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- >You stir in your recliner, ripped away from the bliss of sleep's sweet embrace by more knocking at your door.
- >What you wouldn't give for 5 more minutes...
- >Seems this was becoming a recurring theme in your life, being woken up by loud knocking at your door.
- “CLOSED!”
- >You pray it's enough to send them off. After the morning you had, today was a day off.
- >”Slacking off, Anon? When did you go soft on me?”
- >You painfully open your eyes to the raspy, tomboyish voice.
- “Door's open. Dash.”
- >The door swings open, Dash stands staring at your lifeless corpse.
- >”Wow, Anon. You look terrible.”
- >She smirks as you take a look at the clock.
- >Late afternoon already? Even for you, this was a late start.
- >You pull your recliner upright looking back to Dash.
- “Nice to see you too. What's up”
- >You stretch yourself into a yawn, mustering the strength to come to your feet.
- >”I thought I'd come by to pick up that book before heading back home. My bad for waking you up.”
- “No worries. Bout time I got to it anyway. Wait, weren't you guys supposed to leave a few hours ago?”
- >”Yeah, the rest of the girls took the train home already. Soarin and me decided to get lunch before I left, though.”
- “Oh. Right on...”
- >Another yawn.
- >”Yeah. So, about that book.”
- >You pull one of the drawers under your workbench open, pulling the book out and holding it up.
- >Her smile grows wider at the sight of it, flinging herself in your direction, hooves reached out to collect her prize.
- >Quickly, you swing the book back around and behind your back, giving her a deadly stare, recalling the 'other' thing she left behind.
- >She winces a little, scratching one of her forelegs with a hoof. She took the hint.
- >”I.. promise to use the bucket next time...”
- >You close your eyes and sigh. You don't know what it is about these confounded ponies, but you just can't stay mad at them for some reason.
- >You bring the book back to her as she smiles meekly, taking it close to her chest.
- >”Thanks, Anon...”
- “No worries Dash. So Soarin wasn't mad you spent the night?”
- >It takes her a second to see where you were going. A smirk soon follows.
- >”Nah. He was cool. As soon as I told him I spent the night at your place, he seemed to calm down.”
- “Oh?”
- >”Well, yeah. He said something about you being the only one in Canterlot he didn't have to worry about, or something. 'Busy playing with your wood'.”
- >Your eye twitches at the comment. Et tu, Soarin?
- >She giggles at your reaction to the jab.
- >”Don't take it so hard, Anon. He was just kidding.”
- >She pats the side of your shoulder with a hoof before making her way to the door.
- >”Well thanks for taking care of my book, Anon. I'll see you...”
- >Seems something caught her attention. She stops mid aid and turn to your counter.
- >”Hey! Is that Gentle Jack?!”
- >You notice you failed to put Barley's little present away last night.
- “Yeah, a gift from that bartender I introduced you too.”
- >She turns to you with a devilish grin.
- >”Well?”
- “Well what?”
- >”You're not going to offer a mare a drink? Jeez, Anon. I thought you were the well mannered type.”
- >She turns her nose into the air in playful annoyance.
- >You decide that one more dig wouldn't hurt.
- “Aw, come on, Dash. I just got my floor cleaned up!”
- >You smile in superiority.
- >Seems the sarcasm wasn't lost on her. She scrunches her nose in frustration while blushing slightly in embarrassment.
- >”Get over it will ya? We're having a drink!”
- >She tosses her book on the counter with a loud thud and makes for the kitchen.
- >She returns shortly with 2 rocks glasses, ice included.
- >What the hell? It was almost evening, anyway.
- “One drink.”
- >”That's the Anon I know!”
- >You grab the bottle and pour a glass for you and dash, taking a seat at your work bench, Dash claiming the recliner.
- >”You know, Applejack's family makes this stuff. You should come to Ponyville when you have some time to check out her farm.”
- >That's right... You always loved Applejack Daniels whiskey. You're surprised you didn't put two and two together when you met her at breakfast.
- “No shit? Maybe I will.”
- >”Cool. They all seemed to like you. I'm sure they'd love to have you around. Just let me know. Pinkie will probably want to throw you a party.”
- >You swill a little of the whiskey. This stuff really was good...
- “Right, Miss 20 Questions...”
- >Dash chuckles at your jab.
- >”Yeah, that's just Pinkie. She's a lot of fun though.”
- “What about that Fluttershy, character? I didn't hear a peep out of her the entire time we were at breakfast.”
- >Seems you caught her with a tough question mid swig. She coughs a little before wiping her foreleg.
- >”Yeah... Fluttershy isn't really the talkative type...”
- “That much I could tell. What's with the staring though?”
- >She scratches the back of her head a little, turning her head away from you for a second.
- >”How should I put this... She has a... Thing for animals.”
- “I don't follow.”
- >”I mean she has a THING for animals...”
- >Her inflection is all the hint you need.
- “Oh. Oooh!”
- “Wait, are you calling me an animal?”
- >Dash giggles. Returning to her drink.
- >”Well you're not exactly a pony, Anon. I'm sure she was just curious.”
- >Well, you weren't expecting that. You make a mental note for future reference.
- >”Yeah. My advice, try not to be caught alone with her. She's super nice. Just a little...”
- “It's always the quiet ones right?”
- >She chuckles again, a little more nervously.
- >”You could say that.”
- “Thanks for the heads up.”
- >The two of you continue to enjoy the drink before Rainbow Dash takes on a more curious look.
- >”Hey, Anon. Mind if I ask you something?”
- “Shoot.”
- >”Earlier at breakfast. It looked like Princess Luna was a little ticked off at you. What was that all about?”
- >You almost spit whiskey all over your friend. It would serve her right for the stunt she pulled the other night at the tavern, but you hold back to a loud snort.
- “Uhh. Yeah. She was just a little pissed about something. Every thing's fine, though. No big deal.”
- >You pray to the powers that be that she gets bored of the subject and moves on.
- >”Anon...”
- >You curse the powers that be.
- “Yeah?”
- >She looks at you with the look of a mother who knows when her son done goofed and wants the full story.
- >She picks up her glass and holds it firm, slowly beginning to tilt it to the side.
- “Dash...”
- >She tilts the glass more and more. She's made it abundantly clear that she's willing to empty the glass all over your prized chair.
- >You're favorite chair.
- >The alcohol would ruin the cloth. You'd have to have it reupholstered! It was perfectly broken in, too!
- >You curse this land of Laffy Taffy ponies for ignoring the clear superiority of leather.
- >You slowly get up from the bench. Taking light strides towards dash, hands out in front, negotiating for the life of you precious recliner.
- “Dash, let's just talk about this...”
- >The action causes Dash's hoof to jerk a little, almost sending a drop over the edge of the glass.
- >This stops you dead.
- >”Yes. Lets.”
- >Her eyes are cold as ice. She means business.
- >You throw your hands up in defeat while sitting back on the bench.
- >”You were saying?”
- >...
- “She was jermmph.”
- >”I didn't catch that.”
- “She was jealous that I scrrmfrehrmm.”
- >Dash's expression becomes even more stern.
- >”Anon. Celestia as my witness, I will do it.”
- >She tilts the glass even further, only stopping once the liquid was as the sbolute edge of the glass.
- >In a fit of panic, you allow the cat out of the bag.
- ”She was jealous that I scratched your head at breakfast!"
- >You wince heavily at the outburst. Only turning back to make sure that Dash hadn't done the unthinkable.
- >She hadn't. She slowly places the glass onto the small table at the side of your recliner and continues to stare at you with wide open eyes.
- >A brief pause continues before you see the bottom of her eyes start to raise a little. The corners of her mouth follow suit.
- >Here it fucking comes.
- >”BAAHAHAHA!”
- >Dash is now rolling around on your, albeit, dry chair.
- >You move to refill your glass. You start to wonder if the chair would have looked better in another color.
- >One laugh tantrum later, Dash finally remembers how to form a sentence.
- >”...Oh man, Anon! …That's rich.”
- >You you drown your frustration in another swig.
- >With friends like this, you're glad you didn't have any enemies.
- >”I mean. I knew you two were chummy, but I didn't know you actually went for it!”
- >You do your best to initiate some damage control.
- “Whoah! It's not like that. We're just friends.”
- >”Haha! Yeah, sure. Whatever you say, Anon...”
- “Seriously Dash. It's not like that.”
- >She's almost at tears by now.
- >”Totally... So is she still mad?”
- >You lean back on the bench, your back pressing against the table as you down the rest of your drink.
- “I don't think so.”
- >You pull out a cigarette and light it on the nearby lamp.
- >The smoke does little to unrustle your jimmies at this point.
- >”What'd you do to get back on her good side?”
- “I invited her to a show at the amphitheater tomorrow.”
- >You expect something from Dash, but she's oddly quiet.
- >You turn to look at her. She's staring at you wide eyed and slack jawed.
- >”You're going on a date? You... Anon... Are going on a date?! With Princess Luna?!?!”
- “It's not a date, Dash.”
- >And she's back to dead pan.
- >”How is this not a date?”
- >You open your mouth to respond, stopping before words have a chance to come.
- >The little shit had a point.
- >”That's what I thought. Man, Anon, you're like a colt sometimes, you know that.”
- “At least I can make it to the sink.”
- >She shoots you an annoyed glare, softening it only to continue her interrogation.
- >”So what are you going to see?”
- “A musician friend of mine. She's doing a midnight show, so I thought Luna would be be able to come along.”
- >Dash raises an eyebrow.
- >”She?”
- “Lyra. You met her once a while back, didn't you?”
- >Dash sighs heavily, rubbing her face with a hoof.
- >She finishes the rest of her glass, her face growing stern again.
- >She picks herself up and drops off the chair, making her way to the door after grabbing her book.
- “Hey. where are you going?”
- >”This is about all I can handle for one day, Anon. Have fun tomorrow...”
- >You're curious what brought this about.
- “Alright, I guess. Tell Soarin I said hello.”
- >”Sure thing, Anon. Let me know if you ever want to come hang out in Ponyville.”
- >She shoots you a quick grin before exiting the workshop and flying off out of sight.
- >That blue cunt is going to be the death of you...
- >You finish the last drag the cigarette would allow before turning your attention back to the pile of wood spread across the workshop floor.
- >You figure you've had enough of this subject.
- >It's about time you got started on the dining room set. You'd slacked off enough as it is and the night is still young.
- >You mull over the sketches and measurements before beginning to pencil out the cuts.
- >As you start to make the rough cuts, bringing boards and blocks to more manageable sizes, something pulls your attention away.
- >What Dash had said seems to be weighing on your mind.
- >You hadn't intended it to be a date, but the everything seemed to point to that being the case.
- >You wonder what Luna thought of all this.
- >It's doubtful someone like her would take the gesture so seriously.
- >But then why did she take the thing with Dash so seriously?
- “Aurgh...”
- >You shake your head, as if the to somehow jostle the thoughts loose.
- >With no success, you bring yourself away from your work and make your way to the record player.
- >Music was always good for helping you get into the rhythm.
- >You pick out an album that Dash lent you a while ago. You hope she's forgotten about it by now.
- >Some DJ from Manehattan is on the cover.
- >As you drop the needle, the workshop becomes flooded with the heavy beat of house music.
- >You let the music replace any thoughts you might have about what you and Dash chatted about.
- >As the music takes hold, you start to find your groove. Continuing where you had left off.
- >The music is accented with the pounding, sawing and scraping of tool on wood.
- >You're finally making some head way.
- >Hours seem to fly by as you continue your progress.
- >The sun continues it's decent as you work.
- >It's close to 10pm by now. You're satisfied enough with your progress that you feel you've earned your dinner.
- >You dust yourself off and kill the record player, pulling out another cigarette as you make your way to the kitchen.
- >Just before you're hand reaches the refrigerator, another series of loud knocks pulls your attention.
- “You've got to be fucking kidding me...”
- >Since when did you become Mr. Popular?
- >You pocket the cigarette and answer the door. Annoyance is coursing through you by now.
- >One day of uninterrupted work. That's all you were asking for...
- >You open the door to see who it was, being greeted with a set of beaming, golden eyes.
- “Lyra?
- >She smiles ear to ear.
- >”Hey, Anon!”
- >You turn back to the clock. Sure enough. 10 motherfucking o'clock.
- “What brings you hear so late?”
- >Her smile becomes a little more sheepish, a faint blush appears, but is barely noticeable in the night.
- >”Well. I was working on a song for tomorrow night and wondered if you wouldn't mind giving me your opinions on it.”
- >Why now? Why you?
- >”I promise it won't take long.”
- >Her eyes grow a little desperate. No way you were getting out of this one.
- “Sure, what the hell. I was about to take a second to get some dinner.”
- >She squees in excitement as she rushes past you and into the workshop, her saddlebag emitting dead plonks and plinks, probably from her lyre.
- >It was still mad cute, though.
- >This fucking mare always did manage to put you in a better mood. You warm up to the idea of taking a little break.
- >The door closes behind you as you walk back into the workshop.
- >You think back to what Barley has said.
- >Something about having someone around not being so bad, or some sappy silliness.
- >Come to think of it, Dash was the only pony who ever hung out while you worked.
- >You pause for a second and look over to Lyra, who is now sitting on your chair, tuning her lyre.
- >She returns your look with a smile.
- >"Something wrong, Anon?"
- >You smile a little.
- "Nothing."
- >Maybe you could do with the company tonight. Besides, what could one song hurt?
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