The Tip

"How did you find me this time?"

Spitfire trotted out of a brick walked store with a sign above the door. The sign, once brightly colored, was faded and its paint was chipping. The language written in it was not Equish, but the griffin holding a mug of cider made one make a usually correct assumption on what the store was for.

Soarin trailed behind her with a cocky smile. He slipped right past the closing door and cantered up to his friend.

"It isn't very difficult. You are not a ninja. That would be awesome though. Do you happen to have a katana?" Soarin chuckled to himself.

"No, I don't. And I would never give you one. I do value my life." Spitfire strolled towards the parking lot, partially spreading a song to keep the familiar silver case on her back.

"Oh, I'm sure you have one. Somewhere. It's just waiting to be uncovered from your hidden basment." the duo approached the Blueberry. Spitfire looked at the hood of the car, and explained it to see every detail. "How excited are you to finally quit the pharmaceuticals business?"

She rose her head, rolling her eyes at him. "I'm not quitting my job."

"C'mon Spitty! We have something much awesomer to do now!" Soarin pleaded, resting a hoof on the car.

Spitfire smacked his hoof off the car. The hoof scraped over until Soarin firmly planted it in the ground. Spitfire frowned over the scrape that removed a bit of the paint. "One, awesomer isn't a word. Two, no."

"You make such compelling arguements." the stallion said before opening the passenger side door. As he plopped down on the seat, he said, "Picasso would be proud."

Spitfire's more wrinkled in confusion. "I don't think Picasso--Never mind." the orange mare eat on her own dear, starting up the Blueberry. She smiled at the satisfying purr of the engine. "What do you want?"

"I need to follow somepony."

"Use your motercycle, dingus." Spitfire deadpanned.

"Great idea, they can watch me every step of the way. C'mon Spitty, I thought you could figure that out." Soarin took a sip of coffee from the cup he had earlier, neither pony knowing how it got there.

"Do you think that is my problem? Hint, hint, it's not. I'm sick of your shennangians, and will no longer have any part in this train wreck. She reversed o it of her door, and carried on down to the street. "The coroner's report said that they were dear long before we arrived at the cabin."

"Are! You are still tracking the case! How else would you know that?" Soarin gossipy snakes her shoulder at the end of his sentence.

Spitfire rolled her eyes

He sighed in exasperation. "C'mon Spitty, were so close! Just a few more loose ends to tie up and, if my hunch is correct, the truth would be released!"

She merely glanced at him as she turned sharply up another street.

"I will by you as many tacos as you want." Spitfire raised an eyebrow. Soarin relented, and made an adjustment to his offer. "At the new place you like downtown."

Spitfire glanced back at him, then swerved to the right. "Deal."

Soarin sighed in relief and adjusted his seat till it was nearly horizontal. He idly wished the Blueberry had a sunroof. "Where are we going anyway?"

Without hesitation, Spitfire answered. "The bank."

"Why?"

"Cause you don't have nearly enough bits on you for my dinner."

About fifteen minutes After their bank trip, they drove through the market section of town, passing an older stallion angrily lecturing about, "When life gives you lemons."

Soarin rummaged about a box he found in the backseat. The back of his own seat was raised back to normal after a scold from Spitfire. He pulled out a neon orange shirt, holding it up with both hooves. "What is this?"

"A shirt the company gave us. I have to wear it when I meet the sponsors." The mare scratched her cheek.

"It says, "Drugs!" in huge letters with happy pill bottles dancing around it."

"It's better than the ones that had Meds written on them in Comic Sans."

"Why would some--how does--Why!?" Soarin tossed the shirt back down in the box. He set the box on the backseat floorboards.

"I dunno." She looked to him curiously. "Why would I?"

"You work there." he said simply.

"Ok then." Spitfire's face hardened. "Soarin logic. Never to be understood."

After a few seconds of silence, Soarin instructed her to take a left.

I need to burn that shirt. For the sake of Ponydom. Not because I feel like having a nightmare when so look at it for too long.

Driving up one of the paved, curving streets around Water's Tiles, Soarin pulled out his binoculars, the phrase, "Pink Panties" still proudly emblazoned on the sides.

"Why are we here?" Spitfire hesitantly asked. Not getting an answer, she asked another question. "What is the magnification of those?"

"It said 2X on the box." Soarin lifted the off his face an tapped the side.

"You need to got to Walmare of the way home." she turned the engine off but left the keys in the ignition.

"Ooh, There she is!" Soarin exclaimed, bringing the small optical instrument up to his face.

Spitfire's eye twitched. Her face scrunched up and she glared at Soarin. "Oh hell no. I did not drove all over the countryside for you to stalk Mr. Waters daughter!"

Soarin, oblivious to his friend's rant, leered through the binoculars. "What's he doing here?" Through the them, he saw a chunky stallion looking about nervously with Spitfire Waters his side. "What's up with his hair? It's terrible. Does he not own shampoo?" Soarin pondered for a moment. "I knew I should have taken him in for questioning." The stallion nodded to Wildfire before cantering off.

Wildfire, now on her own, looked warily around her, picking up a large, black duffle bag in her mouth.

Why does she look so nervous?

Soarin examined the bag as closely as one could with crummy binoculars.

"Oh dear. Is it me, or does that bag look like it's filled to the brim with random money?"

He passed the binoculars off to Spifire, who's eyes widened at the sight. "Sweet Celestia. It was her." Spitfire returned the binoculars before looking him straight in the eyes. "You're dating a murderer."

"Not exclusively."

"Wow." Spitfire laughed, and continued as she followed Wildfire through the streets. "I knew there was a reason she went for you so easily!"

"Wildfire." Soarin whined, shaking his head. He sighed. "She wasn't lying to me Spitty. I know when ponies lie."

Spitfire snorted and smirked at him. "Apparently not. You got played." she began to chuckle again.

She cleared her throat and smiles innocently at him. "I'm sorry. This is the happiest I've felt in awhile. It feels good to be on this side of it."

Maybe the demon shirt put you in a "happy" mood.

Wildfire finally stopped in a back alley skilled with trash, mostly consisting of ruined clothes and other fabrics. A hefty stallion opened the back door to a store, walking out and greeting her.

"You could always pretend that you had a vision of being minupulated." Spitfire suggested smugly.

"You could always shut up." Soarin growled under his breath. He stopped lie in his seat and watched the two outside. He smacked her side and gestures for her to look out the window.

"What do we do?"

Soarin rubbed his forehooves together. "There is only one thing we can do." He stared a moment longer before unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the car door. He ignored Spitfire's exclanation and crept forward.

Soarin's eyes locked in the black bag. After bobbing his head, he lunged over the trashcans in front of him and sidestepped a pole. He sprinted forward, making very audible noise as he galloped toward the two talking equines. He leaped over a heap of broken metal and wood before snatching the duffle bag in his mouth. He barely registered Wildfire's cry of protest when he made a sharp U turn, heading back for the Blueberry.

"Ha!"

Soarin looked through a cracked mirror to see both ponies giving a chase.

His brief distraction lead to him running straight into Spitfire who almost lost her footing.

Soarin eyeballed her before exclaiming, "You were supposed to stay in the car!" he muttered through the strap in his mouth. He galloped over to the car and used the handle, but the door wouldn't open. "You locked the car?!"

"It's a bad neighborhood." She calmly replied.

Wildfire and the stallion rounded the bend.

Wildfire skidded to a halt. "What is going on, Soarin?" she demanded.

Spitting out the strap and tucking the bag to his chest, he looked at Spitfire before addressing her. "I know what's in the bag."

Her head jerked back in surprise and confusion. "You do?"

"Yes. I didn't think about the sole heir to the Waters' fortune if Lightning was out of the picture."

The stallion wearing the blue uniform took a step towards him, but was held back by Wildfire's hoof. "You think I want my family's money?"

Soarin tilted his head, but his gaze never left her own. "I guess you don't really need it, do you." He began to smile devilishly and unzipped the bag. "Not when you have this money!" he reached into the bag and yanked out its contents, her laundry. A pure white scarf fell to the ground.

Soarin eyes ogled the clothes draped on his hoof.

Spitfire's hoof hit her face.

The stallion cracked his neck side to side.

"Really?"