"So," Rarity said, her eyebrows slanted, and her gaze focused on a pocket of space that existed only in her own mind, "I looked that uncouth ruffian straight in his eyes, and I told him, 'Look. My job is to design, to sell, and to give the occasional makeover when local salon queues are full. It is not to look closely into the production background of every single piece of merchandise that graces our shelves. Now, if you wish to wait for Miss Hemline, who is my manager, to return, so that you may debate with her about whether or not the silk we utilize in our garments is "green" enough for your highly specific tastes, then you're free to do so—but if not, then please leave, and take your tired, clearly Internet-sourced catchphrases with you! Good day!' Ugh!"
Rarity scoffed in ultimate exasperation, plopping her elbow on the table in front of her, and her forehead in her hand. "I am fine with environmental activists—I mean, if I weren't, Fluttershy and I would never talk to each other—but when you start interfering with my ability to help actual paying customers and can't take 'please wait so we can talk about this in a more suited venue that benefits both of us' for an answer, I just cannot abide. I'm running a business here!" She threw up her hands, then plopped her palms on the table. "When the person who actually runs the business isn't around, that is."
Rarity looked across the table at Pinkie Pie. The two of them were sitting in the Cinnamon Paradise eatery located in Canterlot Mall, which had opened recently. Cold metallic tables dotted the area around them, along with uncomfortable, flimsy white plastic chairs, much like the one she and Pinkie sat in right now.
Pinkie didn't look uncomfortable, however, because she was too busy staring at the preparation booth longingly, watching cinnamon buns slowly rise in the windowed oven. All Cinnamon Paradise buns were custom made to order, which meant that both girls were still waiting for theirs. Rarity was certainly skeptical of the approach, but she would know soon enough whether or not it was worth it, she supposed. In the meantime, she sighed as she calmed down, envious of Pinkie's ironically Zen state of anticipation.
"Thank you for coming all the way from your diner job just to see me," Rarity said. "Anyone and everyone who was closer was just so busy, but I needed to vent to someone."
"Oh, no problem," Pinkie said, visibly multitasking as her eyes grew bigger in tandem with the rising dough. "Bribing me with sweets goes a long way. But you knew that."
Rarity nodded. "I was banking on it. Though, in addition, I must also sorely apologize." Rarity sighed, flicking at the collar of her blouse. "I mean, just look at me: we've been so busy these past few weeks, yet when we finally get a measly hour ourselves, it ends up just being you listening to me complain about why I've been so busy!" She rolled her eyes. "Seriously, could I be doing this any more wrong? Sugarcoat would have a field day."
"Eh, no problem numero dos," Pinkie said with a shrug. "It's been super-busy for me too. My customers at the diner have been getting really picky." Her expression soured, her mouth scrunching and nose twitching. "I mean, I'm glad we're getting regulars, but do you know how many people are now ordering lactose-free milkshakes, gluten-free pastries and vegan cotton candy?" She counted on her fingers as she named off orders.
"Huh. Well, it is summer, and that new Equestrian Beach Diet went viral a mere month ago. You know, the one that promises to make you 'fit enough to ride a horse without a saddle'?" Rarity rolled her wrist, and her eyes, while chuckling. "I never stop hearing about it at the boutique."
"Well, whatever it is, it's messing with our business!" Pinkie wailed. "We've been having to special order things left and right from our suppliers, and then when it all gets here, it's so easy mix them up!"
"There was this one time we gave someone a vegan milkshake and gluten-free cotton candy, but regular pastries," Pinkie went on, counting on her fingers, "and she got mad because she wanted a regular milkshake and gluten-free pastries! So, then she tried to sue us a week later—and seriously, who thought that diet up and then declared that no one can ever order all three at once? It'd be easier on everyone if they just ordered all three at once, but noooooooooo, apparently doing all of them together causes some sort of dietary backfire and—" Pinkie stopped herself mid-sentence, with a deep breath and a loud exhale. "Guess I had a massive vent in me, too." She grinned wide, showing teeth. "Call it even?"
"By all means." Rarity giggled. "Thank you for making me feel so much better in so little time."
"Eh." Pinkie shrugged and winked. "It's what I do."
"That's just it, though, isn't it?" Rarity said with a sigh. "This is what we do. Sometimes I wonder whether it's worth going through so much hassle in the simple name of 'following one's passions', or 'living one's dream'."
"Sometimes I wonder that too," Pinkie said. "But then I always tell myself—" Upon seeing a waitress heading towards heir table, she stopped, her body going taut as she squealed at the top of her lungs. "They're here! They're here they're here they're here they're here they're here they're here they're here—"
"Pinkie, it's impolite to squeal at waitresses," Rarity said. "I thought you of all people would know this."
"Really?" Pinkie scratched her head, looking genuinely puzzled. "Happens to me all the time. Usually when I bring sundaes and ice cream floats."
Rarity sighed again. She had learned years ago to pick her battles when it came to Pinkie Pie and matters of life, the universe, and everything. Besides, the waitress was busy putting two large, steaming, cinnamon-topped swirls of dough on their table, both of which absolutely dripped with what was a veritable mini-tower off frosting. To say that this was a distraction for Rarity was an understatement.
"My goodness, I do believe this is my first time witnessing something simultaneously so scrumptious and dangerous." Rarity picked up her metal fork and knife, pressed against the bun, and did a double-take at the amount of squishy resistance both met in the face of the thickness of the frosting, to say nothing of the bun itself. "Oh, my. I... may have to go on my own Equestrian Beach Diet after eating half of one of these."
"Thanks for your excellent service!" Pinkie said, flashing the waitress her biggest smile. "Have you ever considered upgrading from chain outlet to diner work? How well do you skate?"
The waitress—an apron-wearing gray-skinned blonde who Rarity recognized as a CHS student—met Pinkie with a blank stare, fueled by the laziest eyes in the universe. Literally.
Pinkie shrugged. "Oh-kay, then. You know what, we'll try this recruitment pitch again next year! Work on your convo skills before then," she said with a harsh whisper.
As the waitress walked away, Pinkie set her sights on the warm confection in front of her, slathered with just as much icing as Rarity's. She picked up her knife and fork, and pressed against the bun, making a mildly impressed "hmm" sound as she did so. She then put the fork down and took out a pen and notebook from her purse. Once the notebook was out, she took a full forkful of bun and ate it, chewing slowly, tilting her head to the left and right, while "hmmm"ing even more.
Suddenly, Pinkie's eyebrows shot up. She opened her notebook to a blank page and jotted words down furiously. With an intent stare, Rarity watched Pinkie repeat the eat-and-scribble process a second time, then a third, before finally deciding to speak up. "Pinkie, are you... taking notes on your snacking experience?"
Pinkie nodded. "Mm-hmm," she said, her mouth full of cinnamon bun. She chewed, then swallowed. "Sorry if it looks weird."
"Oh, far be it from me to discourage studiousness of any sort," Rarity replied. "But may I ask why?"
"Sure!" Pinkie said, proceeding to eat three more bites over the course of the next forty seconds. It took Rarity until second number thirty-seven without getting any sort of answer before she finally realized what had just transpired. In retrospect, she'd brought this on herself.
Declining to scream, she instead elected to try again. She exhaled, then asked, "Okay, Pinkie. Why exactly are you taking notes on your snacking experience?"
"Glad you asked!" Pinkie said, oblivious to Rarity's exasperated trembling. "So, Cinnamon Paradise's recipes are a trade secret, and none of the imitation recipes online measure up. I've tried all fifty of them! None of them taste the same at all."
"Ahhh! So, you're taking culinary matters into your own hands!" Rarity said. "Erm, mouth. And after only five seconds of thought, I honestly don't know which sounds less sanitary."
"Yup! Using my patented taste-bud powered Pinkie Scale, I'm detecting and measuring the ingredients and recipe portions myself, down to the ounce!" She took a forkful of frosting-topped bun, and munched, while showing Rarity her notes, which were an incoherent mess of words, numbers, and the occasional interrobang. "Now, on the Pinkie Scale, where a five is your standard cupcake, the sugar level rates a seven, but the frosting ratio rates a nine. This means that the frosting is sweet, but not overpowering, which in my view is really good, but also pretty sneaky sis because it makes you want to buy extra frosting, and since that frosting has a creaminess level of ten exactly..." Pinkie stared into space, her mouth slightly agape, and shining more by the second as she moaned in satisfaction.
Rarity took a handkerchief, dabbing the side of Pinkie's mouth. "You do know it's unsightly for a lady to drool, yes?"
"I can't help it!" Pinkie exclaimed, reaching across the small table to grasp her friend's shoulders. "They're so good, Rarity! Sooooooo gooooooood. Even with my years of experience in gastronomical reverse engineering, analyzing these things are taxing my abilities to the limit! No wonder the Sugarcube Corners are losing out to these guys in the pastry market! Whoever made this recipe is a genius!" She blinked. "You think Twilight's gone into the food business?"
Rarity chuckled. "Pretty sure she would have told us if she had. But ahhh, yes, now I understand," she said, her heart swelling with excitement. "Your motivations are economical—I dare say you're here as a corporate spy! That, I can respect, on the level of intrigue involved alone."
Mentally exploring the concept, Rarity's eyes went starry as she envisioned Pinkie Pie in a dapper suit, skulking around the mall, behind stairs, within shadows, infiltrating Cinnamon Paradise's kitchen... and those same stars in her eyes now exploded in front of her. So many stars. "Inspiration! Yes!" she exclaimed.
"Oooh, I love when you get these moments! What's up?" Pinkie asked.
"Merely a blend of striking, but subtle style, mixed with noble purpose, while still maintaining an off-the-beaten-path image," Rarity said, splaying her hands in front of herself, then moving them apart. "I'd be playing into a universal fantasy—everyone loves to play the antihero, but without the risk that comes with it!" Rarity's breaths shortened as she grasped the edge of the table. "I'll of course have to consult Miss Montage just to make sure I don't run afoul of any film copyrights, but otherwise, Espionage Chic is a go!"
"Eeeee!" Pinkie said, clapping her hands. "Sounds exciting!"
"Indeed!" Rarity reached for her garment bag, which had been hanging on the chair up until that moment. "Now, Pinkie, as the catalyst of my current inspiration, I'll need multiple sessions with you to help me pull this off. In fact, do you have a few minutes now? I've got some sample garments in my bag—ooh, and the time is just right to don them! I mean, if you're really looking for a leg up in competing with Cinnamon Paradise, you'll need all the intel you can get, will you not?"
"Who said anything about trying to compete?" Pinkie said suddenly.
Rarity froze, blinking. "What?"
"I just want to be able to have these anytime I want," Pinkie said, gesturing to the half-eaten cinnamon bun. "What if I have a craving for a Paradise Surprise late at night? I'm pretty sure this place is closed at 3am, which just won't work!" She darted out of her seat, and in front of Rarity, curling her hands in front of herself. "And that just leads to even worse feelings! Trust me: when the Pinkie Pie Palate pines for pastry, it pines profoundly!"
Rarity calmed down as she saw her friend tense in front of her.
Of course.
Just like that, she remembered just why Pinkie Pie was, and always would be, one of her best friends in the universe. In all her years of being on this earth, Rarity was still hard-pressed to find someone who was just so... so pure.
"Understood," Rarity said, her smile joyful and broadening. "Feel free to count me in."
"Huh?" Pinkie said, relaxing as well. "Didn't you just say you liked the whole super economical spy thing?"
"Well, yes, I still do. But that's hardly a prerequisite for me to know a good idea when I see one." Rarity got up from her seat and took Pinkie's hand. As both stood in front of each other, face-to-face, Rarity continued. "As someone who deals specifically in the nature of personal desire, I understand how you feel completely," she said, closing her hands around her friend's.
"You... really?" Pinkie asked. "But I thought you were more into clothes than food."
"Which utterly matters not," Rarity said, slinging her bag over her shoulder with confidence. "There are days when I absolutely must wear certain colors, or flares versus skirts, or a power blouse, or heels versus flats—and even given the myriad options in the world I have for outfits at my disposal, those 'other options' for clothes may as well be common trash compared to my desires in that point in time! And heaven help me, and the world, if that desire isn't satisfied."
Pinkie nodded. "That's exactly how I feel whenever I can't have my midnight whipped cream smoothie!"
"Exactly." Rarity paced around Pinkie, sliding her hands across the latter's shoulders. "I know it drives me crazy when I cannot indulge in what completes me, thus I refuse to let one of my best friends fall victim to such a malaise. Many of my weekends are devoted to dreaming up new designs based on the hottest of hottest trends, and design is only two steps away from cooking. We both are experimenters, you and I, and quite frankly I can think of nothing better than giving my muse a most welcome change of pace."
Rarity stopped in front of Pinkie again, wearing an earnest expression. "Besides, it's been a while since we've had a weekend with just the two of us," she said, tenderly. "I've sorely missed them—and you. Will you have me?"
Pinkie's expression brightened almost instantly.
"Like you even have to ask!" she said, throwing her arms around Rarity, and tipping forward on one leg. "I missed hanging out with you bunches, too, exactly because of things like this."
"Because of what like what?" Rarity asked.
Pinkie pulled back, though remained close. "You know. Things where you... get me," she said sheepishly. "Even though I know I can be hard to get sometimes."
Rarity sighed with a smile. "I'm rarely good at it, but I learned long ago that's it's always worth looking at things from the Pinkie angle. One never knows what one might find—and I've not regretted doing so yet."
Pinkie giggled, touching her forehead to Rarity's. "And I've never regretted letting you," she said softly.
Just as Rarity was beginning to relax into their embrace, her phone's alarm chirped and vibrated. "And naturally, at the worst possible moment, there's the timer for my shift," Rarity said. "Back to the grind."
Pinkie's phone did the same seconds later. "Back to the grind," Pinkie echoed. "My house, Saturday, one-ish?"
"I'm already there," Rarity said.
"You are?" Pinkie looked around. "But you're also here!" she said, pointing at Rarity. "Wow. You should patent that."
Rarity laughed. "Never change, Pinkie. Please and thank you."
Pinkie grinned. "Only because you asked so nicely."
The two friends smiled at each other, held hands, and made their way towards the mall exit. As they neared the escalator, however, they heard a voice hissing at them from the underpass.
"Hey! Miss! With the bag!"
Rarity made a show of not noticing, even though she of course had. She gripped Pinkie's hand more firmly, and kept walking.
"Psst! Miss Carousel Boutique!" the voice hissed again.
Rarity stopped, then turned around and walked towards the voice. "All right, that's practically shining a signal in the sky with my personal logo on it," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "Whatever she wants, it had better be good—"
Rarity froze where she was, when she saw who it was: a girl her age, with faded light blue skin, deep gray hair in a ponytail, and wearing a black jumpsuit. The jumpsuit was loose and did some things in the way of disguising its owner's default appearance, but Rarity knew who she was looking at right off the bat.
"Thanks," the now not-so-mystery girl said as Rarity gasped. "I recognized the logo on your garment bag. I need your help."
Rarity's mouth widened. "Y-y-y-y-y-you're—" she stammered, pointing.
The other girl sighed. "Without alerting the entirety of the mall?"
"R-right," Rarity managed, regaining her composure. "Of course. What can I do for you, Miss Coloratura?"
Coloratura looked around. "I know your boutique is close. Do you have anything there that can render me... inconspicuous?"
"What, like, to not be seen?" Pinkie said. "Aren't you a star? Isn't that your thing?"
"Well, yes," Rarity said, "but imagine having to be in the spotlight, 24/7, whether you like it or not. Or, for you, imagine having to work at the diner without ever going home."
Pinkie gasped. "That's wonderful until it isn't anymore!" she said.
"Indeed," Rarity said, with Coloratura nodding. "It leaves one ever yearning for self-time. I completely understand." She turned to Coloratura. "That said, there's far too much lighting in this mall. I don't know if we'd be able to get back to my boutique without you being discovered and mobbed. Honestly, I don't know how you made it here."
"Long story. Boring story." Coloratura huffed. "Still, I appreciate you trying— "
"Ah, ah, ah," Rarity said, opening her bag, and taking out black sunglasses, a long black coat, and a fashionable gray beret, all of which Coloratura put on as she received them. "Rarity never gives up, and never says die. This is absolutely a work in progress, but I give you the proto-proto-prototype of Espionage Chic!" Rarity held up a small mirror to allow Coloratura to check her new look. "Basic, yet versatile and blending. And as a bonus, you could honestly spend hours in any coffeeshop you care to name, and no one would bat an eye."
Coloratura nudged her new shades atop her forehead and looked in the mirror with an awed expression.
A moment later, without any warning, Rarity found herself on the receiving end of a hug from the pop star. "Oh, my goodness. You've freed me, in less than a minute," Coloratura said. "In so many ways. I won't forget this. Do you have a business card?"
"Of course," Rarity said, handing two to her—one representing herself, the other representing Carousel Boutique.
"Excellent," Coloratura said, stepping away. "I have somewhere to be now that I can get there safely. But you'll hear from me." Coloratura turned back, smiled, and winked. "And so will lots of other people once I'm done. See you later."
Rarity waved weakly, watching Coloratura make her exit with wide eyes and slack lips. "That was... I-I just helped..." she said, unable to form complete sentences.
It was Pinkie's turn to drape her arm around Rarity's shoulder. "You just helped a national pop star achieve her fashion dream! And one of yours, too."
"Perhaps there are perks to this non-stop grind after all," Rarity said, her voice faraway. "You never know when what you pick up will come in handy."
"Yup," Pinkie said. "And that's exactly what I always tell myself."
