The Introduction of Barnstormer (Working Title)

        Barnstormer settled into a chair at the kitchen table of the Apple's farmhouse as Applejack and Applebloom retrieved mugs and plates while Big Mac went to the cellar to procure a keg of the family's famous cider.  A quizzical glance from him was ignored, or perhaps simply unnoticed, by the two sisters.  Barnstormer's confusion grew when, after setting her burden on the table, Applejack turned to retrieve a platter of apple fritters while her sister took what he assumed was her usual place at the table and Big Mac returned from the cellar.

Setting the tray of sweets down, Applejack chuckled,“Yer lucky Granny Smith's not here or she'd thump ya right good for stealing her spot.  She can be a bit particular 'bout manners 'n such.”  Barnstormer couldn't hide a sheepish grin as Big Mac took his place at the table and promised to remember for the next time.

Needing to sate his curiosity, he asked, “I'd thought it was just a mug of cider,” raising an eyebrow towards the plate of cakes.

“'Taint nothin', sugarcube.  We take care of our own here in Ponyville.  Right, Apples?” looking towards her siblings, they each responded enthusiastically, Big Mac with the never changing 'Eeeyup' and a large smile, Applebloom with a simple beaming smile.  “See?” the elder sister concluded.

“Well...alright then,” slightly uncomfortable with the familiarity of the endearment, he continued,  “Can't say no to hospitality like that, can I?” He snorted amusedly, taking a fritter and letting his mug be filled to the brim with drink.

They made small talk for a time, grazing away at the snacks the family had brought out.  Barnstormer couldn't help but notice the increasing number of poorly hidden glances at his cutie mark that Applebloom was making.  One was so obvious that even her sister, sitting next to her, couldn't help but notice.  Both sisters thought he missed the light kick under the table that Applejack tried to hide by scooting her chair closer to the table.

Attempting to change the subject slightly, if only to partially sate Applebloom's curiosity, Applejack asked, “Ah know a pegasus, a real good flier, just like you, but even as daring as she is Ah've never seen her try something like what you did.  And she made it to the Wonderbolt Reserves!  Ah think you're going have to explain to me...well...why?”

“Why be so reckless?”  he inquired.   At her nod, he continued, “Well, when you go through something that by all rights should have left you dead as a doornail, you tend to look at life a bit differently.”  At everypony's alarmed and confused looks, he finished, “Same story as how I got my cutie mark.”

Hearing that revelation, Applebloom's face went slack, expressing nothing.  Barnstormer would have sworn that had she been alone at the table she would have flipped it end over end.  Finally unable to contain a short laugh and momentarily enjoying jerking the farmers around, he reassured the filly, “I don't mind.  If you want to know, all you have to do is ask.”  Cutting Applejack's protest short, he added “Really.  I love telling the story.  No one ever believes it at first.”  Seeing the mischievous glee in Barnstormer's eyes, she acquiesced.

Turning to face Applebloom again, he started “Alright, so what do you-”

He was cut short by the youngster's oubturst of “It's so unique I've never seen a cutie mark like that before how old were ya when ya got it what kind of plane is that how did ya get it and why is it that kind of plane specifically are ya the best at flying that kind or is it something else and why won't we believe how ya got it and how did you almost die oh yeah and why were ya such a late bloomer that parts important I need to know tell me tell me tell me,” each word coming out faster and louder and running into each other until the thunderstruck pegasus could hardly keep track of all the questions.

Before he could reply, Applejack apologized, “Sorry about that, our Applebloom is just a might bit obsessed with getting her own cutie mark.  The shenanigans she and her friends get up to sometimes, let me tell you...” Though her tone was less than pleased, Barnstormer noticed the fondness in the look directed at the filly.

“I am not obsessed,” Applebloom protested, crossing her arms and affecting an air of grumpiness.

The hell you're not, Barnstormer thought. But, everyone's obsessed with something.  Cutie marks alone are evidence enough of that, he laughed to himself.  Settling more comfortably into his chair, he said aloud, “No worries, as I said, it's a story I love telling.  Sometimes I don't even believe it myself.”

Scooting closer to the table and settling in for the telling, the Apples listened as Barnstormer started, “Well, it was on the day of my final carrier qualifications-that's a practical exam they have, see, we have to land on the carrier in all these different weather conditions...”

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