted their coats. Dapples led them back to the alley they came from. But when they reached it the bouncer dove from the air in front of them. He tried to grab Dapples, his teeth gnashed together when the unicorn ducked under the snap. He said, “You idiots forget I fly?”
Dapples kicked water into his eyes and left the bouncer shaking it out. “This way!” he called but Prose already followed him. Prose glanced over his shoulder and saw two earth ponies chasing them too, big hulking stallions that looked just as mean.
“Uh, there’s more of them.”
Dapples said, “That’s what I get for kicking that stupid pegasus. Come on, I know a house not far from here we can stay at.” Dapples galloped ahead and turned down a side road. Prose almost tumbled when he turned to enter the street. Dapples leapt a fence, then Prose. He landed in a small yard converted into a garden. A patio rested in the center, with an overflowing stream cutting across the back end—
Dapples shoved Prose against the fence and cupped a hoof over his mouth. For a moment Prose could not move and was only aware of the other pony’s warmth against him. Overhead Prose heard the beat of a pegasus’ wings. In the road beside them the pony landed, two more came to a stop.
The bouncer nickered. “This rain is making it impossible to see, but they couldn’t have gone far.”
“Do we have to stand out here? We weren’t the one who got kicked in the face by some pudgy unicorn.”
Dapples flared his nostrils.
Prose whispered, “You’re not, take it easy.”
“Just look for him alright? You know the rules, somepony kicks a bouncer we all take turns kicking them.” The three split up, when Prose could no longer hear their hoofsteps Dapples let go.
“What do we do now?” Prose asked.
Dapples said, “I know the pony who lives here personally, back when I lived in Canterlot. He had a spare key he told me about that he keeps back here.”
Prose said, “So you just know them, huh?”
Dapples chose to ignore Prose and trotted across the garden. “I don’t sleep with everypony I meet you know.”
Prose made his way underneath the porch and out of the rain. “Just the one’s without diseases, then.”
Dapples pushed aside to garden rocks and said, “Aha.” He levitated a key into the air and went to the door. He fit the key in and said, “I’m serious. This guy and I have never done anything, he’s a friend. A big fan of my work.”
“Fair enough.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“Just wondering why he’d give you the key to his home, then.”
Dapples turned the lock. “The invitation was always there.” He opened the door. “I just never took it.”
Prose scuffed his hooves free of mud on the doormat and walked inside. He entered a small but spotless kitchen. He said while Dapples shut the door behind them, “Until now, of course.”
“I’m sure when we explain things to him he’ll understand,” Dapples said.
“We just needed to break in to keep our bones from being broken.”
“We’ll only be here an hour at most, just enough to dry off and get those thugs to stop looking for us,” Dapples said. He walked past Prose, down a hallway into a small den. He sat on one of the floor cushions there and said, “Best we don’t enter and disturb the actual boutique, don’t want to upset him.”
Prose entered the room. It was dimly lit by a small window. Several cushions lied around a low table with a tea set left out on top of it. In the corner was a phonogram. There lingered a smell of herbs, and on a small desk beside the door rested a half used scented candle. Prose said, “What do we do now?”
“Relax for a minute, let our coats dry,” Dapples said. With his magic he began unbuttoning his shirt. He levitated it to the kitchen sink to keep more water from dripping on the floor. “You want help with yours?” Dapples said while Prose fiddled with his tie.
Prose grunted while he tried to get the necktie over his head, his eyes shut tight so that he did not know Dapples stood next to him until he smelt the stallion’s dampened cologne. “Here,” he whispered and Prose felt the unicorn’s nose brush along his throat. He bit down on the end of the necktie and pulled the knot loose. Prose remained still while Dapples undid his buttons, his hooves pressing against the earth pony’s barrel while he worked them free. When the last button fell Dapples’ neck slid against Prose’s as he grabbed the shirt and pulled it over Prose’s head. Prose peeled off the sleeves and the shirt floated to the sink. He barely noticed.
“Why…” Prose said, “W-wouldn’t it have been easier to have used your magic?”
Dapples smiled. “I think some things deserve a more delicate touch.” He turned around and this time Dapples’ tail whipped Prose in the face. He went to the phonogram and set the record there before turning the crank a few times. He said, “You know I figure even if we didn’t go to the actual prom, I still owe you a dance.”
Dapples horn glowed and the furniture in the room slid to the walls, leaving an open space of hardwood in the middle. The phonogram began to play a few soft piano notes that tuned in with the muffled sound of rain outside. Dapples approached Prose and offered his right hoof. Prose rested his fetlock against his friend’s as a cello became the foreground of the music. Its bow waxed its harmonies and Dapples pulled Prose close, until their shoulders almost touched. Their right hooves remained cupped against each other as the two began to sway to the music.
Neither could do anything too complex, but they both kept in step and waltzed about the room, following the alternating rhythms of the cello and piano alike. When one instrument switched to the lead so too did Dapples and Prose switch. Prose’s mind sank into the moment and gave in to the sensory. The smell of his cologne, the warmth of his breath on Prose’s neck, and the steady beat Prose felt against his chest, two hearts keeping time to the music.
Dapples said softly, “Your boutonniere fell off.”
“Huh? Oh… yeah I guess it did. I don’t mind, though.” Prose leaned his neck against Dapples’. “This is nice.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, I was real worried I’d botched everything.”
“I can’t think of anywhere else I’d want to be right now.”
The music faded out and Dapples pulled away. “You know we really lucked out. I had no idea what that would play.”
Prose chuckled. “Yeah you’re right, if that played anymore rave music I’d be done. So maybe it was you who lucked out.” Prose leaned forward and nuzzled Dapples’ cheek. “But then again, I’m pretty sure I lucked out with you.”
Prose felt heat flush Dapples cheeks’ and the unicorn turned away. “Sorry, just uh… thought I’m going to sneeze or something.”
“Hehe, sneeze huh?”
Dapples faced him and despite the blush said, “Prose I think I—”
A guard pony kicked open the door and both Prose and Dapples started. It was a white stallion with his gold armor appearing a dimmer bronze in the lighting. He said, “You two don’t make a move.”
“H-h-hey what’s up?” Dapples said.
“Breaking and entering the only thing if you’re lucky,” the guard said.
Dapples said, “We just entered, no breaking. I got an invitation—”
“Then why did the owner of this residence grab me and tell me he heard music being played in his home when he expected no company?”
Dapples glanced at Prose. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s alright,” Prose said.
“That’s enough out of both of you. You’re coming with me to the barracks. You will spend the night in jail, maybe longer if the homeowner decides to press charges.”
Dapples said, “Thank goodness we didn’t touch any of his clothes then!”
The guard stamped his hoof. “Just come with me.”
“Better than the bouncers,” Prose mumbled.
They followed the guard through the boutique and out the front door. There a large green unicorn stallion with a blond mane and blue dress waited beside his date. A smaller blond coated orange maned earth pony who Prose felt he’d seen before. Dapples said, “Hey there Sterling, how about we catch up over tea tomorrow? Right now me and Prose are going to go have a sleepover with this guard.”
“Quiet you!”

“The straw’s a nice touch,” Prose said as the two entered their temporary cell together. A dim lantern burned overhead to give them a source of light. They had less space than the den from before. The guard who put them in there already hurried out of the dungeon.
Dapples sat down in a corner, “I’m really sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Prose said.
“No it’s not, I ruined you’re night,” Dapples said. “At least if we went to the stupid dance we wouldn’t be in jail. Pretty sure anything is better than this.”
Prose sat beside Dapples and draped a foreleg over his shoulder. He pulled the unicorn into his side and said, “How about this, then? You make it up to me when we get out of here? Ask me out on a normal date. Nothing fancy, just food and talk and we’ll see where things go from there. There’s this one deli I loved to go to as a colt.”
Dapples asked, “Well what’s the food like?”
“Heard their shawarma’s won awards, but I always went for their gyros. Very tasty stuff.”
“Gyro’s are pretty close to a shawarma…” Dapples said. “Would you like to go out and get dinner with me, Prose?”
“I’d love to, Dapples.”