Carrie returned back to Ponyville the morning after. Fleur and Fancy could pick up on her upset, but she insisted it was nothing. Again, because they were wonderful ponies, Fleur and Fancy respected her boundaries. Instead of pushing the issue, they kissed her goodbye and wished her a safe, boring train ride.

Her trip was nice and dull, and when she reached the Ponyville station, only Spike was there to greet her. Thank the gods.

The dragon waved at her. "Hey, Carrie! How was your trip?"

Carrie jogged up to him and gave him a firm hug. "It's so good to be back."

Spike returned her embrace. "Was it really that bad?" he asked with concern.

"It was..." she trailed off as she to tried find the right words.

Spike pulled away from her.

"Carrie?"

"My... my trip was nice," the hippogriff finally told him.

Spike quirked a brow as he began leading her off the platform. "Is 'nice' a good thing or just code for a bad thing?"

"So where are we going?"

"Ah, so it was that bad, huh?"

Carrie looked away from him.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

"No."

The dragon sighed. "Alright, Carrie. Do you want to know what we've been up to here?"

"Yes please."

"Alrighty then!" Spike clapped his hands together with enthusiasm. "Let's go to Café Hay!"

"Will my dad be there?"

"Eh? I wouldn't count on it," Spike shrugged. "There was a nasty Everfree storm at the farm last night, and it did some damage. All hooves are on deck at Sweet Apple Acres. I guess you can see him tonight, though."

"Too bad," Carrie pouted. "I guess I'll just see him later." The two walked the rest of the way in amicable conversation.

By the time they had gotten seated and placed their orders, a comfortable silence had fallen between them. Spike took the opportunity to strike up conversation with the couple sitting next to their table. Carrie took the opportunity to drink in her surroundings.

Manehattan was, without a doubt, the most diverse city in all of Equestria. It's where most immigrants began their Equestrian story, and it was where Carrie had (probably) been born and raised. And yet, as she analyzed the scenery around the cafe, Carrie felt like Manehattan purported diversity was overblown.

"Your coffee, ma'am," the waiter said, giving her a real smile. "And your hot water and mint leaves, Spike."

"Thank you," Carrie dipped her head in appreciation and returned his smile with a genuine one of her own.

The waiter then turned to the couple Spike was conversing with. "I'll have your sandwiches in a moment, Mr. and Mrs. Donkey," the pony promised the pair prior to parting.

As Carrie looked at Cranky, she thought back to the ponies who had bullied the crate away from the nameless donkey. Questions formed in her beak, but Carrie didn't ask them. Instead, she closed her eyes, sipped her coffee, and listened to the sounds of Ponyville.

"Carrie? Carrie?" Spike focused her attention back on him.

"Oh! Sorry about that, Spike! Were you saying something?"

"Not me. Matilda asked you a question."

Carrie offered the jenny a smile. "Hello, Mrs. Donkey. Sorry about that, I kinda zoned out."

Matilda giggled. "Just Matilda, dear. Anyway, I asked how you were doing. Did you have a good trip?"

"It was... nice," Carrie answered, trying to make her response sound as neutral as possible.

"That bad, hm?" Cranky asked. "Can't say I'm surprised. I'm not crazy about Manehattan either."

"Cranky!" Matilda chastised.

Carrie considered contesting his assertion, but then she dismissed the thought. Truths were easier to keep track of than lies and she was under no obligation to tell them everything that happened.

"Eh, when you grow up in the city, it loses it luster pretty quick," she shrugged.

"I'll say," Cranky grumbled with a roll of his eyes. "I lived in that overhyped dump for a few years trying to find you, Milly, but ugh. I couldn't. I just simply couldn't live there."

"Manehattan's not that bad," Spike offered. "I visited—"

"Yes," Carrie nodded, "you visited; you didn't live there."

"Whole different game when you actually live there," Cranky agreed.

Matilda pouted. "Well if you hate the blasted place so much, why did you book our honeymoon there?"

"Because—"

"Bridleway?" Carrie interrupted him.

"Bridleway," he confirmed.

"Deers and Roebucks Department Store?"

"Naturally."

"Central Park?"

"Eeyup."

"I went to those places too!" Spike exclaimed. "They were nice."

"I'll say!" Matilda agreed. "I loved the 'Forest King' musical we saw!"

"And there was everything at the Deers!" Spike added.

"I could just shop there forever," Matilda sighed. "And Central Park was so lovely..."

"It sure is... (when it's not dark out). Anyway, you picked a good itinerary for your honeymoon," Carrie complimented the jack.

"Of course," Cranky preened. "Nothing but the best for my beautiful jenny."

"Then it's a good thing you chose to live here, Mr. Donkey," Carrie concluded.

He shrugged. "If you travel long enough, you figure out how to spot the nice places from the not-so-nice ones... and please, call me 'Cranky.'"

Spike raised a brow. "Is there something you want to talk about, Carrie?"

She looked down at her wobbly reflection in the coffee. Again, Carrie knew that she wasn't under any obligation to tell any of them what was on her mind. But then again, Spike was her friend, and Cranky had lived in Manehattan before, and Matilda was so nice, and they were all minorities...

Well, no one here was much of a blabber mouth.

Carrie turned her attention back to the married couple. "Cranky, Matilda, would you mind if Spike and I pushed our table next to yours."

Husband and wife immediately began shifting their seats out of the way to accommodate the new addition to their lunch.

"Spike, could you please grab our drinks?"

He gave her a salute before doing as she requested.

When the task was done and all four were properly situated, Carrie began rummaging through her saddlebags. She pulled out several manilla envelopes.

"Matilda, did you style manes and tails?"

"Why yes!" she nodded with pride. "Before the arthritis locked up my bones, I was a beautician!"

"I could tell," Carrie smiled. "Your mane is always immaculate."

"I was never as successful in my beauty career as, say Rarity or Fluttershy. But every mare who sat at my seat always left looking like a million bits!"

"Matilda... who were your clientele?"

"Why, the fine mares of Ponyville of course!"

"The mares? Of course. Matilda?"

"Yes, dear?"

Carrie pulled out a photo from one of the envelopes. "If you were still in your prime, do... do you think that you could work your magic on this model?"

Matilda grinned. "Well, I don't know if she'd be runway ready, but—" Her grin disappeared as she studied the portrait. "Sorry, but I don't think there'd be much I could do for her. Why do you ask anyway? Does she need a beautician?"

Carrie sighed. "No, Matilda. I don't know anything about the model except what she looks like."

"Well jeez! Just how hideous is this model that you couldn't do anything for her, Milly?" Cranky asked with a frown as he snatched the portrait from her hooves. "Oh."

"Let me see that," Spike said as he reached over the table to grab the photo. Spike studied the photo before closing his eyes in concentration. "She is... a Mongalla... no, she's a Rhim gazelle." And he gave Carrie the photo.

"A Rhim gazelle? Never heard of them," Carrie told him.

"She must be an immigrant from the Zebrican Savannah. That continent is very diverse," Spike added.

Carrie slipped the photo back into its manilla envelope. She pulled out a portrait from a different envelope. "Matilda? Do you think you could do anything for this model?"

Matilda's grin reappeared again. "I don't think I was ever skilled enough to style for fashion shows, but I could make this Earth beauty dazzle!"

"And what about this one?" Carrie handed the jenny yet another photo as Matilda hoofed over the Earth model's photo to Cranky.

"Oh, I was always disappointed Ponyville had few pegasi back when I was still standing behind the chair. I could maybe—" and Matilda yammered on a bit as she described what she could do to the model.

"And him?" Carrie asked as she showed the jenny a different model's portrait.

"Ooo, a stallion! I didn't work with males that often, but I still made them look fantastic! With this model, I would—" Carrie let her talk before finding a suitable moment to interrupt her.

"Last one, Matilda. What could you do for him?"

The moment Matilda laid eyes on the model's portrait, her excited grin disappeared again. She silently studied the photo, drinking in his features. "He's a handsome one, I'll give him that, but I'm afraid that this stag is well beyond my power."

"He's a son of Warren Roebucks."

Spike, who was attempting to drink his fresh mint tea, sputtered and choked on his drink.

Cranky snatched the photo from his wife's hooves. "The Warren Roebucks of Deers and Roebucks?"

"Yep. That stag's name is Moss Warren Roebucks."

A blush ignited in Matilda's face. "Well, if I really had to be a beautician for one of Mr. Roebucks fawns..."

"The model's a bastard. He was born from one of Warren Roebucks' many mistresses," Carrie informed her.

"Oh. So he's not the son of one of Mr. Roebucks' wives?"

"Nope," the hippogriff supplied. "In fact, I heard from somepony else that he likes to sign his name as M. Warren Roebucks just to get everypony's attention."

Upon hearing this, Matilda made a face of distaste. "So he's a bastard coasting off Daddy's name? Well now I definitely wouldn't want to be this stag's beautician."

"Why?"

"Because it's dishonest! I wouldn't—"

"Matilda, have you ever beautified a bastard before?"

"I— well yes. I've made bastard brides shine brighter than the stars."

"I see. Have you ever worked for a client who was under a false name?"

"Er, yes, several times in fact. I must've helped... five or six... seven(?) ponies—"

And Carrie gave her a defeated sigh.

Cranky studied the Roebucks photo. "So you said your trip to Manehattan was 'nice?'" he asked the hippogriff.

"Eeyup. How'd you know I'd get back to that?"

The jack hoofed over the portrait to Spike. "You don't survive travelling the world by being a dumb ass."

Matilda flattened her ears against her skull. "Carrie, what did I say?"

Cranky started nuzzling his wife.

"Matilda, you're a nice donkey and I really do like you," Carrie offered her in a comforting tone, "but I don't like that I saw that typical Manehattan attitude of just... dismissing the nonpony."

And Cranky scoffed. "You think this is just a Manehattan attitude?"

"Fine, Equestrian—"

"Uh uh," Cranky shook his head. "Think bigger. Every soul I met in all my travels was a speciesist."

"Well I'm not a speciesist!" Matilda protested. "Just look at who we're sitting with!"

"Shh, Matilda!" Spike whispered. "Not so loud!"

The jenny swallowed whatever other outburst she had, but her indignation was still apparent. "I am not a speciesist!" she insisted quietly. "If I were, would I be sitting here talking with a dragon and hippogriff? Cranky, you've just thrown a terrible insult at me. Honestly, accusing a donkey of all souls—"

Carrie reorganized the manilla envelopes. "Matilda, I know you're mad because being accused of being speciesist is pretty bad. But..."

"But what?" Matilda growled.

"You said you once beautified the mares of Ponyville. How many cows and sheep have you beautified?"

"I— cows? Sheep? I worked at the salon, not for Granny Smith!"

"Okay, fine, so the heifers and ewes never left Sweet Apple Acres (as if that's not concerning enough). But what about other donkeys? Haven't you ever beautified other donkeys?"

Matilda seemed taken aback by the question. "I, well..."

And the other three waited for her to finish her response.

"I've, I've beautified myself before," she finally admitted in a small voice.

"Have you ever beautified a nonpony before?" Spike asked.

Her ears flattened against her head. "W-well, no, but-but Ponyville used to be such a small, isolated town. There really weren't that many clients I could work with, regardless of species."

"Milly, when you were getting your beauty license, did you ever even learn how to work with nonponies?"

Matilda shied away from her husband's question. "Um well, it was, it was so very, very long ago and-and—"

"Milly," Cranky softly interrupted her rambling.

Matilda sighed and looked down at the ground, her ears and tails drooping. "No... I don't think I ever learned how to work with nonponies before."

Carrie pulled out the two portraits of the gazelle and Roebucks and studied them.

"So this is what you meant by 'nice?'" Spike asked. "Speciesism? What happened in Manehattan?"

The hippogriff set down the two photos and tapped her claws against the table, wondering how to word her story.

"Nothing... bad happened to me. I spent a small holiday with Equestria's power couple: we laughed, we explored, we had fun, and because I was in their little bubble, nopony dared to be blatantly bigoted towards me. But... a couple nights ago, I saw an altercation."

"What happened?" Matilda pressed, glad the conversation shifted away from her.

"Nothing too horrible. This donkey and these pegasi got in a shout match, a police officer came and she broke them up, but then the donkey threw one of his crates at the pegasi. He wasn't being violent or anything! He was just... giving them what they wanted."

Spike pondered the story behind steepled claws. "And do you know if the crate belonged to the donkey?"

"Well, I don't know for certain because I didn't hear what they were fighting about, but when the police officer came, she immediately sided with the pegasi."

And Cranky rolled his eyes. "Typical."

"Maybe," Spike mumbled as he now tapped his claws in thought. "However, I was taught (and learned firsthoof) that the obvious explanation isn't always the right one."

Carrie waved dismissive talons. "Fine, but that's just one thing I saw, the other, well..." She looked back down at the gazelle and Roebucks photos.

"My aunt, Fleur de Lis—"

And Matilda gasped. "You don't mean—!" She quickly looked around her and then lowered her voice. "You don't mean that your aunt is Lady Knight Fleur of the House de Lis?"

And Carrie nodded. "She is as talented, as beautiful, and as wonderful as the press says. But the other night, she and this other pony, Hoity Snoity—"

"Toity," Spike and Matilda said in unison. "His name is Hoity Toity," Matilda corrected.

"It is?" she asked. "Oh. Whoops."

"What's the matter?"

"Um, that's not important!" Carrie insisted, unable to hide her blush. "What's important was how Hoity Toity, how everypony reacted when they looked at Roebucks' portfolio."

"What happened?" Spike pressed.

"Hoity Toity just... looked at it in disgust and wanted it to be thrown out with all the other rejects. He later said that the model wouldn't sell product! But I wanted to see why the portfolio was so bad, and then I read that his name was M. Warren Roebucks, and when I told everypony in the room that he was a son of the Warren Roebucks... everypony got excited like you guys did. But then they realized he was a bastard."

Carrie pulled out the rest of the portraits from the envelopes. "All of these models were rejected by my aunt and Hoity Toity, but I kept a few just to... I don't know."

The four sat in silence before Carrie spoke up again. "I guess I just wanted to see if anypony— anyone in Ponyville thought these nonpony models were worthy of adoration. The three of you gave me that answer. Spike," she turned to the dragon, "you just looked at this gazelle to figure out her species. You were admiring the beauty of all the other female models."

He looked away, a blush creeping into his cheeks. "Carrie, we were raised by ponies. I've hardly ever dealt with anypo— anyone different."

"Maybe, Spike, but you just tossed her portrait aside once you were done figuring out her species. How many times has something similar happened to you? I can tell you that happened to me a hundred times when I was still in foster care. Every time somepony would come by the home to get a foal, they would just look at me to figure out what I was before moving on to some other foal. Can any of you imagine how that felt like? To be some quaint oddity to figure out before being passed over?"

And Spike turned his gaze down to the floor. Carrie continued her tirade.

"Matilda, you gushed over all the other models and had plans right off the bat about how to beautify them! But when you looked at the gazelle's portrait you just dismissed her. And you did the same thing with Roebucks before I told you his name. And then, when I told you he was a bastard, you dismissed him again—"

"I, I dismissed him because he was being dishonest by trying to coast on his father's name!" she protested.

"Maybe, Matilda, but his father's name is all he has. Before you knew his name, you were ready to just dismiss him like you dismissed the gazelle. And then when I said his name, he had your attention!"

Tears rimmed Matilda's eyes. "I-I guess," Matilda admitted with a murmur. Cranky nuzzled his wife again, but did not say anything to her. "B-but I had never had the opportunity to study nonponies."

"Maybe you didn't have the chance, but would you have studied how to beautify nonponies?"

The jenny's eyes widened and then she started to cry. "I'm not sure..."

I— look," Carrie pinched the feathers between her eyes. "I like all of you, I promise, and we're all minorities here. But even when I'm surrounded by minorities, you're doing what that police officer, you're doing what my family did to these models: dismissing the minority and catering to the ponies."

The four of them sat in silence for awhile. Spike's tea was cold, Carrie's coffee was only half-drunk, and the sandwiches Cranky and Matilda ordered lay forgotten on their plates.

Finally, Carrie pulled away from the table and stood. "Matilda, if you were in your prime, and I was getting married in a month, what could you do to beautify me?"

Matilda rubbed the tears away from her eyes. She squinted at the hippogriff. At last, she answered. "I could... curl your tail."

"You could only make my pony-half beautiful?"

And Matilda looked away in shame. "That's all I know."

"I guess," Carrie mumbled. "That's all I know too. That's all everypony knows. I'm sorry for making you cry, Matilda. Bye."

She didn't even bother saying goodbye to the others before launching off with her powerful pony legs and taking flight with her powerful griffon wings.

Spike looked at the manilla envelopes that Carrie had forgotten to take. He tucked them all under his arm. Maybe she would want them later.

He left a couple of gold bits on the table. "This, uh... this wasn't the lunch I was expecting," he told Cranky.

Cranky sighed. "You and me both, kid. You and me both."

"I hope you feel better Matilda, bye. Bye, Cranky."

"Bye, Spike. Waiter! Could you please give us the check and a box?"

Author's Note

I should probably proofread these before I submit them

...

Nah.