> Hoofston, We Have a Problem > by Scotishbro > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- > Well, That Was Unexpected > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Special Agent Jason Higgins wasn’t exactly the kind of person you could label as ‘average’. Average doesn’t go and serve 2 tours in Korea and get medically discharged, only to find a way to continue on his career by joining the FBI and working his way up the ladder into becoming the Chief Officer of Foreign Diplomacy under the President himself. No, Agent Higgins was not your average man, nor was he extraordinary. He was 5 foot 11, black hair, and was clean shaven. He had a wife, 2 beautiful children, and a modest apartment near Capitol Hill. He was an American man, serving his country in any way he could. Thats why when a talking purple unicorn hijaked a TV broadcast and made her and her nations presence known to millions worldwide, he was the perfect combination of freaked out and knowing what to do. — “So, Dorothy, which suitor do you pick? Suitor number one, suitor number two, or suitor numb-“ The voice and image of the game show host started warping as the television started spewing out loud static, causing Jason to cover his ears in pain. “Butch! Turn it down, son!” Butch, Jason’s son, started to rise from the ground only to be stopped in his tracks when the static cleared and showed a purple horse that nearly took up the whole screen. They didn’t have one of those newfangled color TV’s, either, so the sight was certainly an odd one. But what took Jason by surprise the most was the that the horse talked. “Uh, hello? Braeburn? Can you hear me?”    The horse seemed to be frantic, the animals figure darting around the screen. The image focused more, allowing for Jason to see that the horse was not just so, but was in fact a unicorn! “Wow, dad! Look at that!” Butch leaned in closer, entranced by the talking animal. The image panned out, revealing another horse, this time in a more familiar form without a horn. “I know we done made up and all, Twilight, but what in tarnation were ya’ thinkin’!?” Jason got up from his seat and rushed to the phone, dialing a secure line to the Pentagon. The phone only rang once and a click let it slip that the phone had connected to its intended target. “Why do the birds fly south?” Said a voice on the other side. “Because ducks don’t have parkas.” Jason replied cooly. “Jason, what’s the issue?” Victor Asimov, despite his name, was one of the highest ranking government officials in the US Military. He was an older man, having marched into Berlin with Eisenhower during World War 2 and serving as his platoon leader over on the 38th Parallel. They were good friends, and he also happened to have his eyes and ears everywhere on the globe during his station in the Pentagon’s Waroom, allowing for Jason to call him up whenever he needed more information than he already had. “Vic, are you seeing this?” “I’m assuming your talking about the purple horse?” “Yeah. What do you make of it?” The television started to produce static again, but the image of the two horses stayed. The purple one, Twilight he assumed, seemed to be under a lot of duress. “Applejack, I can’t keep this spell up with you nagging me like that.” The Unicorns eyes went wide. “Braeburn? Braeburn!” “Hold on, cousin! We’re comin’ for ya! Don’t you-” The TV went into another bout of static before eventually returning to the gameshow from earlier, during the credits portion. The moment didn’t last long, though, as it immediately turned into to the broadcast testing screen, showing that the broadcaster had been shut off. Victor let out a breath. “I hate to say it, but I think it’s real.” Jason shook is head in disbelief. Victor was not the kind of person to make such assumptions lightly. “Wait, you mean to say those… those… things, were real!?” “Yes. The frequency isn’t within anything we knew even existed, and reports of the broadcast are coming from all the way in Japan. Chances are we’re dealing with something beyond our current understanding of science, and I doubt the Russians have gotten this far ahead in such a short time.” “Holy Hell, Vic.” “Holy Hell indeed, Jason.” Jason massaged his temple, a headache starting to form. “What do you thinks going to happen?” “I don’t know yet. The Presidents in lockdown, due to the unknown frequency, and our allies in Europe are just as confused as we are. I’ll update you if anything comes up.” “Thanks, Vic.” “No problem. Stay safe out there.” “I will. You too.” Jason hung up the phone and walked back to turn off the TV, his wife having led the children back to their room, but the ringing of the telephone drew him back to the kitchen where it rested. He picked the device back up, holding it casually, as though a friend were calling to ask him about the television broadcast. “Agent Higgins, it’s nice to speak with you. I don’t have much time though, so formalities will have to wait.” Jason immediately straightened his form and cleared his throat. He, and millions of Americans, knew that voice all to well. “President Kennedy! What do you need, sir?” Jason nervously barked. “Calm yourself, Agent Higgins. I need you in tip-top shape for your new assignment.” “Sir?” “Outside of your home should be a black sedan. Get in. It will take you to where I am. I can say no more, Agent Higgins, I’m sure you understand. Godspeed, son.” With that, the President hung up the phone and Jason found himself quite relieved. He was worried the President might have been in danger, but if he was making phone calls, then he must have not been in to much danger. Jason, however, couldn’t shake the feeling that his new assignment had something to do with the little TV incident. “Honey, get my suitcase ready, I’m going out on business!” Jason called out to the other room, for he had to get his finest suit and tie on. The President was not to be disappointed. — “So, you two do this very often?” Jason had been trying in vain to break the glacier sized ice wall that the Secret Service agents had put up. These guys were true professionals, not even offering a greeting, just saying “Get in” when he approached the vehicle they were now riding in. It was cramped, there being little room between the two Secret Service agents, him, and the heavy armor that lined the car. It wasn’t completely devoid of comfort, though, there being a little bar in the center console. Jason took out some red wine, offering a drink to each agent, both of which were denied with a grunt. Lighten up a little, would you? The driver of the vehicle lowered the small window that separated the cockpit from the passenger area to be able to talk to the three sitting in the back. “Were approaching the compound, gentlemen.” The agent to Jason’s right moved up his hand to his mouth and spoke. “Agent W to Agent C, We are approaching the compound, over.” The agent to his left pulled his hand to his mouth and responded. “Agent C to Agent W, Copy, over.” Not once through the whole interaction did the agents ever look at each other, despite not even being more than three feet apart. “You two always this by-the-book?” Once again, his question was ignored. Thankfully the lack of interaction was to be soon ended. The car lurched to a stop, a soldier in his green combat fatigues pulling the right side door open and giving a salute. The three men filed out of the vehicle and returned the salute before continuing on their journey. The compound wasn’t much on the outside, a single checkpoint at the front gate guarding a cement structure built into the side of a hill. This was probably intentional, as to not draw to much attention from passers-by and therefore possible Soviet spies. The great steel doors lurched open and the three men walked inside. Another soldier approached, and the Service agents flashed their IDs, allowing them to pass. Jason fumbled out his own ID, and the soldier waved him off. The building was brimming with life, men and women constantly moving between different parts of the complex like bees working diligently in a hive. Agent C motioned for Jason to follow him as Agent W walked off to another portion of the structure. “Follow me, Agent Higgins.” They walked down a long, dimly lit corridor that seemed to be cut off from the buzz of the entrance. It was noticeably colder in this part, and it certainly didn’t make Jason very comfortable. Coming to the end, Agent C pushed the door open, him motioning for Jason to enter. He did so, and was immediately stunned by the utter complexity of the room. Monitors lined the walls of the oblong room, playing security footage as well as 24/7 news broadcasts from around the world. France, Australia, Britain even. It was quite the sight, and in the middle of it all sat the President and a few of his most trusted cabinet members. The only one Jason recognized, however, was Robert McNamara, the Secretary of Defense. The President looked over with a warm smile. “Ah, Agent Higgins. Please, sit down.” He pointed towards an empty seat with an open palm. He moved towards the seat, trying to find something interesting to look at, as to not offend the men all staring at him. He felt like a schoolchild who showed up late to class. He took his seat with a bead of sweat forming on his brow. The President sat up in his seat, readjusting his suit as he did. “Gentlemen, today might be the single most important day in this country’s, nay, in all of humanity’s existence, for today we have made contact with another intelligent species. They call themselves ‘ponies’, but they do not fully resemble that sort of animal. They speak our language, surprisingly enough, and they are capable of magic. I know not of what their intentions may be, but the fact of the matter remains: They are not our friends, nor our enemies. Therefore, information is vital.” The President sat back in his chair and looked at the Secretary. “McNamara, give the rest of these fine gentlemen the report you showed me earlier.” The Secretary of Defense cleared his throat and pulled out a stack of freshly printed papers. “The subject was picked up in Manhattan three days ago by the FBI. He identifies himself as ‘Braeburn’, and stands about 3 and a half feet tall, wears a cowboys’ hat affectionately called ‘Lil Apple’, and speaks in a southern US accent. Initial interrogations revealed he came from a place called ‘Equestria’ ruled by a diarchy of two princesses, Celestia and Luna. He himself claims to have little contact with his leaders, and instead talked for hours about how much trouble he was going to be in when he got back home, citing that ‘…it’s harvest season right now’.” The group laughed a bit at that. “We have also deducted that the ‘pony’ found his way here through magical means. The recount of the event claimed a one Twilight Sparkle asked Braeburn if he could be the subject of a new spell she was testing, to which he obliged. He claims the next thing he knew, he was standing in the middle of what we assume was Time Square, incapacitated by the sights and sounds of the locale.” McNamara shuffled the papers and set them back down on the table. He then sat forward, looking pleadingly at President Kennedy. “Mr. President, if I may say so, I don’t think these ‘Ponies’ aren’t here for a nice cup of tea. This has the Russian’s claws all over it.” The President nodded, turning towards Jason, who’s eyes had glazed over in thought. “Your thoughts, Agent Higgins?” Jason sat up. “Well, uh, we certainly need to establish some sort of contact with these princesses, or somebody who can have contact with them. As you might know, during the broadcast earlier, two ponies, Twilight and Applejack were attempting to contact this Braeburn. Maybe we could use this as a bridge for communications?” President Kennedy nodded, deep in thought. “Very good, Agent Higgins.” He looked at a news broadcast on the wall, this one being from London. It had an image of the purple unicorn next to a very disheveled-looking man wide-eyed in doubt. The Secretary, however, seemed to be disturbed at the thought. “Agent Higgins, I don’t think your seeing through the farce. This is obviously another scare tactic by the Russians. This is just another Sputnik.” Jason shook his head. “I’ll have you know I have on good authority that the Russians aren’t the ones behind this incident, Secretary McNamara.” The Secretary got up on his feet, staring daggers into Jason. “And what authority is that?” Jason responded by doing the same. He wasn’t about to be dogged down. “General Victor Asimov, Secretary McNamara.” The Secretary rolled his eyes. “Oh, the Four Star Russian. Whats next, we trust our coffee to the Cubans? Let’s see how long we live with that!” “With all due respect, Secretary McNamara, Victor is an American, not a Russian. He is one of the most trustworthy individuals I have ever had the pleasure of meeting, and I think you would do well to respect his name.” Jason and McNamara where but a few inches apart at this point. The President joined the standing pair. “Thats enough, gentlemen. We must be strong in these times of uncertainty.” The President pulled his chair out and walked a few feet away, re-buttoning his suit jacket as he did. “Follow me, gentlemen. I have something to show you.”Jason and McNamara glared at each other in contempt, but followed the President quickly, leaving the others behind to do their business. They were led down another corridor, this one being a lot shorter than the previous, and into a portion of the building labeled B-7: HOLDING. The President opened a door and walked inside. Jason and McNamara seemed to have a non-verbal pissing battle as to who should enter first, Jason finally succumbing after half a minute of the waving of hands and pointing into the room. The room was one typically used for questioning potential spies and the odd corrupt official, but this time it held a more special captive, the pony named Braeburn. The President turned around to address his two followers. “Agent Higgins, would you mind joining me in the interrogations room?” “Of course not, Mr. President.” McNamara stepped forward, genuine concern plastered on his face. “Mr. President, you can’t seriously be considering going in there with that thing! It could be dangerous, for all we-“ The President held up his hand, silencing the Secretary in his line of thinking. “I wasn’t asking for permission, Robert.” McNamara cleared his throat and slinked back to a controls console. “Yes, Mr. President.” The President made a full 180 and entered the small room with the pony, Jason following shortly after. The ponies huge eyes seemed to light up at the arrival of new guests. “Howdy there, sirs! Names Braeburn! Nice t’ meet ya.” The pony held out his hoof, as if he were asking for a handshake. The President obliged, and after he was done, so did Jason. “Hello, Mr. Braeburn. I am President John Fitzgerald Kennedy of the United States of America, and this is my cohort, Special Agent Jason Higgins, Chief Officer of Foreign Diplomacy. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The two men took their seats across the table from the pony. “Gosh, the pleasures all mine President John Fitzgerald Kennedy of the United States of America. My, what a long name you have!” The President chuckled. “Please, just call me John, and if my friend here doesn’t mind, Jason.” “I don’t mind at all, sir.” The pony beamed from ear to ear. “Well, John and Jason, what brings ya’ here?” Jason spoke up first, the President listening in closely. “Mr. Braeburn, we are interested in making contact with your leaders in Equestria, is there any way you could facilitate such a meeting?” “Well, uh, not me, but ma’ cousin Applejack’s friend seems t’ see the Princess more often than most ponies. Maybe she could help you? A’ course, you would hafta find a way to get t’ her, and from what I’m gettin’, none a’ y’all got a clue where Equestria is.” Jason turned to the President, him giving an inquisitive look to Jason. “Mr. Braeburn, if we showed you a map, could you point out where Equestria was?” The pony seemed to laugh at that. “Well, sure, but it would be pretty difficult not to!” Jason nodded. “Secretary McNamara, could you get us a world map by any chance?” The speakers of the room clicked to life. “I’m not your errand boy, Agent Higgins.” The President turned to look back towards the one-way glass. “Then do it for me, Secretary.” “Yes, Mr. President.” The President turned back to the pony, smiling warmly for a moment before getting serious. “Mr. Braeburn, as the leader of this fine nation I have to ask you this: Do you, or anybody you know have any connections to the Russians?” The pony’s face scrunched up. “Well, I don’t rightly know what you mean by ‘rush-ins’. While it is harvest season, most ponies are rushin’ out, rather than in, on the count to sell their apples before the others, sir.” The President just nodded, adding a sense of relief to Jason. He was worried the leader would automatically assume the worst of the creature, but the honest answer it gave was enough to lighten the room up a bit, as well as his demeanor. A click of the intercom interrupted Jasons observations, however. “Mr. President, I have the map.” “Send it in, Secretary.” The President replied calmly. The entrance to the room creaked open and McNamara handed the map to the Commander in Chief, seemingly trying to keep as far away from Braeburn as possible. “Thank you, Secretary.” McNamara, instead of talking, just turned back around and ducked back through the door as quickly as he could. President Kennedy handed the map to Jason, who in turn lay the paper out on the table flat. Braeburn reached out his hoof quickly, only to retract it as if he expected he knew where to point only to not see what he was expecting. “I, uh, this isn’t no map I ever seen. I don’t know where Equestria is, let alone Appleloosa.” The pony pointed to the center of the map, in the gulf that sat below Western Africa. “If this map had Equestria on it, tis’ where it’d be, but t’ain’t nothin’ there.” The President leaned forward. “Mr. Braeburn, tell us more about how you got here. Maybe that could help us find your way back home?” The pony looked up at the ceiling and massaged his forehead. The oddly human action left Jason feeling a bit off-put, but he dispelled the feeling as soon as the pony began to speak. “Well, I was gettin’ ready t’ buck some tree’s on the ol’ apple orchard when Twilight Sparkle came up and said she needed me to help with one o’ her experiments.” The pony pulled a hoof to his chest and grinned widely. “Said I t’was ‘The optimal test subject’, whatever that means. Anywho, we go on and we’re in tha barn and she’s fidgetin’ wit a mess o’ gadgets and doohickeys while I’m standin’ on this weird metal platform.” The stallion got a stern look on his face, and gave an angry huff and held out his hooves as if pushing away the assumptions of the other non-existent ponies. “Now, I don’t normally mess with all that fancy magic nonsense, but I trust Applejack, and she trusts Twilight, so I was ready an’ willin’ t’ do what she needed me to, but after this, I don’t think I’ll be asistin’ her wit’ no more of her ‘experiments’.” “What happened then, Mr. Braeburn?” Jason inquired further. The pony got real solemn then. “Well, she told me t’ stand real still and don’t move a muscle. I tried, I really did, but the dust been kickin’ up real bad lately and when she flipped a switch, I sneezed real hard an’ next thing I knew, I was standin’ in the middle o’ Manehattan, ‘cept this wasn’t my Manehatten. Had a bunch o’ your folk walkin’ around oglin’ and jeerin’ at me like I was some sorta clown. It was demeanin’, really.” The pony looked down at the floor, his failure obviously weighing heavily on his conscious, the people of New York not exactly being a help to the situation. The President reached out his hand and patted the creatures shoulder. Jason could have sworn he heard a scream come from behind the glass, which made him smirk. “I’m really sorry that was the first impressions of our people, Mr. Braeburn, I hope our hospitality here has been satisfactory in an effort to make up for the experience.” Braeburn’s eyes lit up again, a smile coming to his face. “Oh yes, John. There was this real nice lady, think her name was Margret, came in an’ gave me some of her salad. Said I might have been a bit hungry, which I sure was! It was real good, sir. Wish I had more, no doubt.” The President smiled back. “Thats good to hear, friend. I’ll make sure Margret is commended for her efforts. Now, if you’ll excuse me and Jason here, we have some business to attend to.” “No problem, John, I’ll probably be here waitin’. Have a great day, y’all.” “You too.” Jason and the President walked out of the room with a wave, closing the door gently behind them. The President walked to the second door which led back to the hallway and turned around. “Gentlemen, if you will excuse me, I have to consort with a few delegates and get some second opinions. I’ll be around. McNamara, take Agent Higgins here to the staff room at B-4.” The President nodded goodbye. “Good day, gentlemen.” As soon as the President shut the door, McNamara turned to Jason and gave him a disgusted look. “You shouldn’t have let him touch the thing.” Jason fanned his arms out in a shrug. “Wasn’t my call. The ‘things’ name is Braeburn, by the way.” McNamara turned and motioned for Jason to follow him. He obviously didn’t want to do this, but orders were orders, and ones from the President could not simply be ignored. He led Jason to the staff room labeled B-4 and closed the door behind him with a huff. It was dimly lit, sparsely furnished, and had a fresh batch of coffee. Jason laughed a bit to himself. Well, McNamara, it’s very possible the Cubans could make great coffee if you gave them a chance… — Jason had been twirling his thumbs waiting for somebody to return to the room when a knock came at the door. He swiveled himself around to see the President walk in with… Braeburn!? “Agent Higgins, it’s nice to see you.” “O-of course, President Kennedy, always a pleasure!” Jason stammered in response. He still wasn’t used to talking to the President, despite working directly with him for well over a year up to this point. The President walked over to where Jason was sitting, pulling a chair out so his companion could sit with them. “Agent Higgins, I’m sure you have been wondering what the assignment I called you about earlier entailed, no?” “I- yes Mr. President, I have been wondering.” “Well , and I don’t ask this lightly, I need you to take care of Braeburn here.” The President put a hand on Braeburn’s shoulder. “Treat him as you would your own kin, Agent Higgins.” Jason felt like a jolt of electricity had ran through his body. He had certainly not expected this, and not from the President himself either. He had taken care of family members before, but that was for maybe a couple of weeks at the most, and typically during the holiday season. What the President asked for was unprecedented, to say the least. “Uh, Mr. President, may I ask why me?” “Your apprehension is understandable, Mr. Higgins.” The use of his civilian name in a talk about work caught Jason a bit of guard. “But as my Chief Foreign Diplomacy Officer, you are responsible for all matters regarding other nations and their people even if those people are…” The President paused, looking for the right word. “…of otherworldly origins.” “Of course, Mr. President.” “Jason, what you are doing is essential to our political relations to this new world of Equestria, please, do not take this as some babysitting mission. I assure you, this is an assignment of utmost importance.” Jason let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. “If so, then I will do so whole-heartedly.” “Very good.” He turned to the miniature horse. “Alright, Braeburn. Under my command, Mr. Higgins here is sworn to provide living accommodations for you. He will take you to his house in Washington D.C. and there you will live until we can find a way to get you back to Equestria.” “Uh, alright John. How long do ya think it’ll be?” The President took a lengthy pause to think of a response. Jason could clearly see this whole ordeal was taking a toll on the young president. After awhile, he exhaled his response with stress. “I know not the trials and tribulations that await you in your future, friend, but rest assured, for I can say with certainty that I will try my hardest to assure your safe return to Equestria, you have my word.” Braeburn seemed quite upset at that answer, but he understood and trusted the Presidents judgement, even if it would bring him inevitable grief. He sat back in his chair and nodded. “So, Jason, where do ya’ live?” He asked, attempting to hide his sorrow unsuccessfully. Jason tried his hardest to brighten up the pony. “Oh, you’ll love it. Great view of the Capitol Building, and the missus makes the absolute best green bean casserole.” — The ride home had been even more cramped than before, on the count that there was now a pony subtracting from the already small space. The sight even sparked an ‘Oh, wow.’ out of Agent C before he returned to his stoic personality from before. Even so, Jason still tried to talk to them nonetheless, a new companion joining in on the effort. “Braeburn, this is Agent W,” Jason pointed to his right using his left hand because it was to cramped to articulate his right hand. “And this is Agent C.” Braeburn popped his hoof out in an attempt to get a shake, but the ever-steely figures didn’t even blink under their aviators. Jason leaned over to Braeburn, who was sitting to his left. “They don’t talk much.” Braeburn giggled. “I couldn’t tell.” They laughed together, taking the awkwardness of the night away with it. Jason hadn’t had a genuinely casual conversation with someone from work in years, save the occasional call with Victor, and even then it usually turned into something less than appropriate for casual conversation, classified information and the like. Jason had the mind to understand that their relationship was about to change, giving that Braeburn was soon to live with his family. And it was certainly going to be an issue convincing his wife to let the stallion stay. — *SCREECH* “Get it out! get it out of here NOW!!!” Jason’s wife was currently swinging a broom in Braeburn’s direction, attempting to shoo him out the door. “Jason, who is this crazy lady!?” Braeburn was shielding his face from the onslaught while Jason tried to shield him from his wife. Introductions were not going well. “Crazy!? I’ll show you… wait a minute. DID IT JUST TALK!?” *LOUDER SCREECH* Jason’s wife fainted, Jason himself coming to the rescue and scooping her up before she fell on the floor. The broom was not spared from this cruel fate, however. “Braeburn, meet Joanna, my wife, my love, my life. Please forgive her for her actions, she isn’t used to seeing talking horses walking around her home.” Jason hoisted up the unconscious woman and gently carried her to his bedroom, Braeburn following him. “Well, I guess that makes sense enough.” Jason pulled a blanket over Joanna, giving her a gentle kiss. “You’ll love her, I swear. Like I said, she makes a mean casserole. Have you had casserole before, Braeburn?” Braeburn tipped up his hat and gave his forehead a good scratch. “Can’t say I have, Jason. Whats in it?” “Well, for starters, green beans, cheese-“ Braeburn cut Jason off. “Cheese? Whats cheese?” Braeburn said the word like he was talking in a different language, and for what it’s worth, it technically was a different language, but not by much. The confusion did reveal something that Jason neglected to notice before though. The fact that ponies don’t eat cheese, or meat, or really much of anything that his family normally ate on a daily basis. “Uh, it’s like… uh, it’s something we humans eat. Not in your diet, though.” Instead of latching onto the cheese, Braeburn instead thought about the name of Jason’s species. “Hoo-mans. What an odd word. We don’t have nothin’ like y’all in Equestria, though I’ve heard there are these cat folk down south who sorta walk like like y’all.” “Cat people? Well, your going to have to tell me about that sometime.” Jason got up from his bed and walked out the door into the main room of the house. “Come on, let me show you around the apartment.” He did so, keeping out of sight the things that might frighten the pony, like the inside of the fridge. He made a mental note to make sure that they didn’t eat anything that a pony wouldn’t eat, as to not offend the new addition to the family. As Jason came through the living room, Braeburn’s attention was taken hold of by the stunning nighttime view of Washington D.C. at night. The lights that illuminated the Capitol Building reflected off of the great pond that preceded it, leading an enchanting trail down to the Washington Monument, its lights proving to have the same heavenly glow of its symbolic partner, all encased by the crystal clear night sky above. “Wow.” Jason walked up next to the mesmerized equine. “Yeah, ‘wow’ indeed. Count it among my blessings that I got so lucky as to live here.” Braeburn pulled that hat off his head and put it up to his chest. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen nothin so stunnin’, Jason. Heck, even Canterlot ain’t got nothin’ on this.” “Really? You ponies must have a real drab place to live.” Jason felt a bit like an ass for saying so. “No offense.” “Er, none taken, I suppose.” Jason mentally berated himself for his uncouth words. Wow, Jason! You are really a stunningly fine example for this displaced, and possibly quite afraid person just trying to be kind! The two sat in silence for a bit, just looking at the Monument basking in the starlight until Braeburn cleared his throat. “So, uh, where am I gonna sleep?” Jason scratched his head. “Huh, guess it is pretty late. Well, I guess I could pull a few blankets out of the closet and you could sleep on the couch until I find something else to accommodate you. You fine with that?” Braeburn smiled. “That would be wondrous.” Jason pulled the necessary bedding out of the closet and handed them over to the waiting pony. He took the items and lay them out on the sofa appropriately, and curled up into a little ball. “Goodnight, Jason.” “Goodnight, Braeburn.” Jason retired to his bed, trying his hardest to not disturb the sleeping woman resting there unsuccessfully. “Oh, honey, I had the worst dream. Some weird looking horse in a vest and cowboy’s hat started stomping around our house, and it talked to me. Could you even imagine such a thing? A talking horse?” Jason chuckled. “Well, before today I might have said ‘Most definitely not’, but now, I’m sure it is possible.” Joanna seemed to roll over to go back to sleep, but the realization of what Jason had just said caught up before Mr. Sandman found her. Turning back over as quick as a cheetah runs, she stared at him wide-eyed in the darkness. “What do you mean your ‘sure it is possible’?!” Jason just laughed in response, prompting a proper reaction out of Joanna. *LOUDEST POSSIBLE SCREECHING*