Dead Bodies, and Other Inappropriate First Dates
Nightwhisper stared down at the body, breathing heavily out of his mouth. "Well. This is... awkward, isn't it?"
"Is it?" I asked sarcastically. "I didn't think things could be awkward between two ponies who met three minutes ago."
He shrugged. "Whatever. Look, if they want to bring you in for questioning, just tell them you heard three shots, but you didn't see anything."
"Am I involved in this now? I don't want to be, let me make that clear," I said.
"You won't need to get involved if you just say what I told you!" He was tense, just trying to make a good decision regarding my presence. "You wanna go for lunch?"
"Excuse me?"
Nightwhisper cleared his throat, staring down at the asphalt under his hooves. "I need to relax. This was a stressful day before the murder, and now I just need to... take a breather. Maybe talk to somepony?"
"Um..." I glanced around. "Well, I need to get back to the shop. There's no way Sugar can run it by herself..."
"Was she the one who drenched me with coffee?"
I sighed. "She's my younger sister. She's still in high school, just interning."
Nightwhisper chuckled. "You're interning a sibling? That must be hell."
I laughed, too. "She means well."
We laughed for a while, slowly fading. Two EMT's pushed past us with a stretcher.
Nightwhisper grimaced. "It's awkward again."
"Yup."
He stood there for a minute, then nodded curtly to me. He trotted off, disappearing into the crowd of onlookers.
"Hey! Wait!" I yelled, breaking into a gallop. I chased him down, meeting him on the corner. "Where are you going?"
"Not sure. Probably a drug store. I'll pick up a frozen burrito."
I tried not to laugh at how pathetic that sounded. "Well, don't you want to get a real lunch? Several food groups, not out of a plastic package?"
He stopped. "If you're up to it."
"Sure thing. Sugar can handle it." I stepped up to his side.
He arched an eyebrow.
"We never get customers. You were the first in... many weeks," I murmured sadly.
"That's too bad," Nightwhisper remarked, starting down the street towards a flashing 'diner' sign.
I followed. "Well, what're you gonna do. We can't afford to advertise, and, even if we could, how many ponies really want to build a large scale project from scratch?"
"What else do you like to do? There must be something you can do on the side," Nightwhisper suggested.
"Non-useful things, that's what. Acting, writing, sketching. Dumb stuff like that." I shrugged.
"Wow. You do... all of that?" He sounded shocked.
"Um... yeah. So what?"
"That's... well, that's... that's kind of amazing."
I laughed it off, feeling my cheeks growing hot. "N-not really. I'm not very good at any of it."
Nightwhisper pushed open the door to the diner, a tiny bell tinkling above his head. A mare approached him, asking the basic questions like 'how many in your party?' and 'booth, table, or bar?'
We took our seats on the tall stools at the bar, and Nightwhisper glanced down at my flank. "Well, what about your cutie mark?" His voice was considerably softer now that we were off the loud streets.
I winced internally, my mouth twitching into a smile for a fraction of a second. I hated when ponies asked about my cutie mark. I looked down at it, myself, staring at the compass in a field of dark blue.
I cleared my throat. "I don't know."
"What do you mean?" Nightwhisper asked, confused.
"I just... woke up one morning, and it was there. I don't know what it means," I said softly, not wanting anypony but Nightwhisper to hear my confession.
He seemed about to reply, but the soda jerk approached us. "Can I start you two off with some drinks?" he asked cheerfully.
"Could I got a coffee? Black?" Nightwhisper asked.
"Sure thing!"
"Um... cherry soda?"
"You got it! Back in a jiff!" He trotted off, preparing our orders.
Nightwhisper opened his mouth once more to ask about my cutie mark, but I cut him off.
"What about yours, then?" I gestured to his flank, which displaying a black knight chess piece.
"Strategy," he said simply. "It's an asset in police work, you know? Analyze surroundings, make good decisions..."
I nodded. "Do ponies really call you 'Nightwhisper' all the time?"
He furrowed his eyebrows. "Erm..."
"I mean, it's long... but 'Night' and 'Whisper' on their own sound... weird. What else do ponies call you?" I explained, repeating my question.
He shrugged. "My call sign is 'Hawk 3,' " he stated.
"Call sign?" I repeated.
"It's how they refer to me over the radio." He tapped the black thing strapped to his side.
"Hm. That's pretty good. 'Hawk.' " I smiled. "I like it!"
"What about you? You go by Thunder?" he asked.
"Yup. Boring, plain, and simple."
"It's nice. Powerful. You struck me as a... powerful pony."
I blushed. "It's the sarcasm. It's a... bad habit of mine. I'm overly hostile to ponies I don't know... I have no idea why I do it."
"I can guess."
The soda jerk dropped off our drinks.
I stared at Nightwhisper. "Yeah?"
"It's that cutie mark. You're ashamed of it." He took a sip of his coffee.
I opened my mouth to protest, but realized that he was right.
"You're hostile and snappy because you don't want anypony getting chummy. You're warding off any possible sources of humiliation."
I grimaced. I know I shouldn't have, but I felt myself growing angry towards Nightwhipser. He was... prying. Prying into the private life that I shared only with my sister. Why had I felt that it was okay to talk about this to him?
I unwrapped a straw and stuck it into my drink, sipping slowly at the sweet, fizzy liquid.
"Why'd you ask me here?" I finally spat at him.
" 'Cause you seemed nice. And curious. And you weren't afraid of the police stuff. Do you know how many ponies I meet who faint at the thought of dead bodies?" He chuckled, hanging his head. "And you walked right up and had a conversation over top of one."
"Wait a minute. This is a date, isn't it?"
He sighed. "Pretty crappy date, huh?"
I nodded. "I think calling your date 'hostile' and 'snappy' was a mistake, yeah."
He sighed again, resting his forehead on the counter. "Yeah. Sarcasm is your bad habit, brutal honesty is mine."
I chuckled. "Well, not as bad as they come."
He laughed a bit, too. "I suppose. Though it gets me in trouble sometimes. It's a good quality for a cop..."
I smiled, putting a hoof on his shoulder. "No biggie."
"You know, you shouldn't be embarrassed of that cutie mark story. I mean, think about it: you could be good at anything, anything at all. Your talent could lie in a million different things. You aren't restricted, like the rest of us."
I looked at him. He smarter than he seemed, deeper, too. "I guess."
"Maybe you're more special than you know."
I tapped the counter rhythmically. "Maybe..."
I leaned back into the leather chair, and it hissed through a hole in the side. I hooked my hoof around one of the spokes and pushed, letting the seat spin itself out. How long did it take to get coffee, anyway? The shop was two stores down.
I opened the filing cabinet, knowing that Sugar liked to hide comic books and sketches among the papers. I had just found an interesting one titled 'Day of the Dead' when the bell over the door tinkled.
I quickly stuffed the comic back into the drawer and slammed it shut. "Hello! Fillydelphia Contractors and Co., how can we be of service?" I blurted.
"Um... hi. You guys do repairs and stuff, right?"
I looked up at the stallion before me. He was tall and kind of skinny, with a puff of red-orange hair shooting out of his grey head. I could just see the tip of his horn poking out of the mess, and his deep brown eyes stared at me inquisitively. He had the shadow of a red mustache on his upper lip, but it was so faint that I couldn't be sure it was there.
"Well... we mostly do things from scratch..." I murmured, not wanting to offend him or turn him away. "You know, contracting. That's blueprints and things?"
"Oh. I just-- well, I have this bookshelf with dry rot, and I figured--"
"We could design you a new one. But, that's it, I'm afraid..." I smiled a bit, trying to soften the blow.
He sighed, shuffling his hooves. "Well, thanks anyway." He turned to leave, but then seemed to remember something. "Hey! Do you know if there's a furniture shop nearby?"
"Sure, it's just--" I stood up, trying to point him towards his destination, when I spotted the dusty pink mane of a familiar mare bouncing through the crowds. "Oh, jeez..."
The bell tinkled again as none other than Sugar Sprinkles pushed through the door, holding a cup carrier with two coffees. She gasped, dropping them. "Ohmigosh a CUSTOMER!" She looked down, seeing the coffee and whipped cream running down the stallion's chest. "Oops... was that me?"
"I-it's okay, I'll just--" He reached over and grabbed a few tissues, trying to soak up the mess. "Um..."
Sugar stood there, virtually dead inside.
"I'll get it!" I stepped in, using another hoofful of tissues on his chest in an attempt to clean up the mess my sister had made. Boy, if that phrase doesn't sum up my life, I don't know how else to describe it.
"Do you have a restroom?" he murmured, more than a little embarrassed, as was I.
Suddenly, Sugar was awake. "I know where it is! I mean, I-I work here... so..."
I rolled my eyes. She led him behind the counter, taking him through the maze of cubicles.
I stood there for a moment, then realized that I was holding tissues soaked with coffee. I quickly held them over the trash before any more could drip on the counter top, then set a vase over the spill. Sugar would have to deal with that later.
"He's funny!" Speak of the devil...
"Is he? Well, I didn't get to speak with him for more than a minute before you dumped piping hot coffee all over him!" I spat back.
Sugar gasped again, this time dramatic and drawn out. "Do you like him?"
I stuttered in utter disbelief. "I don't even know his name! What is wrong with you?"
Sugar giggled. "You should ask him."
I jabbed a hoof back towards the cubicles. "Would you get back to work?"
She shrugged, but turned and headed back to her office space.
I sighed, willing myself not to let steam come pouring out of my ears. If I treated him nice, he might come back when he did need something.
"Now..." the voice came from behind me. "Where was that furniture shop?"
I whirled about to face the stallion, whose coat looked sticky, but at least not dripping wet. I cleared my throat, cautious in taking my sister's advice. "I'm sorry... I don't think I ever caught your name."
"It's--" The stallion began, cut off be a loud bang. This was quickly followed by two more just like it, which bounced off the tall buildings.
"Oh, for Celestia's sake!" I yelled, weaving around the front desk to peer out the window. "What the buck is it now?!"
The stallion was right beside me, straining to look down the street. "Oh my god..."
"What?" I could barely see what was going on.
"I gotta go." The stallion made for the door
"Wait!" I followed him, skittering through the door a galloping after him. "I-I didn't get your name yet!"
He spun, changing his gait to a smooth backwards trot. "Officer Nightwhisper, FPD, Homicide Division." He turned back, kicking up the pace.
"You're a policecolt?!" I called, continuing to chase him.
"Yes! Got a problem with that?" He yelled back.
I shook my head, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Something clicked. "Wait, are you saying those were gunshots?!"
He skidded to a halt, pulling a badge out of nowhere. He muttered something to the other ponies around him, flashing the badge as he wove his way through the crowd. He made some kind of gesture back at me a few times, and received hesitant nods from several ponies.
I came to a stop, looking right in the faces of two more officers. "Uh..."
"Go on," grumbled the first.
"Excuse me?" I said between pants.
"You're a witness," the second one explained through a pink-iced doughnut. "Go on, you're allowed."
I didn't ask questions, but pushed my way through the rest of the crowd after Nightwhisper. I caught a quick glimpse of his tail and called his name. He didn't seem to hear me.
Soon enough, I heard his voice calling for more space. The crowd thinned, most giving up and leaving while the others back off a few steps. The grey unicorn was bent over a crumpled body along with a few other uniformed officers. He stood up, scanning the crowd, and saw me standing a few feet closer to the center than everypony else. He saw me, waving me closer.
When I was only a few inches away, he murmured. "Didn't catch your name, either. And something tells me that this isn't the last we'll see of each other."
I must have looked a bit confused, but I answered, "It's Thunder Chaser. Nice to meet you."
