Plush Ado About Nothing

by shortskirtsandexplosions

Rating: teen
Tags: Lyra, Romance, Spike, Comedy, Main 6, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 5295

One week after making Spike a Rarity plushie to cuddle with, Lyra Heartstrings finds herself with six new clients... all in one day.

As it turns out, not all I do is make music. I actually have a pretty decent talent making plush pony dolls on the side. It brings in good bits... on occasion, such as this one time a little baby dragon commissioned me into crafting him a white unicorn with a blue mane to snuggle with at night.

Then one day, about a week later, I suddenly found myself with more clients. Like... a lot more clients.

Published 2015-04-22 12:40:02 UTC
Last updated 2015-04-22 12:40:02 UTC

"Strings" Has a Double-Meaning, You See...

I hear light knocking on my front door for the third straight minute, and this is when I realize how badly I need a cup of coffee.

Stifling a groan, I finish rolling an orange rug flat across the wooden floorboard of my shop. I clear my throat and musically echo: “Just a minute!”

I turn and trot past harps, guitars, sitars, a piano—all my musical instruments tagged and on display. Taking a moment to catch my breath and straighten my mane, I spin the “closed” sign around in the window and unlock the door. I open it with a smile.

“Good morning. I'm terribly sorry about that,” I say. “Better to open late than never, am I right?”

“Oh. Yes. I suppose.” The pony outside my shop is a timid, demure thing. I'm certain I've seen her out and about, especially along the fringes of the Everfree Forest. Only when she speaks a little more do I recognize her. A voice that soft and melodic is hard to come by. “I can come back some other time if you're not quite ready to open.”

I can feel myself already hesitating to respond. “Oh no!” I blurt instead, and it makes the poor thing jolt. “It's quite fine! Please... uh... do come in! Fluttershy, is it?”

“Uhm... yes.” She takes her sweet time stepping into my shop, her hooves brushing nervously across the creaking floorboards as if each plank might suddenly shatter and give way. I see her wings, and I can't help but wonder what terrible storms this poor pegasus must have flown through to have ended up so anxious in demeanor. Between every other step, she pauses to look over her shoulder, as if something or someone might be spying on her from beyond the storefront window. “And your name is Lyra Heartstrings,” she says... more like croaks. “Uhm... I-I've heard quite a lot about you.”

“I see my reputation precedes me,” I say with a smile and a wink. “It's my pride to sell and distribute the finest musical instruments in all of Ponyville. What would suit your fancy, you think? A xylophone? A tambourine? Heehee... you really strike me as a tambourine type.”

“Actually... uhm... I-I heard that...” She hides half her face behind her mane, and a single eye peeks through the pink malaise, twitching and turquoise. “...th-that you do other stuff on the side.”

I blink at her, then turn about to glance at the tell-tale work bench full of linens, buttons, ribbons, and various patchwork textiles in the far corner. “Well... yes... I do happen to provide a rather humble hobby and craftwork service on the side.”

“And... uhm... is it true that you... uh...” Fluttershy gulps a lump the size of Manehattan down her throat. “...make dolls among other things?” She bites her lip, all a-squirming. “As in pony plush dolls?”

I stare at her for a little while longer than I should. I try and salvage the awkward pause with a slightly less awkward grin. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.” I lean my head to the side. “Would you like to commission a pony doll, Fluttershy?”

“Erm... yes...” Fluttershy takes another heavy breath, her trembles slightly less pronounced. “I mean... if that's quite alright with you.”

I shrug. “Why wouldn't it be? There's nothing wrong with wanting a pony doll custom made for you, Fluttershy, ma'am.”

“Oh... oh good...” And just like that, she deflates, as if she's been buckling under an intense weight this whole time. “I mean, I-I didn't... uhm... want to be insulting to you or anything, since you're a musician first and... uhhh—”

I cut her off. “Nothing to worry about, Miss.” Using telekinesis, I float a pen and paper over, preparing to take notes. “Why don't you describe the doll that you want to me?”

Almost immediately, Fluttershy's eyes turn into tiny pinpricks. “Describe... the doll...?”

“Well... certainly.” I nod, blinking at her. “I presume you want a specific coat, mane, mane color, tail... etc...”

“Erm... what are your rates?”

“Earth ponies are ten bits,” I say. “Pegasi and unicorns are twelve bits.” I smile. “Simply because the wings and horns take extra material.”

“R-right. That makes sense.”

“Accessories... it depends...” I smirk. “Hehe. I could even put the pony in an itty-bitty hoodie for you, if you like.” A sudden chill rolls through me, and I glance awkwardly at the ceiling. “Yeesh... did I forget to crank the A/C down?”

“Well, okay then.” Fluttershy's limbs tense, as if she's preparing to leap off a cliff. “I would like it to be an earth pony with... uhm... an orange coat.”

“Orange coat...” I nod, scribbling the details on my paper. “Okay.”

“Light freckles around the muzzle, just below the eyes.”

“Light freckles. Got it...”

“Uhm... a blonde mane and tail...” I feel a sudden breeze in the room. Something shifts in my peripheral vision, and I realize that the mare is fanning herself with her own wing. “A thick... luscious blonde mane. In a simple red hair-tie. The same with her tail. Whoops.” She looked pointedly at me. “Those are accessories, aren't they?”

“Erm... yes, albeit small ones. They shouldn't be a problem. Any other accessories?”

“Yes... uhm... a brown Stetson.”

“You mean like a hat?”

“Mmmm... Yes.”

I blink at my notes, suddenly visualizing the doll in my head. Something strangely familiar emerges from the paper, and my nostrils tickle to the phantom smell of apples, hay, and warm country breezes. “… … … green buttons?”

“Huh?”

“For the eyes, I mean.”

“Oh, yes! I mean...” Fluttershy shrinks away from me all of the sudden. “How... h-how'd you know I'd want green eyes?”

It's my turn to gulp. “Just... just a hunch...” I smile at her. “Seems complementary, I suppose.”

“Oh, yes... y-yes... very complementary...”

“Any size preference?”

“Size?”

“For the doll, I mean.”

“Oh. Huggable.”

I chuckle lightly. “Miss Fluttershy, huggability is quite relative. What I mean to ask is—would you prefer small, medium, large? Maybe dog-sized?”

“Oh... uhm... bigger the better.”

“Okay.” I scribble on the sheet, dotting it at the end. “Totally doable.”

“Just... a nice... large... strong... dependable... honest pony to snuggle up to.” Fluttershy coos whimsically, trotting about in a dainty circle. Her chest and upper neck are flushed like a tomato. I swear, if she twirls like a princess, I'm going to dunk my own head in the nearest toilet. “To make me feel safe... secure... loved.” She stifles a whimper. “Especially when it's springtime and far too many frightening animal noises come out of the Everfree Forest behind my cottage at night. What I wouldn't give one time to... surrender to her sisterly embrace and just sleep in her scent forever...”

“Uhhh...” I blink her way. “'Her?'”

“Erm... 'it,' I suppose.” Fluttershy shivers again. “I'm talking about the plushie you're making, of course.”

“Of course.” I run a few numbers in my head and scribble a figure down onto the bottom right of the sheet. “So, about the price point—”

“Oh no!” Fluttershy suddenly gasps. “Oh my goodness!”

I jolt in place, hugging the pen and paper to my chest. “It's n-not a huge number, Miss Fluttershy! I promise you!”

“It's not that!” She yelps, pointing out the shop window at a bright bouncing shape. “Somepony's coming!”

“Uhhh... yeah? So?”

“I... I-I can't be seen here!” Fluttershy squeaks, all jittery and frazzled. She spins around, looking at every corner of my shop. “What'll my friends think? What'll she think?! If word gets to her... ohmygoodness! Ohmygoodnessgraciousmeeee!”

“Miss Fluttershy, calm down!” I wave a hoof at her. “There's nothing to be ashamed of! Whoever you're concerned about—”

“Quick! I must hide!”

I grimace visibly. “H-hide?!”

“Please!” She's squatting before me, pawing my chest and forelimbs. “You must hide me somewhere! I beg you!” She looks over her shoulder, then blanches. “Quickly! She's almost here!”

“Oh, for the love of—” I bite my tongue, turn about, and point at the first door I see. “There. My stockroom. You can hide in there.”

“Are you certain?”

“Do you wish to hide or don't you?”

“But, I'll be around all of your precious inventory of musical instruments and—”

“Miss Fluttershy...” I gently shove her towards the room, open the door, and usher her inside. “...I think we both know that you couldn't move a cymbal down a single city block even if you tried.”

“Oh thank you Miss Heartstri—”

I slam the door to the stockroom shut, twirl around, and adjust my mane once again. “Criminy...” I sigh, stumbling towards the door. “...at least things couldn't possibly get more annoying.”

With a jingling bell, a sugary pink mare bursts through the front door, grinning wildly my way. “Top of the morning to ya, greenflanks!”

I scuffle to a stop, blinking. My smile is as rigid as my voice sounds wafting through it. “Pinkie Pie... from Sugarcube Corner. What an honest pleasure.”

“Jee, what a swell place you've got here!” She zips around in a fuchsia blur. The discordant sounds of plucked strings, slapped drums, and flicked tuning forks echo against the shop's walls. “You've got a little of this, a little of that, and in the end it's like a fun factory for music making!” She pauses to shout down the large end of a tuba. “I AM YOUR FATHERRRR.” She winks my way. “Get it? That's a Stallion Wars joke.”

“Please...” I hobble towards her, weighted by my wincing expression. I recover in time to donate a crooked smile. “...don't test out the merchandise without asking for supervision first. Ahem.” I stand between her and the tuba. “Now, how can I help you pick out a musical instrument?” I raise an eyebrow. “Must be difficult to make a choice, seeing as you have so much already included in your 'one-mare-band.'”

“Actuallllllllly...” Pinkie's body spins three times and her head four. Somehow, she ends up facing me with an upside down grin. “...I heard you also make pony plush dolls on the side?”

My eyes twitch. “So I've been told.”

“Coolie Crispies!” She bounces repeatedly in place, which forces a seismic reverberation through her rambling speech: “I want mine to be blue like the sky with speedy-quick wings and shiny ruby eyes and a mane with every color of the rainbow—”

“Wait wait wait!” I scramble to tear another sheet of paper from the notepad on my desk and scribble the details onto the yellow'd lines. “Could you slow down a bit?! Blue like the sky. A pegasus. Red eyes—What kind of a mane? Color tones—?”

“—indigo like cupcake frosting! Blue like blueberry waffles! Green like mint sherbet!”

“Uhhh... uhmmm...” I wince, writing several words, then crossing through them and writing other words. “Right. I get it. A rainbow. A rainbow mane?”

“Yellow like lemon ice cream!” She hops and bounces, hops and bounces, hops: “Orange like... oranges! Heeheehee!”

“Miss Pie...”

“And red like raspberry! You can't forget the red! It matches her eyes! Say, do you think a speedster's eyes are really ruby-colored? Or is that just a matter of light distortion on account of perceived velocity variance and quantum redshift?”

“Miss Pie!” I bark... then take a few breathy seconds to compose myself. Straightening a loose bang or two, I stare calmly at the innocently blinking earth pony before me. “Let's just be simple about this for one second. Are you describing Rainbow Dash?”

“Hmmmm?” Pinkie Pie blinked. “Well of course I'm describing Dashie!”

“I just want to be clear about this.” I arch an eyebrow. “Ponyville's resident tomcolt and athletic weather flier? She's the one you want a plushie made out of, right?”

“Well, who wouldn't want a doll of Dashie, silly filly?!”

“I'm not questioning your desire to commission a custom plushie after Rainbow Dash, Miss Pie. I was simply wishing to clarify so that I might more properly—”

“She can ride on my back while I go on morning hops with Gummy!” Pinkie trots gaily around the room. “Then we'd go shopping for ice cream flavors together! And don't forget about trips to the bank! Bowling! Shuffleboard!”

“I'll... uh... be sure to put in extra stitching for durability,” I say. “But if you wish to go that route, then it'll cost a little bit extra—”

“Because the only thing more awesome than hanging out with the real deal is having a tiny bit of awesomeoness to carry around in one's pocket! Teeheeheeee! Well... it wouldn't really be more awesome... just a different kind of awesome. A super snuggly, super cute, super fuzzy awesome.”

“Right.” I say with a nod, scribbling onto my sheet. “Snuggly... fuzzy... I do believe I have the materials for that—”

“After all, the only thing more awesome would be snuggling with the real Dashie...” Pinkie sighs, her eyes sparkling as she gazes out the window. Her hot breath fogs the glass, and she licks it clean with a wet tongue. “Mmmm... Sharing stories of baking adventures... playing hide and go seek in our pajamas... talking about our future grandfoals...”

I almost drop the pen from my magic field. “Future... grandfoals...?”

“Oh shoot!” Pinkie Pie suddenly scoots backwards on her flank like a sick puppy. She leans away from the window in utter terror. “Oh mega shoot in a shoot sandwich with a side of shoot fries!”

“What is it now?”

“Somepony's coming! I can't risk it being Dashie! She might think I'm being a bad friend for wanting to hug and snuggle and nuzzle a tiny plush version of herself!”

“Do... you even hear yourself, Miss Pie?” I stammer. “Just relax! I'm sure it's—”

“I must hide!” She twirls about, sees the grand piano on display in the corner of my shop, and immediately dives into the heart of it. “Geronimoooo!”

“No, Pinkie!” I reach for her. “Don't—”

But it's too late. Someway, somehow, the mare's slipped in between the strings. Her pink hoof kicks the stand out from beneath the lid, shutting herself inside the enormous instrument entirely.

“—grkkk!” I face-hoof hard. “Blast it to Tartarus! I thought I told you to—”

The bell above the door jingles. “Good morniiiing!” an elegant voice chimes.

I crumple the note up and toss it somewhere safe. Spinning towards the front of the shop, I smile. “Hellllllo!” I feel my ears twitching atop my head. “Why, Miss Rarity! What do I owe the pleasure?”

“I do hope I'm not too terribly early,” the unicorn says, carrying a pair of fabulously glittering saddlebags along her soft flanks. “I know the sign outside indicates that business starts at ten o'clock sharp, but... well... it never hurts to be fashionably late.”

“No... uhh...” I glance behind me. The door to the stockroom remains shut. The grand piano lies perfectly still. “I suppose not.”

“Oh, where are my manners?” She curtsies before me, smiling sharply. “Miss Heartstrings, I presume.”

“Indeed.”

“I've heard a lot about you and your talents.” She raises a dainty hoof, cocking her soft head to the side. “Performing on stage before the Duke and Duchess of Mustangia. That's quite the thing to be proud of.”

“Oh... uh... absolutely...” I nod, gulping. “It was two years before their assassination too. Lucky gig.”

“Well... uhm... it's nice to know that you are employing your marvelous talents in more... humble pursuits.”

“If I may be so bold, Miss Rarity,” I say. “I don't think you came here simply to discuss career paths.”

“Quite right.” She tilts her head up, unfolding her left bag with a beam of telekinesis. “I would very much like to request your service in something.”

“Oh yes?” I ask, staring at her.

“And I would greatly appreciate your strict confidentiality in the matter.”

“Oh. Yes.” I say, glaring at her. “Allow me to presume: you want a pony doll made.”

“Why...” Rarity leans back, blinking with sudden pensiveness. “Yes. That's quite correct. But how on earth did you—?”

“Call it feminine intuition,” I say.

“Ah. But of course.” She laughs a nervous, airy laugh. “I can relate quite well.”

“I bet you can.” I rip yet another sheet of paper from my craftworking bench and start scribbling. “So... then... would you desire a particular coat color—?”

“Actually, I already have the material for that,” Rarity says.

I stare through the paper in her direction. “Oh... well... uhm... then perhaps a mane color—?”

“I do believe I have the material for that as well.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. And the tail and the wings...” Rarity pulls several shimmering spools out of her bags. She smiles proudly my way, a very elegant look. “This is pure star spider silk! Embroidered with gold, salmon, and mauve dyes! The absolute softest of woven materials.” She nuzzles her snow-white cheek against one stretch of yellow material. “Which is fittiiiiing... heeheehee...”

I tongue the inside of my cheeks. “Uh huh...” Clearing my throat, I lean back and squint her way. “Miss Rarity, if I may be so bold.”

“Mmmm...” She keeps drunkenly nuzzling her own provided textiles. “...you may.”

“You have the most splendid Boutique in all of Equestria!”

“Hmmm... I know.”

“My service as a doll-maker on the side can't possibly compare to your talent!”

“Heeeeee... I know. Oh! I-I-I mean...” She blushes furiously, avoiding my gaze. “That is... uhm... a m-matter of perspective. Surely, I have not... uhm... ever...” She coughs daintily, giving me a cockeyed glance. “What is the point of this inquiry, exactly?”

“Well... I-I mean, I'm humbled to be at your service, ma'am,” I say with a slight chuckle. “But couldn't you do as good a job if not considerably better with your own tools at home?”

“Well... no... y-yes... maybe!” she blurts, fidgeting a'plenty. I see the bangs of her mane splitting into frayed purple ends. “Point is, I... am... uhhhhmmm... foalsitting for my little sister this week! And... I-I wouldn't want her getting the wrong impression!”

“How so?”

“Why, if I made the doll I'm desiring with my little sibling around, then the poor confused dear might think it was meant for her! Not that I can blame her, really.” Rarity stares at the gold and pink textiles in her possession. Her eyes turn starry. “What pony wouldn't want to humor her inner filly by cuddling up to a creature so sweet... so divine... so soft and gentle and graceful and kind?” She resumes nuzzling again. “Heeeeee... I just know she loves belly rubs toooooo...”

I glare lethargically at the unicorn, then allow myself a quick side-glance of the stockroom door. “Ahem... Allow me to guess...” I lick the end of my pen with my tongue and resume scribbling on the sheet. “Turquoise eyes.”

“Like the rarest and most beautiful of gemstones—” Rarity's eyes bulge. “One second. How did you guess that I wanted—?” Her eyes catch a darting reflection in a pair of cymbals. “Good heavens! A pony is coming to your shop! I'm doomed!”

“Ugh... seriously?”

“Oh, what ever shall I do?! I... I-I can't be seen like this!” She huffs and puffs, pacing in a panicked little circle. “If ponies find out, they'll think I'm nothing but an obsessive compulsive stalker! A common charlatan of hedonism! And if she hears of it...” Her eyes instantly well up with tears. “...then she and I will never go to the spa agaaaa-aaa-aaainnn!” Her rambling morphs into a prolonged wail.

As the dark figure outside the shop looms closer, I can already hear myself sighing. “I don't suppose you would want to—”

“Hide! But of course! A fine idea!” She immediately darts for the stockroom—

“Maybe...” I gently grasp her shoulder and tilt her towards a tiny door with a pink frame. “...the store's restroom will do.”

“Oh. Yes. Capital plan.” She nod-nod-nods and marches swiftly into restroom. “And if anypony asks—the little filly's room is occupied!”

“Gotcha, Miss Rarity—”

“From here to eternity!” she hisses madly, then shuts and bolts the door behind her.

The front entrance's bell is jingling before I have a chance to groan. I turn, teetering about, and throw the best smile I can muster. “Welcome! Welcome! How can I be of service to...” I freeze in mid-speech.

It's a mare, alright, though one could hardly tell. All I see is a black robe, a black hood, and a series of blue feathers flapping through a pair of wingholes in the thick outfit's sides. There's an audible gulping sound, and the pegasus approaches me... bumping awkwardly into random musical instruments and jutting shelves—cussing quietly under her squeaky breath with each contact.

“Maybe if you took your hood off,” I mutter.

“Shhhhhh!” She hisses, hovering to an awkward stop in front of me. She fiddles and fumbles with her extra-long sleeves. I see a hint of blue hooves, and finally a note gets uncrumpled and hung in my face. “These are the colors and dimensions I want,” she utters in a dry voice.

“Let me guess...”

“For a doll,” she whispers, looking every-which way over each shoulder. Once the coast is clear, she leans in and murmurs even more quietly into my ear: “A pony plushie doll... about yay size and huggable.”

My eyes travel down the line of details. “Jee, this sure sounds like...” I briefly glance at the bathroom door to my side. “...a pale unicorn.”

“Hskkkkt!” She waves her loosely-sleeved forelimbs around. “Not so loud! I don't want anypony to know I'm here!”

With a sigh, I say, “Miss Dash, there's absolutely... positively no shame in wanting a plushie of another pony!”

“Huh? What?!” She throws her hood down, tosses her prismatic mane, and gawks at me in utter horror. “H-how did you know it was me?!” her voice cracks.

“From what I hear, you've got really good friends,” I say. “I'm sure they'll more than understand.”

“So... so...” The mare bites her lip, rubbing her hooves pensively together as a deep blush spreads across her muzzle. “...it's... p-perfectly okay to want to have a doll of one your best friends?”

“Without a doubt.”

“And it's totally fine if you want her to hold you close while cuddling on a sofa before an open fire while she rambles on and on about fashion and a bunch of other girly stuff?”

“Well... uhm...”

“All the while pretending that you're bored when in reality all you secretly want for her to do is dress you up in the frilliest of outfits and make baby noises at you and treat you like a princess?”

“That... it...” I gulp and shrug with a frazzled smile. “To each their own, I suppose!”

“Whew...” Rainbow Dash swipes the copious amounts of sweat from her brow and slumps limply in mid-air. “And here I thought all along I was just a pathetic pretender with an outrageously athletic persona desperate to deny her inner femininity—” She turns to gaze out the window, and immediately blanches. “Oh buck me with a chainsaw the size of Tirek! Of all the rotten luck?!”

“The hay...?!” I squint at a figure marching up to the front of the store. “Seriously! Chill down! What's with you ponies?! Is something in the water?!”

“Nopony can know I'm here!” Rainbow Dash collapses in the center of the shop, hyperventilating. “I'll be the laughing stock of all Ponyville! They'll paint over all of my trophies in bubblegum pink! They'll stick me as the friggin' Wonderbolts' cheerleader for life!”

“Hey... uh... 'don't ask, don't neigh,' am I r-right?” I laugh nervously.

“Quick!” She hops up and instantly zips towards the stockroom. “I gotta hide!”

“No! Not there!” I yank on her tail.

She soars towards the bathroom.

“Not there either—!” I yelp.

She makes a bee-line for the piano.

“Not the piano!” I all but suplex her towards the other end of the shop. “Uhhh... uhhh...” I hear the hoofsteps of the next pony approaching the front stoop of the building.

“Hey!” Rainbow gasps in relief. “A broom closet! Sweet!”

I teeter from the displaced air of her thunderous dive. “Yes... I... d-do believe the closet would be perfect for you. Ahem.”

She peeks out the door. “And remember—if anypony asks—I'm not here!” Thud! And with a rattle of dustpans, she's sealed inside.

“I wouldn't dream of it.” At the sound of jingling, I twirl about and face the front. “Hello, and how can I help you to day?”

She pauses on the front mat, politely wiping the mud and dirt off her hooves for a full minute. Then, she trots towards me, hauling two baskets of apples, chewing on a stalk of straw.

I stand in place, calmly waiting, until my mint figure reflects in her green eyes.

She scuffles to a stop, adjusts her brown hat, and plucks the straw from her teeth. “You fancy sewin' pony plushies on the side for bits?”

“Yes'm.”

“Reckon I can commission y'all?”

I pluck a sheet from the table and begin scribbling. “Coat?”

“Lavender.”

“Mane?”

“Violet with a purple streak.”

“Same with the tail?”

“Eeyup.”

“Horn?”

“Eeyup.”

“Wings?”

“Eeyup.”

“... … ...Alicorn?”

“Eeeeeyup.”

“Crown or no crown?”

“None, thanks.”

“And... lemme guess... purple eyes?”

“Eeyup.”

I finish taking notes, then look up at her. “That'll be eighteen bits.”

She reaches deep into a basket, pulls out a bit bag, and empties half of its contents into my magic field.

I pocket the coins away, get her signature, and lean back with a smile. “Done and done!”

“Thank ya kindly.” She tips her hat, turns around, and trots out, humming to herself.

The door jingles and closes shut.

I exhale, then turn to look at the broom closet.

Quietly, Rainbow Dash opens it and trots out. She stands in front of me, squirming slightly. “So... uhhh...”

“Price for a unicorn without accessories is twelve bits.”

“Right...” She fiddles about with her black robe, produces the bits, and hoofs it over to me. “How... uhhh...”

“Give it a week.”

“Right. A week. Cool. Awesome.” She flaps her wings, takes a deep breath, and throws her hood back over her mane. “So... uhhhh...” A lasting gulp, and she speedily zips out of the shop. “See ya!”

I turn towards the bathroom.

The door unlocks with a click. Blushing, Rarity stumbles out, already magically reaching into her saddlebag. “I... suppose twelve bits will do for a pegasus?”

“Yes'm.”

“There you go, darling.”

“It should be about a week.”

“I understand perfectly. Much appreciated.” She flicks her tail and makes a graceful exit. “Taa.”

Right as she leaves, I hear a clanging sound. A pink pink figure snakes her way out of the back of the grand piano and shuffles towards me. She takes one deep breath, shakes her mane, and spills gold coins all over the floor in a perfect circle. “Okie dokie lokie!” She bounces off, leaving the store in a blur.

With a slight groan, I lean down to scoop up the bits. By the time I've collected them all, Fluttershy has emerged from the stockroom like a fragile butterfly.

She looks at me.

I look at her.

She smiles bashfully, grabs a hooffull of coins, and leaves them on top of her order like a paperweight. She's gone before I can even give her change.

At last, all is still. All is quiet.

With steady breaths, I trot to the middle of the shop, roll up the orange carpet, and reveal a hidden wooden door to the basement below. I slap my hoof against the frame three times, then speak loudly: “It's alright, Your Highness! The coast is clear! You can come out now!”

FL-FLASH! With a spark of lavender magic, Princess Twilight Sparkle teleports to the first floor of the shop. She lands beside me, shaking her mane straight.

“Whew! Wow... talk about a crowd!” She turns toward me, smiling bashfully. “I heard so many hoofsteps and muffled voices right above me! Who knew you'd get so much business on a Tuesday morning?!”

“I know,” I drone. “It was a surprise to me too.”

“So... uhm... just so we're clear...” She hunches into a foalish squat, her ears folding back. “...you h-have the dimensions I asked for, right?”

“Yes.” I fish around my workbench, finally unpeeling the hidden note from beneath two hastily stacked books. “Ahem... 'Pink mane. Pink coat. Bright blue eyes. Fluffy tail. Extra, extra fluffy.'”

“It's just... it makes me so happy to be around her,” the Princess coos, her lavender cheeks growing redder and redder. “She really brightens up my day. And the new Castle is so vast and empty. Having her around... m-more or less to snuggle after dark... well... it'll really brighten up my night. Eheheheh...” She looks at me with puppy dog eyes. “Do you think that's... odd?”

“In all honesty, Your Majesty?” I give her a tired grin. “At this rate, it'd be strange if it wasn't the case.”

“Oh. Good. Good good good.” Twilight exhaled, her muscles relaxing, even causing her tail to droop in relief. “I don't feel so bad then.”

“Twilight.”

She looks at me.

I smile. “You shouldn't have to feel so bad about wanting to feel good.”

“... … ...” She blinks at me. Gradually, her lips curve. “Yes. I... I-I'll remember that.” She leans in and gives me a hug. “Thank you, Miss Heartstrings.”

I squirm slightly, not expecting the embrace... but not exactly hating it either. “It's a pleasure, Your Majesty.”

“So... then...” She leans back. “What do I owe you?”

“Nnnngh... please...” I exhale. “It's on the house.”

“Oh no! No no no no no I insist—”

“Please, Your Highness.” I have to fight not to moan. “The only payment I need is for you to go home happy.”

“But... b-but I...”

“Go home.”

“Right! Going!” She trots out with a happy bounce. “Oh... and... I'll refer you!”

“Uh huh...” I wave.

And just like that, she's gone.

And I still need that cup of coffee.

“Mmmmfff...” I gather all of my freshly scribbled notes together and put them in a neat little stack in the corner of my table. “Freakin'... guh... gotta clear my itinerary for half the week. Reschedule harp lessons with the second graders. Celestia, the recital... mmmfff... somehow I can make this work...”

My mind gallops in circles as I brew myself a fresh cup of coffee. By the time the machine finishes percolating and pours into a mug, I hear a knock on the door. I'm too engulfed in the sweet smell of coffee beans to register what it means.

“The store's open! You can come right in!”

The bell jingles slightly, and a tiny purple figure appears in my peripheral.

“Uhm... Miss... M-Miss Heartstrings?”

I glance over. “Oh! Uhhh... Spike is it?” I float the coffee mug and blow away some of the steam. “Nice seeing you again!”

“Yes... I... uh...” He waddles into the middle of the shop, wringing his claws together in a bashful manner. “I wanted to thank you again for the doll you made me.”

“Mmmm... yes...” I smirk slightly, trotting over to adjust the grand piano that Pinkie Pie had hopped into beforehand. “I do hope you're happy with it.”

“Oh! I am! All those bits I saved up were totally worth it! Your hoof-stitching is amazing!”

“Why thank you!”

“I may have... referred you to a few ponies.”

“Why...” My nostrils flare as I bring the mug to my lips. “...thank you.”

“But... there's just one teeny tiny thing about my unicorn doll...”

“Something the matter with it?” I take a sip.

“Well, no. It's so beautiful and s-soft and... cuddly. Ahem... I was just wondering if you could make one little adjustment.”

“Mmmm?”

He blushed. “...Do your dolls come in waterproof coats?”

I spit the coffee out in a monsoon.