"Girlfriend?" I asked surprised at her tone of voice, "The way you said it... Does it mean he has troubles with women?"

She froze at the question, a personal question. I really had to get the question out. The letters fell to the ground and her hoof met her face and she sighed long and hard, "Maybe he is just not complicated enough for other women to like him or something. To be completely honest, I never saw him bring any Mare back home. Not even when he had the Privacy for it..."

I raised my eyebrow and she stood up to dust herself off, "What about your mother then?"

She sighed, "I have no clue who she might be... I think she ran away when I was small. Maybe she could not stand my Father or something... What about your parents?"

She turned to me, her eyes starting to get familiar with every eye-contact I must add.

"When I was six years old, my Dad straight up told me that I was adopted. That my real Parents were probably nice but had too much trouble raising a foal. I came to accept it. Sometimes he would bring his girlfriends who lived with us for a few months. All nice Mares and all. I liked them all but they just weren't compatible with my Father, " Was that too much information that I said?

Then it hit me, "Ey, where are your fathers sketches anyway? He is an Artist, right? Is he any good?"

"Hm? Yeah. He is... want to see his works?" she asked but guided me already to his office.

Yes, I was here before and I searched for a bit, but I did not get a good look at any of his pictures in the hurry. We entered the room and she got up to the walls, looking at his hanging Paintings. I went to his desk. It was messy. A really messy desk. Paper mountains lying on top of each other, Rulers and Pencils strewn over it all. A few tools have rolled off it already, probably lying there for a few months. Under all the junk you could make out the Table. The table was covered with newspapers to protect from paint. A big green lamp at the end to illuminate the workplace when Inspiration hits at night I guess.

What really intrigued me were the folders. A lot of them made of plastic with foils in them. Filled with drawings of simplistic characters, exchanging witty dialouge. These were the cartoons you saw in Newspapers and your typical Magazines. I found most of them unfunny or unoriginal. A lot were crossed out with red ink, murdered ideas spread across Papers. What is this, a collection of failed Artworks? I closed the first Folder and noticed something interesting. A few words at the end of it.

"Due to...," I started to say then saw the date. This wasn't even two weeks ago!

"Hey, Brushtip. What if your father is truly missing. Where should we look first?" I turned and asked her depressed ass.

Without turning around she mumbled, "I don't know..."

"Look at these folders for a second!" I wanted to make her understand that we might have had a clue.

"Those are just old submissions to the Newspapers. Why should I care?" she asked and bit her inner cheek. I licked my teeth and pointed at the date of the Folders, "Your Father worked on these for a short while and wrote down the deadline even.

"There was also a letter inside," I pulled out said letter, "This was the request for the theme of the motive, the date and the deadline are two weeks apart. And the Deadline itself is two weeks ago."

"So?" she wanted to know more... her eyes burning with anticipation.

"... So my guess is that he, as a hardworking Pony, never missed a deadline, right? But why would he now? This whole flat is also unused for atleast two weeks," I said.

"Yeah? What does that have to do with us?" I asked her.

"Why did we come here, BrushtiP? To drink tea with your old man? I came here to figure out the connection between our fathers. They seem to be friends at least."

"So our Fathers are friends, what does that mean in the end?"

I put the folder away and slowly moved out the room, beckoning her to come with me, "I tell ya. One thing comes to mind. We both are Devils and our fathers knew that. And they knew each other. Why should they not introduce us to each other?"

"Maybe they did but we can't remember? Your Dad played with me apparently when I was little," she countered.

"Yes maybe, but why would they break contact then!?" I wanted to know.

She shrugged simply, "Knowing my old man, he forgot" Her gaze became sharp and poisonous. If looks could kill I would have had the plague by now. What was her problem?

"Look here, missy. Do you want to find your father again?"

"I am sure he is alright!"

"We need to assume the worst. We are Devils, it is a blessing nobody noticed that all of our lives. But what if somebody did? They might have taken your father for some reason," I told her.

Her eyes shrunk and she runs past behind me, "C'mon we need to go to his Publisher!"

"Why the Publisher?" I inquired.

"The Publisher is closer to him than even me," she said with an annoyed Tone.

"Are you jealous or what?" I asked amused. She sighed but didn't elaborate any further. It was a sad thought. A random thought entered my head where her Father would go out of his way to organize a big Birthday Party for his awesome Publisher. The whole firm but on the day she had her Birthday. It was ridiculous but now I felt some sort of Empathy for her.

Author's Note

Some what if pictures from the past.