It's Always The Quiet Ones.

Rarity recoiled in disgust. Humourlessly, each broken taboo seemed to impact on her brow, twitching in nervous agitation.
"W...w... why I've never met an o...officer that was so c...crass, and I...impudent as yourself!"

Rarity backed gingerly from the splintering door, eyes stricken, for this was the first time it seemed that she had suffered anything near verbal abuse.

" Y...you should know, monster, that as a t...true lady I am correct to..."

"Correct to do what princess". Frank drew a concealed bottle of dandelion wine from a near cupboard and drained half it's contents in a matter of seconds. It was shit stuff he had thought to himself, more dandelion than wine, as he had to buy it in cases to get anywhere near drunk.

"You goin to call the police on me? No one else in here."

He elbowed the door, which impacted on the neighbouring wall, revealing the discoloured mess of paper and worn furniture.
Rarity took her chance to cause some hurt, so as to console herself later on.

"Just as I thought, you live like a filthy animal! " She placed a hoof on the mat and squared over, pretending to examine it. A callous smile flickered over her, and split her face into a grin.
"Why, I've no doubt you have vermin living in there, perhaps even your own kind, after all your bladder doesn't seemed to have held together, why should your decor!"

She was of course referring to the black ink-stain that covered Frank's trousers. Rarity wasn't to know what human urine looked like .A vein ticked in his head and his eyes locked to hers. Rarity almost whinnied, but held her cruel gaze.

"Tell you what princess" Frank said through a chuckle. Then threw the bottle faster than Rarity could predict into the station, exploding on the far wall, which rained down glass and wine.

"Since you can't be getting on with me, how's about callin up another outpost, for whatever kind of jewelled stick ya got rammed up ya filly."

Frank thrust an arm into the dark trousers, and produced a mobile. Punching the numbers, it started to dial. Rarity looked at the alien device with arrogance, as Frank made a conservative effort to cage the beast.

"Just speak into here, when you hear the click, and spill your guts."

No sooner than Frank had relayed the instruction, Rarity snatched the Nokia out from his hand, with the aid of a violet aura. The phone floated parallel to her tensed head, by chance lining up to the correct position of usage. The receiver clicked, and a wave of snobbery overcame the otherwise pretty creature.

"Officer...officer, my cat, Opal the darling has gone missing, and this degenerate creature will not be graced with the task of..."

Frank picked up the second mobile that lay on a side table and raised it noiselessly to his reddened features. He deftly licked his lips.

" LEAVE OFF, YOU POMPOUS MONG!

Rarity shrieked and bucked into the air, slipping over and away from the porch. Her ears twisting spasmodically, temporary deafness was immediate via the throaty southern yell, that rung from two directions of hearing.

"Horrid..." Rarity's white coat streaked away into the night, her eyes balling up. "Horrid...horrid..."

Frank picked up the mobile from the muddy ground and tossed it in a drawer. The door very noticeably now had a piece missing, namely the top left panel, but this didn't prevent Frank from slamming it a second time.

He laughed to himself, but not for long. Through the hole he saw house lights begin to flicker on, and detected a barely audible murmur of sleepy irritation. And prejudice no doubt. Frank swore under his breath, unbuckling his trousers and wrestling onto a bare mattress, crammed between a fridge and blocked sink.

"That was too much wasn't it." He swore under his breath and rubbed his forehead, turning over on what passed for a bed. A key component to being an effective officer was to establish a trust with the community, regardless of any time constraints or personal needs. In that one action he had just severed his duty of care to Ponyville, and as much as its inhabitants annoyed him, shirking responsibility had never been his style.

Frank looked up at the watermarks on the ceiling. He would have liked if Rarity's snobbery had been the product of an underlying hatred, that all pony's held an inflexible perception of love and toleration as a cure-all solution. But Frank's cardinal virtue was honesty, not unlike a certain apple-bucking pony.

He was well aware that his rough edges brought out the worst in people, as well as ponies it would seem. He was also well aware that the last look in Rarity's eyes had been proof of her innermost desire for good. Frank cleared his throat, forcing his eyes shut. Even good intentions were more than what he was producing so far. Perhaps tomorrow he'd fare better. On the job at least.

"YOU DID WHAT!"

Celestia slams her perfect hooves, upon the gold leaf desk, flipping neatly ribboned scrolls end to end across the marble floor.

Let me freeze it there for a second. You know, even without a magic, typewriter gimmick, I'm thinkin I'm still quite suited to take down the days events as they come. Always been one of them visual thinkers. My head teacher used to say my memory never seemed to fail me, most probably cause I always had an excuse for everything. I only bring this up because the scene was reminiscent of those school days, only that I'm not a small kid anymore, but in this case the teacher is. A little girl playing castle, without a head for what her people really needed. Old story, new species. We both sit there, squaring off on one another.

Celestia gazes with red tinted eyes. There's nothing sinister about it, she's been up all night reading, though admittedly not by choice (complaint reports fill the entirety of her inbox, and she hasn't seemed to have made a dent in it.) She does her best to hold her own, and we stay sitting in the same fashion, though I'm more comfortable as unlike her, I take my opportunities to put my feet up, albeit on desks. Now if I were a PONY the matter would probably mean me being banished to the moon, or whatever astrological body her highness felt appropriate. But I'm not a pony. I'm Frank-'Sodding'-Parkland, and my boss has quite clearly stated that she has limited jurisdiction over beings of the 'other-plane'. Now I make it a rule not to piss people off without good reason, but then it's not my fault if I have ninety-seven good reasons in one fortnight.
Her muzzle flares, producing small wisps of coloured steam, but I hold my own, donning my (fathers) fedora, then moving to turn up my trench-coat's brown sleeves. Yeah, they were my only clean clothes, but the effect, if a little dated, reels in the women back home.

"PARKLAND!"
"YOU CRIPPLED A MAJOUR TRADE ROUTE PARKLAND,..."

Her voice shakes, she's not used to being angry, but she's getting the hang of it. Fast.

"... I have eighteen witnesses all confirm that they saw you singled-handedly destroy eight tonnes of PUBLIC, PROPERTY."

I re-cross my legs and tilt the fedora back across my head, lest it set alight from the now deeply crimson mane that blusters around my bosses head.

"The suspect was getting away alright Babs, the bridge had to come down."
"YOU FLATTENED A FISHING TRAWLER!"

"Regrettable, but there was no-one in it."

Celestia comes across confused.
"What was that!"

My eyes must have rolled to the back of my head.

"Oh,...right...'NOPONY', was in it."
Celestia clasps her fore-hooves to her head, and unleashes an audible growl.

"This is fast getting out of hand, Parkland."

"You mean out of 'hoof'."

"I KNOW WHAT I MEAN!"

"Well Celsest, can I call you Celsest?, perhaps it's time you assigned more pony's from this solider-set of yours, cos as much as I like playing Sheriff of Nottingham, you know that this isn't going to work without an actual... well...force.
I swivel in my seat to point at the two attendant guards in armour, some thirty feet away by the gargantuan office room doors.

"Are you seriously saying you can't even spare 'Wingus' and 'Dingus' over there, because there's talking big Celstia and then there's just lying."

I remember putting my feet down and leaning in close over that piece of immaculate decor, of which could have fed an entire family for a year. Our faces, worlds apart, were barely a few inches from one another.

"And I don't work well with liars."