Dirt! Dirt dirt dirt! It was everywhere! On her hooves, what remained of her clothes, in her mane and tail! Oh, her poor tail! Gone was the elegant curl and in its place little more than a dirt covered mess of hairs that would put Applejack to shame. Tears threatened to leak from her eyes only to be quickly blinked away. There was nothing to be done about it. She’d made her bed, and she would sleep in it... no matter how dirty it might be.
She crowded against the wall of some building or another, the store's sign hidden from view, with the remains of her favorite cloak—more a cape really, it was a grape affair with a high color—wrapped around her providing paltry protection from the grit and grime of the city. The street itself was much more modern than those in Ponyville, or even Canterlot for that matter. Gas lamps lined the sidewalks, at least three to a block, and there was never a lack of ponies moving up and down in wagons and chariots or simply trotting for those not rich enough to afford the former.
She had nothing.
There hadn’t been enough time to gather her savings before she fled. In her rush she’d only been able to pack so much, and in no time she had lost it all. The pawnshops had given her pittance for her jewelry and food was so expensive in the city. In all the world she had not but the cloak on her back with a single reassuring weight hidden within.
Even if it meant starving to death on these—uhg—filthy streets, she would never let that gem from her possession. Already, she’d been forced to sell the gold necklace in which it had been mounted. Those two hundred bits hadn't lasted, foalishly spent on a hotel room she'd known she couldn't afford.
Food, that's what she needed. Her last meal had been three days ago. Back in Ponyville she’d put a great deal of effort into maintaining her figure, only pegasi could pull off the sleek muscled look. Even so, she could already see her hips starting to shrink.
The shadow of a passing pony fell over her, and Rarity cowered back, cringing in expectation of another round of nasty words to be flung her way. She hated Manehattan.
Seconds passed without change. The stranger silent and unmoving. Curiosity got the better of her, and Rarity let the tattered edge of her cape fall.
Before her stood a charcoal grey stallion, had the light been a little worse she would have called him black. His mane, however, was pitch as the darkest night and framed his not unattractive muzzle. Emerald eyes seemed to glow within the dark recesses of his face. A smirk revealed the only glaring flaw she could find in him. His teeth were heavily stained by either coffee or tobacco, based on the smell, she guessed at the latter.
He watched her for a time, his eyes tracing the curves of her body. Rarity shivered under the scrutiny, feeling dirtier by the second. Just as she opened her mouth to chastise him, he spoke up.
“Hello, Doll.” Rarity blinked, her cheeks flaming with indignation. The stallion continued before she could protest, “How would you like to make some bits?”
“How dare you!” she shouted, rolling to her hooves and bearing down on the ruffian. “I’ll have you know that ‘I’ am a Lady! Not some hussy you can proposition off the street! I fail to see what is so amusing!”
The stallion, whose smile had only grown into a chuckle at Rarity’s outburst, sat back on his haunches and began clapping. Rarity’s frown deepened until it was a full on scowl.
“Bravo, bravo! I wasn’t expecting a full audition! Hah! You’ve got the job, Doll.”
Rarity’s teeth ground together and she let out a very unladylike snarl.
The stallion completely failed to care. Instead, he stood back up and turned, trotting up the street. “Well, come on, we haven’t got all night. We’ll get you something to eat while we go over the details.” He glanced back and added, “And we’ll need to go shopping, that... cape will never do.”
Rarity started to protest, only for her stomach to betray her. There was a point, she decided, when a pony had to set aside their pride and accept any hoof offered. As much as she already disliked this stallion, she liked the idea of starving in a gutter even less.
==OCaT==
Chase watched the unicorn mare opposite him in what could only be described as awe. "How are you doing that?"
She paused and, lifting a napkin to hide her lips, asked, "Pardon?"
"How are you eating like a deranged griffin," he waved a hoof through the air, "without eating like a deranged griffin."
A coy smile was all the response he received before she returned to her meal. Dropping the subject, Chase sipped at his coffee and waited for her eat her fill.
The moment he’d laid eyes on the mare he’d known that she was hungry, but this was ridiculous. Three salads later and she had yet to show any signs of being finished. His eyes flicked to the clock on the wall, he had time still, as long as she wasn’t too picky about the dress.
The diner was one of his favorites. He wouldn’t go so far as to say the food was ‘good’, but it more than made up for it by being so out of the way that he never had to worry about unwanted attention. This time of night they were the only ponies save the waitress and the cook, neither of which were anywhere close to earshot.
Stumbling upon her had been a stroke of pure luck, or fate—he hadn't decided which yet. He wasn’t sure what about her had first caught his eye and made him stop, there were a number of possibilities. Looking at her now, he could see the ghost of refinement. By the way her mane and tail fell he could tell that they normally saw regular, heavy maintenance.
The real question was how she’d respond to his request. Depending on the situation surrounding her apparent fall from grace, she could be perfect or perfectly useless.
Chase waited until she’d cleared her plate before speaking up again; or he would have if she hadn’t beat him to the quick. “Thank you terribly for that meal, I was simply famished. Now, I think introductions are in order. My name is R— er, Illustrious.”
Chase smiled, but otherwise ignored the slip; he didn’t particularly care who she was, as long as she did what she was told. He reached a hoof across the table. “It’s a pleasure, Doll. You can call me Chase.”
‘Illustrious’ frowned and hesitated before meeting his gesture. “Charmed, I’m sure.”
“Tell me something, Miss Illustrious,” he said before she could interrupt him again. “What do you know about the Manehattan elite?”
