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- RainBRO Dash
- Dash found herself awake by degrees. Gin had a funny way of blending with scotch and making some terrible admixture under her tongue. She'd need a good drink of water before taking "the piss."
- The slampiece to her left snored hard. Fuck it, 10am, this bitch gotta go. An experimental kick with one back leg did nothing.
- She smiled despite herself, gamboling on uncertain hooves. She must have gotten more than her fill of "The Dash."
- Dash ambled to the broad mirror of the master suite. Emphasis on Master. No bags under the eyes, but that messy propped collar had to go.
- She tossed it to the bin in one fell swoop. Girl gotta have her standards.
- She caught a blue mare 'mirin' in the mirror as she ambled that sweet ass into the shower.
- Did it matter it was Dash? Hell no. She owed the world some self-respect. Halfway through twisting the knob to hot, she reached for the conditioner. Feathers needed a bit more than 'self-respect' to really dance in the morning Sun.
- She caught a good mouthfuls from the shower. Fucking god-tier soft water this far up. Got the hookup from her good water filtration friend down at the Weather Factory. She was certain she could piss clean into the cloud-stuff and it'd be fresh as a morning daisy for all those lesser (but perhaps bangable) Earth-pone down below.
- In fact she did. A visible shudder passed through her. Best part of the day was leaving all those poisons behind.
- It made room for solid day-drinking after. Fuck it, it was a three-day weekend. Some faggot horse got himself killed three hundred years ago in Equestria's name and she was gonna toke a bowl and cruise down to Ponyville for some barbecue and hook up with the clique.
- She made sure to get between the fingerlings in her wings. That shine would be TOO hype.
- Over the shower she head signs of life, and some mare's voice, 'I- I'm gonna go. Thanks for last night!" A door.
- "The Dash" barked "Ai'ight, I got yer number." She didn't.
- Fuck it. Bitch came six times under her hoof and no reciprocating. Dash didn't even blink as the front door clicked shut and she took a towel to wet fur. A blast of AXE and a new coral-pink polo and she was good for the day. 11am - just in time to show up fashionably late for the barbecue.
- She made no effort to pump hard down to Ponyville. She let the glide down ruffle her mane just right the way she liked it. Still a little muzzy reaching town square, the Aviators at least kept the noon sun out her eyes.
- She landed down right next to Pinkie. Fucking brohoof, a little elbow action. Not a word said as Ponk-bro passed a thermos of Cracka-punch. Good as shit rum and fruit pourin' down.
- The barbecue was hot, fries crisp, bitches 'mirin. A Weather Team scout came up asking about the work schedule, she shrugged it off. Her weekend, her time. Left her stone cold.
- She turned sight to a fluttering yellow frame to the right. The Cracka was strong. No Friend Zone today, no sir.
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