The early morning sunrise had cast dark shadows across the town while birds sang to welcome the day. Scroot groggily punched the power switch of his coffee pot while looking over the messy office. Files were still laid out on the table and the front door had been wired shut with twine. He went back to the bedroom and thought; it’s too early to deal with that bullshit.

He opened his dresser and laid out one of nearly a hundred of his black ties. They were barely discernible from one another, but each tie had its own hoof stitched design hidden in the dark color. He held it down on the end-table with a hoof as if it was going to escape, and he folded it expertly into his famous Eldredge knot. It was an exercise that his wife had given him when he was a police officer. She told him that if he was unable to tie the knot before shift, he wasn't mentally sharp enough to go out and contest with criminals.

He slipped the tie over his head, flattened it under his collar, and then took it in his teeth to tighten it. The coffee maker gurgled as the final drips of the black liquid disturbed the vessel's contents while Scroot made his way back out into the main office. He pulled one of dozens of stark white ceramic coffee mugs from the cabinet below the coffee maker and poured the strong drink into his cup. He glanced at the plastic sandwich boat that he'd taken home from the Ponyville Café and that he left next to his coffee brewer. It was filled with packets of cream and sugar, but they had remained untouched for several years. He thought to himself, I'll throw it out tomorrow, much in the same way as the previous day, and the day before that, et cetera.

Movement in the window next to the front door caught Scroot's eye, and he looked up mid-sip. Speaking of bullshit, Envoy waved, pointed at the door, and mouthed for Scroot to open it.

He announced loudly, “Nopony's home!”

Her little smile fell from her face, and she stared flatly at Scroot. She brought up a hoof slowly and gave a hard, definitive poke toward the door.

Scroot smiled and left his coffee on the table. He fiddled with the twine for a moment and pulled the door open, “You're up early.” He said as Envoy invited herself into the office, “Coffee?”

“Sure.” She said as her horn glowed to simultaneously straighten up the office, put files in their place, and pour herself a cup of coffee.

“Did you get a report from Pinkie and Applejack?” Scroot leaned to the table and took another sip of his coffee.

“Ugh!” Envoy recoiled away from the mug, "This is like year old motor oil.” She said while emptying the coffee back into the pot.

“Pinkie and Applejack, Envoy.” Scroot said and trotted to the front desk. He retrieved a fresh carton of cigarettes, tore open the box and tossed a pack onto the table before returning the carton to the drawer.

“They got very detailed statements from a few ponies that saw Trixie rent the cart from Teddy's Transportation.” She said while moving the harsh coffee aside and starting a milder brew.

“That's good. I was sure they'd fuck it all up.” Scroot said, and then he removed a cigarette from the pack.

“They thought they would too, I guess. Pinkie interviewed Teddy and was very thorough. We know where he went to primary school, his favorite color, and the way he likes to eat spaghetti.” Envoy explained while spooning coffee grounds onto the filter. Scroot walked to Envoy and mutely held the cigarette towards her horn. She lit it for him as she filled the reservoir with water, closed the lid, and flicked her magic over the power button.

“So, how does he eat his spaghetti?” Scroot asked and then pulled deeply on the cigarette. That first puff of the day from a fresh pack mixed with the dark coffee on his palette was the best part of life.

“He's a slurper.” Envoy chuckled.

Scroot nodded and had a smile pursed around the cigarette.

“More importantly, Pinkie gave us another lead.” Envoy said as she brought a few packets of sugar to herself with the magic.

“What's that?” Scroot said as he sat down at the table. A bit of ash floated down into his coffee, but that didn't stop him from taking a drink anyway.

Envoy slid an ash tray next to Scroot’s coffee mug with her magic, “Trixie used to work on that rock farm, east of here, when she was forced to take a break from the travelling magician stuff.” Envoy said while also taking a seat as her coffee brewed.

“Travelling magician?” Scroot laughed, “In a world where unicorns use magic to wipe their asses, why would anypony be interested in a magic show?"

Envoy smiled, “She felt ostracized after she got bested by a better unicorn.”

Scroot leaned down, placed the cigarette on the ash tray, and then took a sip of coffee, “Somepony showed her up, huh?”

Envoy leaned in with a raised brow, “Guess what particular somepony.”

Scroot looked up from his coffee. He already knew what the answer was, but he still felt the need to ask, “Who’s that?”

Envoy leaned back and crossed her hooves, “None other than our Twilight Sparkle.”

Scroot nodded mutely and began settling into a strange emotion that he didn't feel very often. As the evidence built, Rainbow's innocence became more apparent. He felt a deep-seated regret for making the decision to have Rainbow Dash detained.

“That sounds like probable cause, Envoy.” Scroot finally said.

She poured a cup of coffee from across the room with her magic. The sizzle of the coffee still dripping and boiling on the burner was silenced when she returned the pot. The mug floated to her as she watched Scroot stare into his own cup.

She took a sip from her coffee and asked, “Are you okay, Scroot?”

“I just feel bad for Rainbow.” He said.

“It’ll all be okay eventually.” Envoy assured. “We’ll go up to Canterlot when the District Attorney’s Office opens and withdraw the complaint.”

“Admonishing her from the crime is great and all, but I still fucked up.” Scroot shook his head, “How am I supposed to ask her forgiveness for taking the last four days from her?” He stared at the floor as his cigarette slowly smoldered away with ghostly gray ash clinging to the end of it. He almost appeared shaken.

Envoy furrowed her brow and set her cup down on the table. “The fact that you’re this worried about her feelings makes me believe you’re coming down with something.” Envoy said. “Should I get a thermometer?”

Scroot rolled his eyes, “I’m not sick.” He tapped the butt of the cigarette to release the ash into the tray before picking it up and drawing on it. He sighed in a cloud of smoke and shook his head again. “I think I’m turning gay.”

Envoy let out a half-chuckle and half-scoff, “Why would you say that?”

Scroot sighed again, “These ponies are getting to me. I have a respect for Applejack, Rarity makes me smile, Pinkie Pie has been very helpful, and Fluttershy is ballsy. I’m starting to like them.”

“Enjoying the company of other ponies doesn’t make you gay.” Envoy laughed.

“I don’t know.” He stopped to collect his thoughts, and then continued to elaborate, “I’ve arrested the wrong pony before. I just said, “My bad; you’ll get over it” and told them to trot on.” He explained.

“You probably didn’t have a relationship with those ponies’ friends.” Envoy pointed out.

“No, I didn’t.” Scroot nodded. A smile flashed across his face, “And also, they usually had convinced me that they were guilty of something else that they hadn’t got caught for. They were piece of shit ponies that would get hemmed up for stumbling on the body of their dealer or shit like that.” Scroot dabbed the cigarette on the ash tray and extinguished it before continuing, “They wouldn’t have been falsely accused if it weren’t for their bad intentions in the first place.” He gave pause and shook his head again, “But Rainbow Dash was totally innocent."

“She will forgive you eventually.” Envoy assured.

“I’m sure, but I doubt she wants anything to do with me right now.” Scroot shrugged, “I can let Celestia do it.”

Envoy raised a brow at Scroot, “So, have the princess issue the release because you’re afraid of seeing Rainbow Dash and admitting that you were wrong?”

Scroot flashed an angry glare at Envoy. He worked his jaw and said, “What the fuck is with everypony insistent on taking me down a peg or two?”

Envoy sat back in her chair and cocked her head. She shrugged slowly and turned her fore-hooves up, “I’m just pointing out what appears to be going on. If that’s not what’s happening, feel free to correct me.”

Scroot’s eyes squinted and his lips pursed together. His face became rosy before he stood abruptly which rocked the table and spilled his coffee. She sat in surprise at his outburst and stared wide-eyed while trying to comprehend the source of his tantrum. He had never acted this way towards her. The cabin was silent for a moment while the two ponies just stared at each other, and the tension grew heavier and heavier with each passing second.

“Fuck you, Envoy.” He growled as he stomped his way out of the cabin. Envoy was left dumbstruck in the silent house with nothing but the light patter of Scroot’s coffee dripping on the floor.

* * *

After lying in bed for hours without any sleep, Rarity got up and went to her wardrobe. She pulled open the double doors with her magic and viewed the contents to piece together an outfit that may catch a certain somepony's eye. She needed something that would complement a hat which was certainly required to hide her restless features. A little make-up does go a long way, but if she tried to cover her sleeplessness, she'd look like a clown; thus, a nice outfit should take the attention off her puffy, tired eyes.

Magically encompassed foundation pads, mascara brushes, and shadow pens floated around her as if in automation while she layered her “go outside face” under her eyes and on her cheeks. She levitated a cerise cloche and affixed it to her head while pushing her ears through it. She shook her head, and she carelessly tossed the hat back into the closet. She lowered a black banded boater over her left ear, but rejected it as well.

She settled on a simple, wide brimmed amethyst sun hat accented with a braided, lemon-colored yarn cord around the torso of the crown. It was a perfect match to her dull canary chiffon scarf laid casually around her neck and secured with a shiny, gold and violet sapphire brooch. She doubted that Scroot would notice purple and yellow aren't in season for another month. Besides, it gave her a chance to finally wear her plum alligator-leather clutch with the gold cross-body chain.

Rarity bounced down the stairs to her living room that was adjacent to the kitchen where Sweetie Belle was creating a culinary mystery and filling the home with a smoky smell.

“Sweetie Belle, dear, what is it that you're trying to make?” Rarity inquired.

“Pancakes, Sis! You want one?” Sweetie Belle answered with a spatula in her mouth.

Rarity sauntered to the stove where her little sister was "cooking" and looked over the lumps of brown batter, “No, I don't think so.”

“More for me!” Sweetie Belle declared. She lifted a “pancake” from the pan and took a bite. She glanced over to Rarity with a pained look and struggled to maintain her smile, “Are you sure you don't want any?”

“I'm sure, thank you.” Rarity smiled.

“Why are you all dressed up?” Sweetie Belle asked, and then she forced herself to swallow the dry, burned batter ball.

“The girls and I are going to Canterlot to get Rainbow out of...” Rarity attempted to quickly think of something vague to say, “Um… well... Rainbow is coming back to Ponyville, and we’re meeting with her in Canterlot.”

“That's good.” Sweetie Belle said passively as she turned off the stove and removed her creations from the heat.

Rarity levitated a stack of bits from her bag and placed it on the counter, “Whenever you’re done trying to burn down the house, you can go to the cafe with your friends for some real food.”

“Oh.” Sweetie Belle looked disappointed, “I was just getting warmed up. The Crusaders are coming over so we can get our chef cutie marks!”

Rarity shook her head, “Not in my house.”

Sweetie belle stepped down from the stove with a defeated sigh, “Fine.”

“Well, I'm off. And please, Sweetie Belle, don't burn the house down.” Rarity said as she tugged open the front door with her magic and departed from her home.

She cantered north through Ponyville and watched the bustling ponies in the main square. The carts squealed with rickety whines as they traversed the dirt paths, and the indistinct words of stern bargaining contributed to the dull roar of the town’s early morning crowd. She nodded to the towns-ponies that passed her, many of whom she knew personally, and they returned the gesture.

Out of so many familiar faces, Scroot’s angered brow and dark mane stood out as Rarity spotted him walking right toward her. She quickly adjusted her hat and chiffon, struck a mild pose, and waved daintily at him with a bright smile. Scroot’s cigarette was clenched in his teeth as he stomped his way right past Rarity without a word.

She followed him with her eyes and her smile quickly fading into a sort of frown, “How rude!” Rarity called.

Scroot stamped in a sudden halt and prepared to verbally destroy her before realizing who she was. He choked back his anger and greeted, “Oh. Hey.”

“I was waving at you.” Rarity said as she mimicked her previous movement.

He stepped closer, dropped his cigarette, and crushed it, “I’m sorry, Rarity. I’m having a rough morning.”

“I’m quite sorry, dear. What is the matter?” She asked politely.

“Just a little lover’s quarrel.” He said and gave a tiny shrug.

Rarity’s heart sank and she immediately began to feel stupid in her bright colors while everypony else was fashionably dressed in appropriate spring pastels. “What, um...” She stuttered. “Who?”

“Envoy was...” He paused and shook the words from his mouth, “It’s nothing.”

“You and Envoy...” Rarity sighed quietly.

“Am I an asshole?" Scroot asked without a trace of sarcasm in his voice.

“Well...” She gave pause and tried to come up with something that wasn’t mean spirited. She mostly felt angry at herself for not realizing why he treated Envoy differently than other ponies. Despite that, she couldn't help but feel like it was Scroot's fault for not declaring that he and Envoy was an item. She barely suppressed her embarrassment and finally answered, “I wouldn’t use that exact word.”

“What word would you use? Applejack said I was a curmudgeon.” He said.

“Applejack did?” Rarity focused on her surprise of the work-pony’s vernacular to deflect her internal conflict of which Scroot seemed to be ignorant.

He's doing this on purpose, Rarity thought. Scroot had a look about his face that was similar to when they had their conversation in his cabin. She couldn't quite place why she liked the particular way his tiny frown and large eyes were when he was feeling that way, and she thought that it must be his compassion showing. Although, it appeared to be more than that.

The ponies around them went about their day without regard for the two of them that stood in the middle of the market place. As if Rarity and Scroot were rocks in a stream, the shoppers were the rushing waters that fluidly diverted their paths around them. Rarity felt like she was obviously in emotional peril, and the fact that neither Scroot nor the ponies around her could see her pain made the experience much more hurtful.

She fought hard against herself to come up with something to redirect her feelings, but she failed and suddenly blurted, “How long have you and Envoy been together?”

Scroot cocked his head like he was trying to decode the question, “You mean as a partner of the office?" He asked slowly.

Rarity then cocked her head at him and answered slowly, "No."

"What are you asking me, then?" Scroot let out a stifled laugh.

"You and Envoy?" Rarity said like she was pointing out the relationship between the moon and Princess Luna. "How recent had your relationship with Envoy become romantic?"

"No, no, no." Scroot shook his head and smiled, "She and I aren't dating. We're partners in the office."

"I assume you've forbade office romance." Rarity said and tried her best to keep her grin under wraps. It came across as a strange, twisted smirk.

"You could say that, but it was a mutual agreement." Scroot's haughty brow rose as the suspicion that the conversation was much less about Envoy than himself. "She thinks I'm too old, and I think she's a little self-centered brat. We work well together, and that's about it."

Rarity chuckled uncomfortably, “Oh! I thought... you just said, "Lover’s quarrel" and I thought...”

Scroot smiled bigger, “No. We had an argument that was stupid. That’s what I meant by a "lover's quarrel"."

Rarity brushed her bangs with a hoof and laughed, “Okay. I see.”

Scroot’s quizzical smile didn’t falter, “Why do you ask?”

“Well, I... I just...” Rarity continued to struggle to form words and nothing came out except a jumble of unintelligible syllables.

He nodded and said, "Mm Hmm." while he reached up to adjust his hat with a hoof, but he grabbed nothing but the air. He frowned and attempted to see his own head where his hat always was.

Rarity jumped on the opportunity to divert the subject, “You don’t have your hat on.”

"Yeah, I don't." He felt his chest and was slightly shocked that he had left home without his jacket as well.

“I think that just the shirt and tie is nice, Scroot.” Rarity assured.

He shrugged, “I guess, but I can’t go to Canterlot like this.”

A light puzzled smile tugged at Rarity’s lips, “And why not?”

“I’m going to talk to the Princess, and I want the goons at the gate to take me seriously.” He dreaded the thought of returning to the cabin and facing Envoy after his unwarranted emotional outbreak. No matter what he did at that point, he’d have to admit that he was wrong to somepony. At least, if went to Canterlot, he could still get the Princess to be his proxy.

“I could go with you.” Rarity suggested. “I’m in casual dress, and the Princess and I are in cahoots. I’m sure that will make it okay.”

Scroot shrugged and blew a raspberry, “That’s a good idea.” He nodded and continued, "Are you ready? You want to catch the first train out?"

Rarity tried to contain her glee. She was proud of herself that she had stayed cool and made her plan come to fruition. Despite nearly losing it, a train ride together and alone was exactly the environment for which she was aiming to make the tiniest of confessions.

* * *

The farm was a massive area of rocks where a winding gravel drive led to a modest wooden cabin with a straw roof and gray brick chimney. The house was settled in the center of the farm, next to a silo and a windmill, and the yard was fenced in with two-by-four cedar posts. The square kilometers of dirt, dotted with large boulders across the entire region, was outlined with dead trees.

Pinkie Pie trotted down the drive with her small saddlebag bouncing on her back. The light clattering of her notepad, quill, and pocket watch accented her steady hoof-beat over which she hummed as she cantered.

Her parents had done nothing with the house since she was a filly which brought back not-so-fond memories of when she and her sisters were barred from talking and smiling while they worked the fields.

Pinkie knocked on the door and stood silently while listening to her father's heavy hooves clop against the wood floor inside. The door opened and revealed her father with his eyes slant and his mouth curved downward.

“Hello, Pinkimena. It's nice of you to drop by.” He said without emotion.

His golden eyes were penetrating, but they were offset by his dull gray mane which extended into long, bushy sideburns. His short cropped tail matched the grey band on his Stetson along with his pearl snap button down shirt. His short black tie was knotted in a boring double Windsor, and his brilliant orange-brown coat did little make his appearance livelier.

“Hi, Dad, how are you?” Pinkie hugged him, although the action wasn't reciprocated. Ever.

“Igneous, who's at the door?” Pinkie’s mother, Cloudy Quartz, called from the dining room. She was crocheting again. That's good.

“It's Pinkimena.” He stated flatly.

“Oh, that's nice.” Cloudy said without looking up.

A salty odor floated in the air and wasn't pleasant, but Pinkie knew her parents too well, “What's cookin'?” She asked.

“It's lilac chili.” Igneous Rock answered while moving aside and gesturing for Pinkie to enter.

“Ooh! It smells good.” Pinkie commented politely as she approached her mother and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Hi, Mom.”

Pinkie had Cloudy's eyes. Her brilliant blues looked up from her project, and with the same lifeless temperament as Igneous, she greeted, “Hello, Pinkimena. I hope you’re feeling better.” She said as she placed the folded yarn on the table, removed the needles, and stuck them in her dark bluish-grey mane. She looked older than she was due to her grey coat and gold framed crescent eye-glasses that worked negatively against her wrinkled brow. Her black and white plaid blouse was pinned by a gold brooch that had a large emerald set into it.

“I’m glad that you visited. I was worried about you. Losing a friend is tough.” Cloudy said.

Pinkie sat down at the table with her mother, “Thanks, Mom, but I'm actually not here to visit.”

Her father walked to the stove and stirred the chili passively, “What are you here for then?”

“I need to ask you a few questions about a previous employee that you employed.” Pinkie said as she retrieved her notepad and quill.

“Who would that be?” Cloudy asked. To anypony else, she would have sounded cynical and impartial, but Pinkie could hear the subtle nuances in her mother’s voice that indicated her perked interest.

“Trixie.” Pinkie said. “Did she come back by anytime recently?”

Igneous ladled the reddish brown soupy chili into a trio of bowls, “Yes.” He answered, “We told her that we were not interested in her work.”

“When was that?” Pinkie asked while noting the answer on her notepad. Igneous put a bowl of chili in front of Cloudy.

“Three days ago. She asked if we needed help again. We weren’t enthused by her previous work with us, so we told her to seek employment elsewhere.” Pinkie’s father reported.

“Do you know where she went after that?” Pinkie asked while continuing to record their answers.

Igneous set two bowls at the head of the table, and slid one with a hoof to Pinkie whom didn’t notice. Igneous answered, “She was angry and didn’t say much. She just said that she’d come back with a vengeance, and that we would rue the day that we rejected the Great and Powerful Trixie.”

Pinkie stopped writing and looked at her parents and felt a pang of unsettling fear. Sweat beaded and clung onto the fine hairs of her nape. She felt that Trixie may actually carry out her threat in light of Twilight’s murder. Her father watched her sink into trepidation through the rising steam of his chili.

“Are you okay, Pinkamena?” Igneous asked with barely noticeable concern.

“I’m not sure if you’re safe here.” Pinkie said.

“Why is that?” Cloudy asked inactively.

“I don’t know if Trixie is making an empty threat, Mom. I have reason to believe she may be serious about trying to harm you.” Pinkie wrote down what her father had quoted from Trixie on the notepad. “I think we need to put you somewhere safe.”

Her father shook his head, “No. She may try what she likes, but I’m sure she knows better.”

Pinkie gestured to him, “Dad, you don’t understand. She killed Twilight. I can’t let you take that risk. I couldn’t sleep at night knowing my parents are in danger.” Her voice grew louder and more vehement as her father consistently shooed away every one of her words with a dismissive wave of his hoof. “I can’t lose any more of my family! Be reasonable!” She yelled and slammed her hoof on the table with wetness growing in her eyes.

Cloudy and Igneous appeared to intentionally disregard Pinkie’s demand as they passively sipped the soup and chewed the chunks of flora. Igneous swallowed and set a stern gaze upon Pinkie, “We’re not going anywhere, Pinkamena. That’s final. I assure you that we will be okay. Trixie has seen me demolish boulders with my bare hooves, and I am sure that she knows I will do the same to her skull if she returns with malicious intent.”

Pinkie gathered her things and shoved them into her saddlebag. She stood and began stomping her way to the exit with frustration weighing her steps.

She was stopped at the door by her father’s voice, “Pinkamena. Please, don’t be angry.”

Pinkie Pie looked back and shifted her fearful gaze from her mother to her father. “I’m not angry. I’m scared, and obviously there is no way to tell you that in a way that you will understand. I’m going back to Ponyville to search for another lead because when I find Trixie, I know you’ll be safe.”

With that, Pinkie Pie departed in a determined canter to Scroot's cabin to turn in her report. The growing fear of losing her parents reflected in her speed as she gradually accelerated into a sprint. The possibility that Trixie was laughing, giggling, or even smiling at that moment propelled Pinkie faster. The idea that anypony would be even speaking to Trixie made her run harder. Trixie was going to pay; she was going to hurt, and she was going to fear exactly the way that Pinkie did right then.

Author's Note

(Illustration coming soon)

I'm all about ties