Sky's the Limit Ch. 3 -Sky On our Shoulders

"You will never be a part of the Weather Patrol team if I have any say in it."
>Rainbow Dash looked at your handiwork from the ground with a level of dissaproval that only an expert could provide.
>"I don't think I did that bad."  You cross your arms and look upwards.  The afternoon is spent exploring the more practical applications of your cloudwalker suit.  The most obvious use was assisting the local weather team in keeping the immediate skies of p0nyville clear.
>Today cloud cover was very low, so you weren't able to make any great climbs up in the sky today, but you could try a few tricks with what little clouds floated over the small burg. Rainbow Dash offered to help, as she was most able to provide the pro-est of pro-tips.
"You've left cloud traces and little whispy-thingies everywhere.  And those boots of yours leave tracks.  It looks like you were trying to play a game of tic-tac-toe up there."
>She starts to chew on the inside of her mouth.
"The clouds you moved look gross.  I can see your grubby hand-print-things all over them. You didn't even push  'em off that far.  And you need to place them further down with the wind.  Like, half of them are going to just blow over the town again in twenty minutes.  And guess who gets to clean that up?"
>She raises a hoof.
"This chick."
>You put your hands up to your face. "Oh no, Rain is gonna have to do her job today."
>The columbia blue pegasus laughs and punches you in the waist.
"Yeah I am, and it's all your fault.  So let me grill you s'more for it.  Uh, what is that, is...did you spell your name with the clouds?"
>"I tried to."  And sure enough up in the sky, seperated a little ways from the other poorly positioned clouds was a puffy arrangement of white that spelt out "Anon!"  But to be perfectly honest, it looked more like "Amooml"
>She is completely silent.  She opens her mouth to speak.  She closes it again.  Opens.  Close.
>Blink.  Blink.  Her magenta eyes stare at the collection of clouds that almost very closely looks like your name.
"I've never tried to do that.  Never even thought of it.  I feel like I shoulda."
>She looks at you.
"Is there a word for that?"
>You shrug.  "There should be.  Maybe we could ask Twilight."  From her face you could tell that idea went right into her brain's trash bin.
"Nah.  If there's a word for it, she'll tell us forty different words that mean almost the same thing, and if there's not a word, then she won't leave us alone until she comes up with a new one and gets a letter of recognition from Princess Celestia or whatever."
>You grimace.  "She'll do that."
"She'll take up two afternoons doing that.  Ugh, let's talk about somethin' else."
>You look up at the almost clear skies.  "Did I at least do a little bit good?"  She scans the air once more.
"You just need more practice.  Not everyone can be perfect right off the bat like yours truly.  You were actually pretty halfway not-terrible at holding them all together.  You won't be setting up thunderstorms anytime soon, though."
>"What about getting a job?"  She floats up to your face and goes 'ha!'
"Sorry, we need a list of prior work-related experience on your resume.  And all I see you do is sit around all day.  No layarounders on this team."
>"Would any glowing recommendations help?"  A devilish little grin smears across her face and her ears go flat against her head.  You immediately know where this is going and you would climb mountains in order for it to go anywhere else.
"Ohhh, just whoooo would give Anon here a glowing recommendation?  Twi?  Or maybe a certain somep0ny else?  Lemme think.  Somep0ny with a horn, and wings, and a big black crown?"
>"Okay, okay, you can stop now."  She presses both hooves against one side of her face and twirls through the air, like some corrupted cherub with a slight pack-a-day voice.  Her eyes go wide and start to glisten like glass marbles.
"My name is Princess Luna, and I think Anon is just the best thing ever.  He moves not only the clouds, but my heart as well."
>You cover your ears.  "There's an annyoing short-cake of a pegasus talking,  this has to break a noise ordinance, I know it."  She starts to flit around your head and yell.
"We are the princess and we find LOUD NOISES to be the greatest thing in the world, right after MAKING OUT with ANON'S FACE!"
>You and Luna have hung out more than few times since the morning after your race.  She would stop by either early in the morning or the evening, and usually never longer than an hour or so.
>You start to stomp and spin on the ground, "My name is Rainbow Dash, and the only thing more blown out of proportion than this is my ego!" She starts shaking her head and letting her tongue fly out.
"WE CAN'T HEAR YOU OVER ALL THE SPIT WE'RE SWAPPIN' AHHH-BLAH-BLUGH-BLUGH-BLA!"
>"I WILL GIVE YOU SO MUCH MONEY IF YOU STOP!"
>Ponies were staring.  Dash fell to the grass and rolled on her back, reveling in your embarassment.
"You are just too easy dude, lighten up."
>She sits on her side to catch her breath.
"Who cares if you and Luna go out behind the big tree at school and have face-eating contests?"
>You fall to your back and stare at the sky.  "We don't make out, swap spit, or try to eat each other's faces.  Okay, she just comes over, we drink coffee and talk, or go for a soar out of town.  That's it.  Nothing else."
"But you want to do something else?"
>"No."  She nods hard enough to send her mane flapping in the wind.
"You wanna do something else."
>"No, I don't, I just.  She just.  Okay, it's like this:  she's a princess."
"No way."
>"And she's busy. You know, putting the moon up, or taking care of stars of all things.  And if she's not doing that, then she's in Canterlot talking with, I dunno, ambassadors and hosting dinner parties.  Or ruling.  Or making proclamations that can be heard all the way from here."  Dash stands on her hind legs and addresses a large invisible audience.
"Let it be known that Anon is a total super-hunk and I can't wait to-"
>"SO SHE JUST.  LIKES.  Knowing..." You wait for Dash to say something smart.  She's smiling innocently.  "that there's someone she can just be around with and not act so formal."  Although she still maintained a measure of elegance and dignitiy at all times.  It was just encoded into her very genes.  No helping it.  Although it manifested in funny ways at times.
>"And that...person just happens to be me."  That didn't come out right.
"I feel so sorry for you."
>"I am so glad to be friends with someone who understands."
"So.  When is she gonna come over to hang out and act not-so-formal with you?"
>You turn a little red.  "Tomorrow night."  She cocks an eyebrow.
>"I'm making dinner."
>She cocks her other eyebrow.
"What are you making?"
>"Fettucini alfredo and a salad."  You hands crawl up your face to hide it from the world. "I'm going to bake my own bread," you muffle "Garlic."  You don't even look at Dash.  But you can feel her gaze burn on your ears.  You hope your body will be merciful and cause you to go deaf for the rest of your life so that you don't have to hear what she says.
"Dude."
>You swipe at her, hoping she'll flap away like a pidgeon.
"How can you be so dillusional with yourself?"
>"It's just dinner.  Not a big deal."
"Anon, I swear, I'm going to hold an annual stupid-contest just so that I can give you a trophy every year."
>"As long as you get second place."
>This was not going your way at all.  The only choice you had was to ride it out.  The bolts of your nerves were already rattling in their sockets.  It wasn't so much the idea of having dinner with Luna that made you nervous.  You already had breakfast with her and that went pretty well, all things considered.
>The simple truth was that you did enjoy spending time with her.  There was a window of time in the early morning and late evenings where your ears would pick up every little noise around your home, and wonder if that meant she was about to knock on your door or just landed in your backyard.   You've kept your house noticably cleaner in the past few weeks.
>And the excitement from the mere prospect of a visit from her bothered you more than you'd admit.  It bothered you that you were bothered.
>Maybe you were just trying to delude yourself.  You slapped your hand against the grass in annoyed helplessness.  Dash was poking at a flower on the ground.
"I'm just saying, you've never made me garlic bread."
>"Because your breath is bad enough."  She kicked some dirt on your face.  Rainbow stood on her legs and stretched her wings out, chuckling.
"Listen, smooth-moves,  just don't bung it up.  You don't want to know the things I'll say if all this goes flop-sided."
>She starts to half-skip, half glide out of the pasture you were sitting in.
"Just brush your teeth before the after-dinner tongue-wrestling contest."
>You want to bury yourself in the field and never come out.  But you can't.  There are things you have to buy.  Noodles.  Alfredo sauce, flour, garlic, wine, and maybe something for desert.  And probably a cook book.  That would help.
>Why did you agree to do this again?  What part of your mind went absolutely mad, corrupted your mouth and caused you to open it and say "You can come over here for dinner!"
-----
>She remained still for a few moments after your little suggestion.
>You immediately realized what you just said.  You regretted it.  The huge irises of her eyes were taken back in surprise.  They searched the room as though expecting to find an answer floating there.  She paused for a moment before looking at you again, then at the floor, then at you one more time and finally making a small, breathy laugh and saying,
"That would be most gracious.  I accept."
>Did she just say that?  She's on your couch right now, lying on her side.  The two of you were talking about her room.  The workp0nies of the castle were very quick on fixing it up, but it stirred some unbidden to desire to renovate nearly every other room in the castle.  The dining hall was their next project.
>She said she would have to take her meals in her room for the next few nights, or go out into the city to eat.  Of course the sight of Luna dining out of the castle would lead to a lot of noise and her being the center of many p0ny's attention.  She loved being the center of attention, of course, but not quite so intensely, and most certainly not every night when she was trying to eat.
>"Um.  You do?"  She does?
"Of course!"
>Everyone else heard that, right?
>Yeah boss, we heard it.
>Luna stepped off the couched and walked towards the window.
"Do not be surprised.  Dining alone is a dull affair, and I would much enjoy one's company.  And who is to say, with you acting as host, you will be required to be very nearly polite to me."
>"I'm not going to make any promises, your loudnessship."  Her face turned all sparkles and she trounced across your living room, winding her way to the recliner that you were stretched across.
"Even so.  I can't wait to see what your silver plates look like.  Drinking out of the same golden caraffe  day after day becomes so dull.  A change in livery would be exciting."
>"Ca...raffe?"  The look on your face was blank enough to paint the Mona Lisa on.  You wanted to say that was some kind of animal, but opening your mouth any further would very likely lead to ruin.  Luna laughed into her hooves.
"It's a sort of pitcher.  Some have more curves than others."
>"I drink out of a cup."
"I jest."
>"Luna, I will serve you with the finest forks and spoons in this household.  I'll even use the double-quilted napkins if you insist."
"Do not over exert yourself on my account, human."
>"I'll exert myself over any account I want."
"At your insistence."
>"This is going to be real nice.  Full-stop.  I'll break out the -plates-.  Normally I just set my food on fire and throw it to the ground and eat from there."  The princess finds she can draw the image in her head all too easily.
"I would not put such forwardness beyond you."
>You and her hammered out a few more details before she had to leave and attend to other matters.  You saw her float off into the sky before vanishing in her flashy way.  You calmly strolled back into your home, closed the door, walked to the far side of the wall and bashed your head against it very hard.
>What could you have possibly been thinking?
------------------
>You have no idea what you were thinking.  She damn near killed you, then you slept in her bed, and now you're making her dinner.
>The thoughts in your head ran that sentence again.  You nodded in grim realization.
>Rainbow Dash could not be faulted for thinking you and Luna were 'involved.'
>But the idea was still silly. Preposterous.  Bizarre.  Blasphemous.  Wrong.  Wrong.
>You need to busy yourself with something.  If the sky wasn't so clear you'd be skiing up in the air this very moment.  But that would just be avoiding the issue.  No, at any rate you needed to prepare.  You had things to do.  Food to buy.  Plates to set.  You needed to acquire new plates....and maybe a tablecloth...tableclothes?
>How many tableclothes was proper for dinner?  Why did you sign up for this, you don't know anything!  The last time you made something for a girl was a batch of cookies, and you burnt those to a crisp.
>No.  Stop putting yourself down, it's not going to help you prepare for tomorrow night.  You're smarter than this.  Stop letting Rainbow's wheedling eat at you, it's making you act weird.  It's just dinner.  With Luna.   Yup.  That's all it is.
>You breathe.  Okay, just take this in baby steps.  First off, get home, gather some bits, make a list, and then head for the market place.
>The plan was about the most rawly logical thing you're going to come up with today, so you immediately set out to follow it.
>A short while later you are loosed upon the market, an unstoppable whirlind of purpose and determination.  You see jars of alfredo, you buy them!
>You see a p0ny working a stand, selling all kinds of spices, dried vegetables, and seasoning herbs.  You pounce his stand and point right at his muzzle. "You!  How much for six cloves of garlic?"
"A Hay-bit for each.  Three bits total."
>His terms are acceptable.  You slam the money on the counter.  The sign over his stand shakes under the force of your transacting skills.  He puts them in a small paper bag and wraps them up for your convenience.  He thanks you politely for your patronage, and hopes that you'll come again.
>You repeat the process.  You buy a bag of flour, fresh butter, two jars of alfredo sauce, a pack of fettucini, cooking oil, two bottles of red marescoto, a pepper grinder, and even pepper for the grinder.
>Even more things are bought.  More bags filled with goods amass in your arms, but that doesn't slow you in the slightest.
>You are the unstoppable force.
>Luna is going to have an amazing time.  You will go through hell itself to ensure it.
>Your noble quest to purchase the materials and ingredients to make an incredibly enjoyable dinner goes without a single flaw.
>After a few hours of intense shopping and haggling, there is only one thing left to acquire.
>The cookbook.
>Thankfully you don't actually have to spend money to get that one.
>But unthankfully you have to go to the library for it.
>Twilight's library, to be specific.  Because she lives there.  And she always asks questions about the books everyone checks out.  It's nice that she takes a healthy interest in the town's reading habits, but you did not want to explain the purpose of your visit for the day.
>You know that if she asks you about what you plan to do with the book you will be compelled to tell her the whole truth and nothing but the truth.  After all the help and unparalleled insight that she's provided to you, you cannot turn away the simplest request, or fudge any sort of lie that the unicorn may ask.
>That and her stare held this unnervingly bright and cheerfully inquisitive gaze that pierced and obliterated any sort of resistance to her questions you may have.  Her purple eyes were cursed, you were certain.
>You stand before the doors of the library.  You had to bend a little bit to enter them, but now they seemed dozens of stories tall.   And even then, the rest of the building, a fascinating mixture of designed architecture and a living breathing tree, seem immediately imposing, reaching to the sun and beyond.  Like some wizards dark, verdant tower.  You shuffle around the bags in your hands and knock trepidly.
>Why you have to knock at a public institution is still beyond you.
>The door hums and glows a soft purple.  They open slowly.  You step in slowly.  You set your bags down slowly.
>The interior is lined with books against all walls, from floor to ceiling.  Each one placed with intense care, and under the strictest of classifications and categories.  You step towards the non-fiction side of the library, keenly aware of the lack of the building's chief resident.
>"Twilight?  It's Anon.  I'm looking for a book."
>She may be in the backroom, her personal study.  Well, you didn't exactly need her help to find a cookbook, just grab something that looked suitably Italian and you're set.  You can make this quick, just in and out.
>You hear the pattering of hooves and see Twilight's smiling head poke over the second-story railing.
"Anon!  How are you?"
>You wave.  "Great, great.  What are you up to today?"  She trots downstairs, her horn is glowing, and a thing line of purple tracer line trails behind her.  Several books follow her in a bobbing line like a herd of ducklings.
"I've got this sudden urge to find a word that means "doing something that you've never thought to do yourself despite how obvious it should be."  Craziest thing, huh?"
>You hold your tongue.  You love Twilight to death, but she can be scary sometimes.  "Does that happen often?"
"At least twice a week.  It's a lot of fun."
>The books float to a table where they arrange themselves neatly.
"So you need a book?  What kind?  History?  Geography?  Chemistry?  Philosophy?"
>"I need a cookbook, actually."  Her face brightens further and she nods.
"Chemistry then, right this way."
>She beckons you down several adjacent aisles.  She leans up on the hard oaken shelves and considers your options.
"What are you planning to cook?"
>"Bread and pasta.  Maybe something for desert."  A dozen books fly from their designated positions, dancing to the unheard tune that played inside the unicorn's head.
"We have 'Rolling Dough's Guide to Ten Thousand Pastries and Crusts," 'Buck Wheatley's Pan-A-Rama,' 'Emerald Linguini's Oodles of Noodles,' or if you're feeling adventerous there's even-"
>You put a hand on her shoulder. "I think those last two will be just fine."  She looks slightly disappointed that she can't read off through every cookbook in the library.  The rest of the guides quickly slam back into their place.
"Great!  Emerald is an amazing cook.  I hear he does live demonstrations down in Neigh Orleans."
>You don't ask if he yells out 'BAM!' whenever he adds a special ingredient, because there is a one-hundred percent chance that he does.  "I'll have to visit there one day.  Welp, I think that should do it for now."
"Let's get you checked out then."
>She leads you to her counter where she kept all of the records of books that were checked out and the exact hour and microsecond of when they should be checked back in.  She looks at you with a barely detectable smirk.
"So, cutting it a little close to learn how to cook for the princess, don't you think?"
>You freeze.  "Rainbow told you, didn't she?"
"Anon, you need to learn something:  Rainbow Dash is physically incapable of keeping her mouth closed."
>That mare.  You were going to get her for this.
"But I actually heard it from Princess Celestia in one of her correspondance letters."
>Celestia too?  Was there anyone on this planet who could keep their muzzle out of your business?  You suddenly feel very drained.  Your fingers rub at your eyes.  That didn't make you feel better at all.  The thought of being the excited subject of Equestria's two monarchs flooded you with unease.  Twilight rolls her eyes in amusement as she pulls out her ledger.  "Everyone in the kingdom knows about this, don't they?"
"I wouldn't think so.  But they -are- sisters, Anon.  They'll talk about anything.  Don't you have any siblings?"
>You bite your lip reflexively.  Arms quiver a little bit at your side.  "I...did.."  Her hooves clasp over her mouth as she realizes what she asked.  She whispers pleadingly.
"Oh.  Anon, I'm so, so sorry.  I didn't, I forgot that-"
>You wave your hand dismissively.  "It's okay, i know what you meant.  What you mean.  Yeah, of course she'd share that sort of thing with her sister."  The unicorn is staring at you with immense concern.  She did ask a question.  She has earned her right to know after all.  "But...yeah, I did have some siblings.  A sister and a brother.  Both younger than I am.  And yes, we talked a lot."  Her hooves played with the pages of her ledger.
"I'm...I'm sure they're doing fine."
>"Oh yeah, they were both doing good when I -last saw them."  Her lids lower over her eyes as a pen flies across pages, marking dates and times.
"Well, you're all set.  I hope the two of you have fun."  She pushes the books across her desk towards you.  You gather them in your hands and give her your thanks.  You place them in your multitude of bags and head back to your home.
>You look back at her before the door magically closed behind you.  She smiled and gave a knowing wink.  Oh no.
>Not her too.
>At this rate you were going to finish off that red marescoto all on your own.
----------
>Dawn of the final day.
>Your kitchen is a mess.  There is flour all over the counters.  Droplets of alfredo sauce speckle your counter as it boiled merrily in its pot.  You've burnt three of your fingers preparing the bread.
>Progress is slow, but it's progress nevertheless.  It did smell delicious, and you were fighting every urge to eat everything on your own, at least.  You just hoped Luna would feel the same.
>She will not be due for another hour or so, plenty of time to get everything set and make yourself presentable.
>The pot that the fettucini was boiling in began to froth over.
>Very nearly plenty of time.  No need to get nervous  You were a man, you got this covered like a moomoo on a fat person.
>The timer for the bread goes off.  You pull it out of the oven, in all its buttery, golden-brown glory.  You didn't burn it at all!  You nearly raised your hands up in victory and tossed it off the pan, but it was saved from such a fate by the barest string of rationality.
>You dice tomatoes, sprinkle croutons, grate cheese, and slice cucumbers.  You toss the glistening, juicy vegetables in a huge bowl.  When you were finished, it looked pretty enough for a painting.
>You drain the noodles, taste them, nice and tender.  Add butter and let it melt some more. A dash of pepper.  Mix.  Mix.  Let the sauce simmer for another few minutes.
>Good.  Good.  Now go get dressed.
>You wash your face, brush your teeth, fix your hair, throw on deoderant and...and...
>You slap yourself.
>What in God's name are you supposed to wear?  In your crazed dash to get everything ready for dinner you've completely overlooked how you're actually supposed to look for the darned thing.
>Alright, no issue.  You have dress shirts.  Rarity made them for you, they HAVE to look good.  Something with stripes?  Blue?  Green?  You pick out a pinstripe black and dark red button-down shirt.  You look good in pinstripe red.
>A small voice asks if you might be taking all this more seriously than it needs to be.  It is immediately set upon and torn apart by a thousand other brain cells who think you're not taking this seriously enough.
>You wanted to impress her.  You ARE going to impress her.  She is going to leave your house feeling more impressed and pleased than she's ever left any other house in her life.
>But...why?
>Her face flashes in your mind's eye again.
>You can't find an answer.
>Ten minutes remaining.  You set the table with lightning speed.  Table covers, plates, cutlery, glasses, forks (two entirely different kinds), are laid into place.  You slam down the pepper grinder. Salad bowl, don't forget to cover it!  Tongs, get those tongs down there.
>You look it all over.  You probably screwed up horribly somewhere, but it all looks good to your untrained eye.
>The excited beating in your chest takes its toll on you.  You pull out a chair from your carefully arranged table and toy with the shiny forks you've set.  You look at the wine currently icing in the buckets on the table's center.
>You are exhausted.
>And the night hasn't even started yet.  You look out the window.  The orange and deep reds of the late afternoon are giving way to the dark purples and pinpricks of starlight that signify the night.
>The great white disc that was Luna's domain rose over the horizon.  It slowed to a crawl and began its slow trek through the sky, meaning that Luna has let go of her leash over it, leaving it to its own devices.
>Through your walls you can hear the metallic splitting of air and drafts of wind.
>Right on schedule.  You stand from your chair and push it back into position.  Your spine turns into ice and your legs are sending requests to dive through the kitchen window and start running.  You can mostly ignore them.
>Your door knocks.
>Showtime.
>You open the door, and there stands Luna, looking...
>...looking...
>You cannot stop looking at her.
>She's looking...very...wow.
>Wow.
>WOW.
>In the dark her eyes look brighter than ever before.  It's like they're back lit with neon LEDs, showing off every dark edge and light striation of her irises.  Like incredible, expertly cut emeralds.  Her pupils are dark, but watery, glistening like the blackest of indian inks.
>Her coloring looks more varied.  Normally she was a very deep purple, but now it seemed liked the edges and changing grains of her fur were highlighted with gentler blues, making her contours more evident.  Every strand of her fur looked incredibly well-placed, with a soft sheen that bounced the light off of her with expert gentility.
>Two large wings gently curved around her sides, her feathers looked just as brilliant as her fur -full, glowing, and removing any doubt of her regal position.
>And then there was the rest of her attire.  Her normal solid torc was replaced with a more loosely arranged neglige that draped gently, yet proudly over her chest and shoulders.  It held echoing shapes of her cutie mark throughout its design and positively glowed with its white diamonds and ocean blue gems.
>Her high crown was replaced with a subtler tiara, much like her necklace, more subdued, but no less striking.
>And her hair.  If it looked ethereal before than it was nothing less than cosmic right now.  It looked like a window into some galaxy or nebula lightyears upon lightyears away.  Inside you could see swirling clouds of greens, reds and oranges, however muted against her predominately black waving mane.  You think you see a comet streak through it.
>Her cheeks  turned just a little red as she smiled at you.
>Your stomach turned into a billion butterflies.  You wanted to say something, but you were afraid they were going to fly out.
"I hope you intend to let me in."
>"Man, I hope so."
>Your mind initiates an emergency override.
>"I mean, yes!  Come in!"  You step aside and she walks in on slippers that look like they're made of solid ice.
>You close the door a little too hard.  You find that your hands have no idea what to do.  The eyes of the princess trace over you from the laces on your shoes to the highest strands of your hair.  She is not displeased by what she sees.
"You look very nice, Anon.  That color suits you."
>"Glad you like it.  It's...custom.  The designer has a very good eye for color.  You look pretty...well..." She looks at you expectantly as you fumble for words.
"Well...?"
>"I'm trying to compliment you, but I don't think I've ever done that before.  I don't know if I'm allowed."
"I give you express permission to compliment me."
>"Your -everything- suits you." You blink a few times to make sure she doesn't suddenly turn into something else.
>Nope.  Still radiant.  "I am so glad we are not eating off the floor."
"Oh, we are not?  I was greatly anticipating the opportunity to eat like an animal."
>You shrug and pass by her.  "I can still flip the table over and turn this into a free for all."  She slinks behind you and tilts her head, judging the worth in your suggstion.
"I should think my base desires can be reigned in for the evening.  You have clearly been working hard to prepare for tonight.  I would hate to derail your plans."
>"Just as well, Princess Luna."
"Do not start that."
>"I am not starting anything, your grace."
"You have a speck of onion on your cheek.  It is most becoming."
>"Huh, I...really?"  You dab a hand against your face.  Yup.  There it is.  Onion.  It must've landed on you when you were tossing the salad on the table one last time.
>Well, that's it,  night ruined.
>All nights ruined.  Forever.  Family dishonored.
>Everybody go home now.
>She laughs again.
"You have this ability to turn the most brilliant shade of red."
>You can roast marshmallows on your face right now.  You're losing grip, time for offensive action!
>"I'm trying to be as complimentary to the tomatoes as possible."
"Your efforts are impressive and valiant.  I pray they appreciate it."
>You lead her into the dining room.  She slows as she crosses the threshold.
>She looks more than little surprised.  You high-five yourself on the inside.  You pull out a chair for her.
"That could well be mistaken for a gentlemanly act.  Tell me, how did you replace the rough-and-tumble scallywag who crashes into bedrooms with an individual who actually harbors some manner of social savance?"
>"Oh, that guy?  I locked him up in the attic.   He might get loose though, crash through the ceiling, make off with all the silverware and family jewels."  She spreads a napkin over herself while shaking her head.
"And with you as host, I trust you would defend me from such a barbarian?"
>"God no.  That guy's a crazy person.  'Take the girl, just let me live.'  Sorry Luna, but I'd be lucky to get out of here with all my teeth."
>You pop open the bottle of marescato.
>"And did you really call me a scallywag?"
"There are other ways I can describe you."
>"You'll have to tell me one day."  You open up the steaming pot of noodles and alfredo.  You can see the gently curving nostrils of the princess quiver in anticipation.  You set her plate with the pasta and carefully sliced bread.  There is a seprate bowl for the salad.  You drizzle a light amount of dressing over it.
>You pick up the pepper shaker like it's a holy artifact.  "Would you care for some?"
>Please say yes.  Please say yes.  Please say yes.
"I would, in fact."
>YES.
>You pour on the absolutely perfect amount.
"You are better than  most of the servants at the castle.  I vow, they cannot understand "that is" in conjunction with the words 'more than enough.'"
>"So you think I'm qualified for a servant position in Canterlot?"  She chuckles.
"Stars above, never in a milion years."
>Jeeze, can't get a job anywhere in this place.
>"However, if this food's aroma is any indication of its quality, you may have a small chance of attaining a cook's position."
>You look at her as though she just gave you a gold star sticker.
"A small chance.  Microscopic."
>"Good enough for me."  You set your own plate and sit down.  "There.  Now eat and tell me it's the best thing ever."
>Her fork slides through the air and twists a small amount of noodles amongst its prongs.  She chews, very, very carefully.  She stops for a moment.  Chews some more and swallows.  She looks away from you and mutters.
"A moderate chance, perhaps."
>You're going to write a thank-you letter to Emerald Linguini.
>She takes a bite out of the garlic bread.
"Exquisite."
>"I made it myself."
"And somehow I still find myself able to enjoy it."
>You laugh into your glass of wine.  "Has anyone ever told you you're a very nice individual?"
"Of course."
>"I can tell you right now they were lying."
>She stares switchblades at you, but with the  blades unswitched.  You raise your glass towards her.  She raises her own.
>As the evening went on, the two of you almost stopped being so grating and eased into more relaxed conversation with a marked decrease in posturing.
>The wine was providing its own valuable assistance.
"And as she is floating there, an enourmous grasshopper pounced on her face.  She has a strong distaste of insects.  She would never admit such a thing to anyp0ny of course, but she does.  She did well keeping her composure, however I knew she was trembling behind that facade.  Then there was the fact  that the sun swerved most unsubtly proved a fine hint."
>"That sounds ten times better than the Summer Sun Celebration Twilight dragged me too."
"It inspired a grand panic.  The citizens would not stop showering her with tributes for weeks.
>"I would hate to receive several tons of presents every day."
"Her trails have their own peculiar slant.  Never mention that to her, however.  She would be mightily cross with you."
>She swirled the wine in her glass.
"Perhaps you may mention it in passing.  The sight of her throwing you out of the window would provide the court with much sorely needed levity."
>"I'll remember to bring my wings.  Of course I'll tell her it was all your idea.  I'm just a poor stupid human who's not that creative."  You lean back in your chair.  You've eaten enough, but not too much.  Pasta made you sleepy if you overdid it.
"I would not judge you that harshly.  You have your occasional strokes of insight and spouts of discernable intelligence.  I would think this evening so far is proof enough."
>"So you are enjoying yourself then?"
"I am.  As I've said, this is preferable to any available alternatives, if only for the company.
>You look at her from the top of your brow.  "If...only?"
"The meal was prepared with more competence than I initially imagined.  Perhaps I should stop being surprised at you surprising me."
>"But that's half the fun."  She finished the last of her wine.  You cap off your own.
>So both bottles are now gone.
>She carefully dabbed the edges of her mouth with her napkin before smoothly folding it up and placing it over her empty plate before pushing it away from her..
"This is nice.  I like this."
>"Go relax in the livingroom.  I'll clean up in here.  Host's duties and all that."  She smiled.
"Of course."
>"One more thing -catch!"  You throw her a chocolate mint.  She snatches it in mid-air.
"Very thorough."
>She steps away from the table and makes her way into the livingroom, unwrapping the chocolate.  You eat your own.  You gather up the plates, glasses and silverware before heading into the kitchen.
>As you dump everything into the sink to let them soak, there is a rap against the kitchen window above the sink.
>You look up.  It's Rainbow Dash.  She motions for you to open the window.
>Right now?  Right now?  Checking behind you to make sure noone is there, you slide it open, just barely.
>"What are you doing?" you hiss.
"Checking up on you, duh.  How's it going?  She's been here forever and you still have your shirt on, what's wrong with you?"
>"I'm not some sex-crazed monster like you are!  Now bug off before I hose you down."  You throw a cupful of water at her, but she dodges it.
"Someone's getting antsy.  Alright, I'll leave you two love-birds alone, but I want to know all the good stuff tomorrow!"
>She flies off.
>What is wrong with her?
>You wash your hands off, shaking your head.  You head back into the livingroom, but Luna passes by you.
"We always sit in your livingroom.  It is a lovely tonight.  Mayhaps we can relax outside?"
>You have some patio furniture in your backyard.  And it is a cool evening.  Fresh air would be nice.
>You rush to the door.  "Outside is fine.  Give me a  second to make sure everything is clear."
"Clear from what?"
>"Birds.  I have a slight bird problem.  Right now.  Flying blue things that keep bugging me.  They make the worst racket. They just won't shut up.  I want to make sure they're gone."  Her visage hardens some at the mention of her arch-enemy.
"Commendable."
>You crack open your back door and look around.  No sign of Rainbow.  You scan the trees closest to your house for any tufts of multi-colored hair that may be sticking out.  Everything looks clear.  But you did not fool yourself into thinking she wasn't still out there.  Somewhere.
>Watching.
>"It looks clear."  You step out and dust off your wooden chairs and benches.  Luna takes position on a swinging bench while you walk around the short distance of your backyard that is touched by the light of your windows
>Your house is a small ways away from the larger congregation of buildings of p0nyville.  You have a fairly impressive view of the countryside.  There is a collection of forests in the distance.  The trees that made it up swayed sleepily beneath gentle breezes.  Further beyond that you can see the valleys and mountain ridges that flank the town.  The snow white tips are made almost ghostly by the light of Luna's moon.
>More than a few clouds were making their course overhead.  Long, fluid things.  You could probably get some decent speed skating along them.  There was a mild temptation to suit up and race Luna to the top, but you were full, and drank a little more wine then you intended.
>Tomorrow, though.  You'd tear the skies up tomorrow.
"You're thinking of going up there?"
>She's good.  "A little bit.  But I don't think drinking and flying is a good idea."
"If you crashed, I would catch you."
>She was being sincere.  "But what if you crashed too?  You put away just as much as I did.  Two fools bumbling around up in the air, think about that."  She looked up at the sky.  Slim clouds, backlit by white light against an otherwise clear sky soared unassumingly overhead.  The stars twinkled away.
"There are worse things to think about."
>You nodded.  "True.  Good job on the lights tonight.  Really digging the ambiance."  She raised her head proudly.
"I am glad you noticed.  I gave extra consideration to opacity.  The star heights, and how their glow would diffuse over ground level."
>Ah, so that's why she wanted to go outside -she wanted to show off.  Impress you.  Well, you've already strutted your feathers, she can have her turn.  "The colors are all blending together very nicely out here."  There was magic laced throughout the atmosphere, you didn't even need to be told that.  It was a sublte magic that bent the light every so gently, but it made everything look much more lovely than what should be possible.  "I could just grab an empty frame and set it up out here.  Call it art and sell it for fifty bits, what do you think?"
"I think somep0ny already did that.  He made a fortune selling blank frames.  A genius, in his own way."
>"Oh."  You took a seat on a low-lying wooden chair.  Luna was staring up at her sky.  The moon further brightened the highlights of her fur.  The mountains rose and fell behind her as she swung softly through the  air. The glittering vortex of her mane wafted gently.  "We'll just to be satisfied with the view, for now."  She looked at you with orbs of pure lighted color.
"Do not think I fail to see what you're doing."
>"I'm trying to be nice is what I'm doing."  She laughed, preparing her own volley, but settles on simply sighing and laying her head against the rest of the bench.
"Thank-you.  It has been a trying week, Anon.  I needed this."
>You cross you hands behind your head.  "Talk to me."  She stares at the chair you're sitting on, admitedly a little more rustic than the rest of what you had.
"Get off that squat little thing and come sit by me."
>Her tail pats against the empty space on the bench.  "Is that an order?"  You grin a bit.
"Just a simple request from a guest.  Please."
>"For the sake of a guest, then."  She adjusts herself as you sit along her side.  You nudge the swing too and fro with the heel of your shoe.  You relax your elbow against the armrest, and she drapes a hoof over the rest on her side.
>The two of you consider the clouds.
>"So why is the mightiest voice in the kingdom so quiet right now?"  She closes her eyes.
"For the past several nights me, my sister, and other members of the court have been honored guests in some of the finest halls and restaurants in Canterlot.  I was told how privelaged they felt to be graced by my company.  How incredibly grateful they were to have such esteemable vistors.  How they were unworthy to be in our radiant presence.  How lovely we looked.  'My dearest princess, if this evening pleases you in the slightest, then my entire life's work has been validated beyond a doubt.'"
>"You're popular like that, yeah."
"I am.  Or rather, my station is.  And it is not entirely without its glamor.  And yes, when I am in the mood for enraptured attention I can play it like a musician's most finely tuned instrument."
>She shivers a little bit as she turns towards you.  Her voice picks up a notch.
"I love it.  I am not ashamed to admit that in the slightest."
>Her gaze turns skyward again, and her voice drops back to its softer tenors.
"But...not every night.  Not so constantly, especially when they all say the same things.  Everyone knows the prestige that comes with serving royalty.  What good a smiling princess will do for their reputation.  Some of our hosts are more genuine than others, and of course my sister would not patron an establishment that is entirely interested in us only because of the financial opportunities we represent."
>She looks at you, green spotlights under soft white moonlight.
"They all wanted to please us.  However, none of them wanted, well...me.  I have never spoken to any of our hosts before.  They did not want me for knowing my company before hand.  Tonight is the first time in a long time that I have dined with someone who wanted me there for simply valuing who I am."
>She glances off.
"I have had far too much to drink."
>She rubs her temples with her hoof.
"I apologize.  This week I've dealt with traders, organized seasonal changes with agricultural commitees, and discussed tidal patterns with fishermen.  And yet these are my grievances.  I sound like a spoiled foal."
>"No, that's...that makes sense. And...wow, you are busy."
"I have to constantly badger my sister to delegate more responsibilities to me..  If it was up to her I would have nothing to do all day but traipse around the gardens and drink tea."
>She is making you feel really lazy, but don't change the subject.  "So you just wanted to be around a friend?"
"Of course.  Someone who does not look upon me and see the princess, but instead simply sees 'Luna.'
>She shifts her position on the bench so that she is facing in your direction.
"And that someone is you."
>She says it low and hushed, almost like a confession.
>Say something, you idiot.  "I see where you're coming from.  Feeling hemmed-in and paraded around for everyone else?  Like everything is a circus?  I would've lost it a long time ago."  She edges closer towards you and leans her head against your shoulder.  Alarms sound off in your head.  But for some reason your own arm reaches around her back and cups her arm, drawing her warm body a little closer to yours, very nearly like a reflex  What are you doing?  She relaxes a little under your touch.  "I'm just glad you can feel comfortable here."  Your fingers rub against her delicate fur.
"I am glad as well.  It is...different.  We have grown accustomed to the circus of the court.  But life cannot all be ringleaders and spotlights.  We enjoy knowing a place where we may walk away from the music and having...someone to sit alongside with."
>You sit there in pleasant silence for a while.  There is only the sound of far-off blowing trees and the unassuming creak of the swing being pushed along soft winds.  Her slim shoulders shuffle beside you.
>She lifts her head up towards your own.  Her breath is cool along the side of your face.
>She kisses you on the cheek an//ll~~!!#~!#@#>>>@##$DSOO~~~
>>>>>>>
>>>>R>E>S>T>A>R>T>>>>>>>>>
>Your world is fireworks.  Your head jerks to the side, and your eyes nearly rocket out of your ears.
>WHAT WAS THAT?
>It was though an icestorm was unleashed on the side of your face.  It sent off signals that went clear to your ear on the other side.
>You stare at her, whether it is in amazement, confusion, or unexperienced excitement, you have no idea.  She pulls back and fiddles at her necklace.
"We apologize, it has been a long time, it is ju-"
>Your fingers brush along the edges of her jaw, bringing her lips close to yours.
>They touch.
>BOOM.
>It's like kissing a lightning storm.  Electricity and ice and water flow from her touch and into your body.  Every nerve in your lips is firing off rounds to the furthest tips of every limb on your person.
>Your mind is filled with images of waxing and waning moons.  Of galaxies in space crashing together.  Stars are exploding.  You hear heavy rains fall against your ears.
>Her mouth opens up more, slowly teasing you in further.  You find yourself being drawn along a torrent of sensation and electric impulses that spark across your bones and into your muscles.  She feels warm, and her tongue incredibly smooth, but her breath is cool as ice, almost like mint leaves.
>Her breathing picks up.  It washes over you like waves in the ocean.   You feel like you're going to drown.  But you don't really care right now.  Her voice pleadingly murmers nothing as her arms begin to caress your shoulders.
>You pull away, just before every synapse in your brain blows out and your mind fries completely.
>What did you just do?
>You have officially went insane is what you just did.
>"That was..th...that..."
"We are aware of that effect."
>"Could've warned me."
"You were doing rather well."
>The corners of her lips lit up with a sense of mischief.  She leaned against the opposite side of the bench once more and closed her eyes.  There was much more than wine at work tonight.
>Your face was still buzzing.  Your mind was in a frantic turmoil.  Should you say something?  You should probably say something.  You open your mouth.
"You do not have to say anything.  We know that was unexpected."
>You choose not to say anything.
>She carefully steps down from the bench.  Her wings are loose and their tips trail gently along the ground.
>You hop onto the ground and walk behind her.  "I guess the mints were a good idea."  She laughs nervously.
"They helped, yes.  You clearly know how to plan an evening."
>"I'm very good at making things memorable."
 "There are worse talents to have."
>She looked to the sky and frowned.
"We fear we must depart before the hour grows too late.  We would stay longer if we could, however there are those who expect us."
>She looked at you, her mouth moved quietly.  You saw the barest hint of blush under her eyes.
 "We shall talk more in due time, we promise."
>She looked you up and down exactly once as she slowly opened her wings.  They catch on the wind and lift her across the grass and into the air.
"We've had a memorable night.  Thank-you for having us, Anon."
>And she winked an eye before the air warped around her and made her vanish in a hail of sparks and a puff of ozone.
>Nothing but the sound of trees again.  The moon stares down unblinkingly.  With nothing more to say you head back inside, shutting the door behind you.
>Your back presses against it as you slide down to the cold hardwood floor.
>You just kissed Luna.  Multiple times.  And she kissed you back.
>A certain sense of magnitude dawns over you.
>"I am in so much trouble."
>You were.  You really, really were.
--------------
>Sleep was a difficult thing to catch that night.  And when you finally did force your eyes shut, they were bombarded with images of dark and ghostly alicorn who's lips merest graze could tear houses from their foundations.
>Her eyes were haunting, and bigger than the world.
>It was still dark outside when you woke up, panting.
>This was going to be an issue you needed to work out.
>You stumbled into your bathroom as the barest hints of light began to creep upon your windows.  Hands twist over the handle for cold water.
>It fills your cupped palms.  Your forearms are shaking.
>The clear water from the fountain ran down your face, but brought no further clarity to your mind.  You stared at the mirror through wet fingers, wondering what was wrong with you.
>You were attracted to a p0ny, that's what was wrong.
>You were attracted, right?  Obviously, but to what, exactly?  And WHY?  Was she beautiful?
>Of course, she was.  Her eyes along could stay the course of crashing mountains.  But was she beautiful to you in *that* way?
>You did not want to answer that at the moment.
>This whole time you must've been lying to yourself.  You know what you did, however impulsive it was.  A small part of you must have been hoping this entire time.  That you could yet make an honest connection with another soul, even here of all places.
>But were you ready for something like that?  WAS this an honest connection?  Or were you just becoming desperate?
>Your elbows rested on the chilly sink.  You did not know if you wanted to answer that question either.
>You needed to talk to someone.
>In the meantime you did what you could to take your mind off of things.  You washed the dishes from last night, swept around your table, and stowed away the valuable cutlery into safe places, and disposed of the trash.
>The sun rose higher.  You were afraid to look at it, as though its caretaker may come screaming down from her throne demanding an explanation.
>You begin to clean the rest of your house, as if to feign innocence to the eye in the sky as well as in your own mind.
>And when there was nothing left to tend to, you dressed yourself in clean, but unassuming clothes and stepped outside.  You needed to walk.  Or fly.  Work off nervous energy.
>The sky looked incredibly inviting.
>Screw it.  You were flying.
>Back to your workshop.  The tables were lined with additional wing-frames that you've begun construction on.  You figured that having back-ups would make a for a good idea, and it would be a good opportunity to explore variations in their designs.
>Moments later you are standing outside again, strapped in snuggly and running a safety check.  There is no one else around at this hour, so you easily take off running down the streets and leap towards the air.
>You jumped passed birds and the tallest of trees.
>The streets and houses shrunk into pinpricks.  You wanted them to become as tiny as possible.  All you wanted right now was to jump and flap until your heart would explode and your arms fall off.
>You climbed and you climbed into an endless field of sky that was turned oranges and purples from far-off morning rays.
>Your boots helped you make grand jumps onto whispy platforms.  The clouds this morning were still thin, slender things.  Very easy to slip on, or fall through if you weren't careful, but it gave you something to focus on.
>You skated along a miles-long track of flat cloud that split and spread many times along its build.  They split like cream as you smoothly moved across their vapors.  The sound of cutting through air was constant and calming.
>Your speed was good.  Control was excellent.  There was nothing but strong winds and split clouds in your ears, and the warm morning sun on your face.  Blood was being pumped into your extremities.  Your ears your burning, your arms were definitely going to be sore tonight.
>There were birds below and the sun slowly crept higher and higher.  The crisp blue of sunrises began to appear in the distance.
>And all the way up there you found a moment of peace.
>The cloud trail stopped.  You kept your wings close.
>You slid off the edge of the sky and fell towards the world, spinning slowly.
>You let gravity take the reigns for a while.  You didn't want to think about anything for the moment.  Any minute now you would put your wings in full spread and angle your legs just-so and ease the momentum until you made contact with the grass, and be a normal panicking human once more.
>But for now, just for a precious few instances, there was nothing but air above you and air below.  It was clean air, bright and calming, and everything in the world made perfect sense.  All you had to do was breathe.
>
>
>
>And there's the ground again.  Dust and loose bits of grass fly around your large-spanning wings as you land.  You check everything before dissasembling the harness and stowing it away safely.
>Shower.  Wash off some of the odder particles that float around way up there.
>You've worked up enough of an appetite to actually make breakfast now.  Fresh juice, toasts, eggs.  They sit very happily in your stomach.
>You've exercised.  You showered.  You've eaten.  Alright, you feel better.  This day is just golden-grahams.
>Sure, you've completely avoided thinking about your little dilemma and are actually in no way closer to getting them resolved, but at least now you feel as though you can look them in the eye.  And that was a very important first step.
>Next step, next step...
>You need to talk to someone.
>But who?
>Not Rainbow.  God save you from her once she breaches the subject with you.  You are never going to hear the end of it.
>Twilight would be the better option, but she had the misfortune of being so very Twilight.   She would give you fifteen different books about relationships and several essays she's penned on the subject.
>No...there was only one other person you could trust with this, as mad as it sounded in your head.
-----
>Pinkie Pie was writing frantically on a notepad while you lay on her bed.  She insisted upon it.
"So you say zat you are feeling the lovey-doves to ze princess unt it is causing great conflict to your thermobellum?"
>"Thermo-what-now?"  Why are you doing this?  Why is she wearing a fake beard?
"It says so right here on ze notes.  Irrefutable psychoanalysis!"
>She shows you her notepad.  It is a cross cut-away picture of your head filled with cakes, balloons, birds, and Luna, all in exquisite detail.
>"Where did you learn to cross-hatch so well?"  She puts away the paper.
"Years of study at ze university."
>She pulls off the fake beard and scratches off the bits of dried glue on her face.
"Now then.  Anon, when you look at Luna, does your tummy go wumbly?"
>"Wumbly?"
"Or does your head feel like it's gonna float away like a balloon on a string?  Or do you look at her and your heart just jumps around in your chest and tries to squeeze itself until you think it's gonna pop!?"
>"The head thing.  And the chest thing.  My elbows feel really cold too, what does that mean?"  She tightens her mouth and shakes her head.
"Oh that's bad."
>"That's bad?  How bad?"
"Really super-bad.  That means you like her."
>"I already may have suspected that."  You press one of the many pillows on her bed against your face.  "That's the problem."
"Well, Luna likes you back, right?"
>"She might.  We were both a little confused last night.  She doesn't hate me anymore, I know that much.  She said we would talk again."
"And you want to talk to her again?"
>"I...do.  If only we can get some things straightened out, but I don't know what I want straight in the first place!  It's...she's..."
"Do you think she's pretty?"
>"I think she's -she's really -ah, nice and..." You groan loudly into a pillow and try your hardest to smother yourself.  There is a gush of hot air that is rushing up your throat, and it's making you grit your teeth and squeeze your eyes hard enough to crush diamonds.  You exhale heavily and slam your fists against the bed. "Oh GOD, who am I kidding, she looked SO HOT last night!"  You wanted to tear out your tongue with a hot poker.  That was it.  No going back now.
"So you kissed her because she's pretty?"
"Yes.  I mean no.  I mean, ugh, I don't know WHY I kissed her, I just did.  It was like this -she was talking to me.  And I mean, actually talking to me.  The things she was saying, it just made me feel...I don't know."  Your hands are making idiotic waving motion to the air, like you're trying to strangle your own inability to articulate your frustrations.
"Special?"
>The word echoed in your head in big bold red letters.  "Yeah.  Exactly.  Special.  Luna is...she's a tough nut.  I don't think she's had anyone to really talk to in a while."  Pinkie twiddled with the pencil in her hand.  "And she's the last person I'd expect to say those sort of things to me.  I had...a long time ago...there was..."  You brought your hands close to you.  "Someone else...who felt close enough to me to say those sort of words.  To trust me, and make me feel special."  Words were catching on the tips of your teeth.  You didn't want to look at Pinkie, or the ceiling or the wall or anything else.  "and I did some things...to not earn that trust."  The mare sat herself on the edge of the bed.
"And when you figured out that they didn't trust you anymore, you felt bad about it, right?"
>"It was the worst feeling in the world."  She nodded quietly and stared out the window.
"And you would do anything to keep something like that from happening ever again."
>"I would."
"Okay.  So Luna trusts you, but do you trust her?"
>"I still don't entirely trust myself.  I mean.  Is this even okay?  Is something like this supposed to happen, after all, she's a...you know, and I'm a...whatever."
"Anon, the twin's baby-talk makes more sense than what you just said.  You're not that different.  You both have teeth.  Both have hair, although she has more than you.  And you both have this really weird way of making friends."
>"But-"
"No.  No buts! Bad Anon!"
>She hits you with a pillow. You shut up.  She stands up, raising her hooves to the air.
"'Is this okay?' I know there's no such thing as a dumb question, but that one is trying really hard to be one when it grows up.  You're talking like you want approval.  Like you need somep0ny's permission to like Luna."
>She bounces up the mattress and looks you in the eye.
"Does she make you smile?"
>"She does."
"Do you make her smile?"
>You had to think about that one for a moment.  "I do.  Most of the time she's rolling her eyes or just finished being sarcastic, but yeah, I make her smile."
"Then you shouldn't need anyp0ny's permission.  If you can make someone smile, then nothing in the entire world should stop you from making that happen as much as you can."
>You sat there in stunned silence.
"There's only two people you need approval from, and that's the person living in here."
>She poked you in the noggin.
"And here."
>She poked you in the heart.
>Oh my God.  That was so cheesey you feel like that should've come with a plate of nachos.
"And if they agree, but you still don't listen, then you're the biggest dum-dum in town.  So you have to make that choice for you.  Unless you decide to make the choice for the other you instead.  Just make sure you do it for you instead to you, especially with you, if that's what you want to do."
>Still talking to Pinkie here.  Yet the pink party girl's  voice is hitting more buttons in your brain than it should.
"You're boots are all shaky because you like somep0ny.  And that somep0ny likes you back. Okay, okay, that's silly, but it still makes sense.  You should be more excited than anything else, you know why?"
>"Why?"
"Because from what I'm hearing you just want everything to work out for the better.  Anon, you are not a bad person.  If you were and you didn't care about how this worked out then you wouldn't even be here talking to me.  You want this to go to good places, but you're scared because you've drawn a few oopsi-doodles in the past.  But like I said, you don't want that to happen, and I know you won't let it happen if you put your mind to it, 'cus you can be a smartie like that.  First you found a friend.  And now that friend can be something more than a friend.  A special double-friend."
>"So wh-"  She raised her hoof to stop you.
"If you found someone who makes you feel all fizzy like a bottle of soda then you should just keep shaking it and see if the top flies off or not!"
>She jumped off the mattress and walked to her dresser.
"The rest is all up to you!"
>She scribbled some things down on her notepad and glued the fake beard back on.
"Unt now about ze issue of payment for mein services."
>She handed you a bill.  You read it.  "Strawberry lemonade?"
"Two glasses of ze strawberry lemonadez."
>How can she make sense and then be completely loony-tunes at the same time?
>No.  Never mind.  Don't try to tackle more craziness.  Just take what gems you can get from this girl and run with it.  The little session here left you feeling a little more clear on this entire thing.
>Now you have the barest sliver of confidence to tackle this head-on and see it through.
>It actually made you feel a little excited.  You were still a little apprehensive about this, but at least you had some perspective now.
>"Alright then, let's go out.  Drink lemonade that's so sweet it makes our teeth hurt!"  She hops excitedly in the air and squeals.
"YES!  That's the best kind!  I like it when you have all the strawberry pulp at the bottom of the glass and you get to fish it out with the straw.  It's like the last great treat after opening up, like, a bazillion presents!"
>"Oh yeah,"  you get up from the mattress,  "this whole thing is gonna one big treat alright."