The New... Pony?

by thatoneguyisbestpony

Rating: teen
Tags: Profanity, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Human, Original Character
Length: 5339

The new guy at work isn’t a guy or even a human. Can a pony even do construction work?

The new guy at work isn’t a guy or even a human. Can a pony even do construction work?

Rated teen for profanity and innuendo typical of construction workers. Construction workers will mock literally anything in good fun without meaning any actual ill intent.

Written for Admiral Biscuit’s Working Ponies “Not-a-Contest”.

Incomplete tag because I have no idea if there’ll be another chapter, but there’s a non-zero chance.

Cover art: https://www.deviantart.com/silvervectors/art/Dust-Devil-318551424

Published 2019-11-17 02:40:01 UTC
Last updated 2019-12-12 23:02:01 UTC

Monday, 6/25/18

“We’re supposed to be getting that new guy today, right?” I asked after finishing my sausage biscuit. Our crew was sitting in the connex, going over the plans for the day’s work.

“Yeah,” Robbie said, “supposed to be transferring locals from Philadelphia. I think they said his name is Dustin. I’ll probably have him work with you, that way Mike can be ground man for both of you. Keep him busy, you know?”

“Gotcha. Anything in particular I need to hit today or am I just plugging along at the VAV duct?”

“Just keep at that. I’ve got Daniel for the small stuff.”

Daniel spoke up, “Steve and I are still working on flashing for the wall penetrations.”

I checked my watch, huffed out a breath, and stood up. “Well, let’s get going then.”

We had all started gearing up in our fashionable reflective vests and hardhats when a feminine voice drifted in, “Is this the sheet metal workers’ office?”

“Uh huh, you can tell by all the spiral pipe on the racks. What do you ne…?” My voice caught as I turned to look at the… pony. She was a pale greenish gray with motorcycle goggles perched on her dirty blonde mane. And she had wings. I stood there for a few seconds with my mouth hanging open, waiting for my brain to pop back into gear.

She smirked, “First time meeting a pony? Name’s Dust Devil, but most people just call me ‘Dusty’.” Her hooves clip-clopped as she walked up and offered me a hoof, which I shook. She had metal horseshoes that looked like they clipped on instead of using nails.

“Um, yeah, sorry. I hadn’t even seen one of y’all in person before and it doesn’t help that I haven’t had enough caffeine this morning either. I’m James, nice to meet you. So, what do you need?”

“Some plans, materials, and a place to start working.”

“Wait a second,” Robbie interjected. “you’re the new guy? I thought they said it was a guy named Dustin from Philadelphia.”

“I’m the new mare, Dusty, from Fillydelphia, but I can see the confusion. They probably sound the same on the phone. Anyways, let me know what to do so I can get to work. This is my first job on Earth and I want to see how humans do HVAC.”

Robbie looked around like he was expecting someone to yell “gotcha!” but no one did. I was just as shocked, an adorable little alien horse was planning on doing construction work? It’s rare enough to see a human female on a jobsite unless they’re a painter or work in the office but at least they have hands.

Robbie sighed. “Ok, you’ve got to go to safety orientation first, so you can give your tools to Tree Branch since he’s driving the truck.” He paused and gave her another skeptical look, “You do have your own tools right?”

“Of course, I left them on my bike until I knew where to take them.” She turned and walked out of the connex.

We followed as she approached a Suzuki SV650 with beat up leather saddlebags. Before I could offer to help she grabbed the bags with her teeth, tossed them up in the air, and they landed neatly on her back. Usually when horses wear saddlebags, they sit behind the saddle on their rump but for some reason Dusty wore hers up in front of her wings on her shoulders. Are they still called shoulders on a pony? And just how the hell does a pony ride a motorcycle? I tried to stop thinking to avoid the impending headache.

Dusty asked where the truck was, dumped her bags in the bed, and followed Robbie to the GC’s (general contractor’s) trailer.

“What are you guys waiting for?” I asked. “Get in the truck.”

Daniel said, “Take Mike and Steve, I’ll get the second trip. I need to grab some hardware.”

I drove Mike and Steve out to the hangar, told Mike to carry Dusty’s tools over to where we’d be working, and went back for Daniel.

“Do they really expect us to work with a fucking pony?” Daniel asked as he sat down in the truck. I glanced over at him to see him scowling.

“It seems like it. Do you have a problem with that?”

“Yeah. I don’t trust them. They come through a damn portal, invading our world, using freaky magic and shit, and we’re just supposed to accept that they have good intentions? For all we know they’re gathering intel and biding their time to influence or take over our world. When’s the last time you saw a movie with aliens appearing on Earth that were genuinely benevolent?”

I actually couldn’t think of one.

“This is real life, not a fucking movie, dipshit. You really think a bunch of colorful, fluffy ponies are gonna take over the Earth?”

“You never know, that magic they have can do just about anything. What if they have a much bigger population than they let on and come through that portal with an army? We’ve seen their rulers put up a shield that can stop bullets, what can we do against that?

I felt my eyebrows trying to join with my hairline. “Dude, you are so paranoid it’s not even funny. I feel sorry for you if that’s all you can think of instead of the amazing advancements we can make with our technology and their magic.”

“Whatever, I’m gonna keep an eye on her.” He huffed and slammed the door behind him.

I rolled my eyes, “You go right ahead but don’t be a dick about it. That’d be a real good way to get laid off.”

After dropping the bigot off at his side of the hangar, I parked the truck and walked into 'Area B' where Dusty, Mike, and I would be working. Mike had the gang box open and was pulling out tools and setting them on our cart. I grabbed my tool belt , shut the box, and we headed off to start working.

“So, are you racist against ponies too?” I asked Mike.

“What? No! Dude, ponies are cool!” He exclaimed.

I arched an eyebrow. I hadn’t expected him to have a problem with them since he was only a few years younger than me and our generation is pretty open to new things, but I hadn’t expected that level of enthusiasm either. I, personally, thought that the entire idea of a race of sapient creatures so vastly different than us was immensely interesting but I still couldn’t resist needling him about it. I smirked, “Seriously? I’d’ve expected a reaction like that from an eight year old girl.”

“Hey,” he said defensively, “they come here by magic from a place we never knew existed, some can fly, some use magic, and some seem to make plants grow just by touching and talking to them. Not to mention they’re all fluffy and colorful and cute…” He trailed off with his eyes widening, looking at me in horror at what he just let slip.

You learn pretty quick in this line of work to avoid saying things that give people ammunition to use to make fun of you. I smiled evilly to let him know he wouldn’t hear the end of that for a while. “Cute, huh? Like puppies and kittens cute or more like attractive cute?”

He blushed. Wow, I was just trying to mess with him but that was a dead giveaway. “Let’s put a pin in that so we can get to work,” I said, snickering. “But I’m gonna need you to keep it in your pants while you’re on the clock.”

Mike groaned, “Yeah, sure. Just tell me what you need me to do, asshole.”

“Alright, I’m setting the hangers for the square duct. Could you go ahead and knock together some ten foot sections?”

“On it.”

I was almost done with the hangers when Dusty trotted in fuming. “I can’t believe you humans can work with all these horseshit safety rules!” she snapped. I didn’t know ponies cursed. It was a bit jarring coming from something that looked like it should be in a kids’ cartoon. At least it meant I didn’t have to modify my speech around her like I would with most women or non-construction workers.

“What,” I asked, “ponies don’t have to wear hardhats or reflective vests?” She actually did look kind of adorable in hers, especially with her motorcycle goggles on.

“No, we do and I’m fine with that. It’s the rules about safety harnesses and tying off that are so fucking stupid. They said that even though I can fly there are no exceptions to the rules. So I have to wear a harness anytime I go above six feet. It apparently doesn’t matter that I regularly fly a few thousand feet up. I don’t even think I can fly at all if I have a fall arrest system hooked up. The cable would get in the way of my wings while I’m flapping.”

“Yeah,” I said, “OSHA’s a bitch. I can see where the GC is coming from, though. OSHA requires fall arrest equipment and you guys are so new that I doubt anyone there has even considered amending the regulations to address pegasi, so the GC could still get a fine if you got caught not wearing one. They don’t really care about safety as much as they care about covering their own asses.”

She sighed, “Makes sense, but it still pisses me off.”

“And speaking of covering asses, I’m amazed that they didn’t make you wear pants or something. We humans aren’t allowed to wear shorts or tank tops because they’re scared of us getting cut or burned.”

“I managed to convince them that my coat is protection enough and that any more clothing than this vest would make me overheat too easily.”

“Hmph, I wish they’d accept that excuse for my leg hair so I could wear shorts.” I grumbled and then asked “How much do you know about human ductwork?”

“I know you use technology instead of magic to heat and cool the air and also to make it flow. I don’t know how that works, but it seems that most of your methods of building and connecting duct are similar to ours. We use a similar flange and bolt hookup to this one,” she pointed to a pile of TDF duct, then to a pile of S and Drive duct “and the exact same slip connections as those.”

“Well,” I said, “that makes things a lot simpler. Although, and I’m not sure how to say it delicately so don’t get offended, how do you use tools without hands?

“Like this.” She looked at the duct Mike was working on, slid it together, picked up a drive cleat with one wing (just like it was a hand), lined it up, and knocked it into place with a few solid whacks of her horseshoe. Once it was seated, she again used her hoof to hammer the ends around the edges of the duct. “And I can use snips and a drill just as easily. For construction work, I’m like a human but with four arms.”

“I sure as hell hope more of you don’t come over to our world to do construction work, because I’m not sure we can compete with that. Get your harness on and hop up in the lift with me. We’ll hang the duct as Mike hands it to us.”

As we worked, we chatted about the difference between Earth and Equestria. They had a much lower population than us and that resulted in a small town atmosphere in all but the very biggest cities. Dusty was amazed by our technology, but I was just as amazed by all they managed to do without it. They made their weather in factories and then pushed it to wherever they needed it. Their rulers were damn near gods that literally raised the sun and moon and Dusty was fascinated by smartphones?! We eventually circled back to the topic of work and how our worlds handled HVAC.

“Wait, so y’all’s air conditioning is literally captured mini tornadoes and clouds in a box?!” I was holding the duct in place while she screwed the hangers to it.

“Uh huh, and they both last about a month so we have a servicepony that makes rounds to refill them. Kind of like a milkmare. The tornado comes in a metal box so you have to open an access panel and swap the boxes out, but the cloud comes in a bottle and you just have to pour it into the cloud bank reservoir. Then the tornado blows air through the duct and it gets cooled off as it passes through the cloud.”

“What about heating?”

“Fireplaces. So how do humans manage to heat and cool the air?”

“It’s a bit more complicated than your system. Mike, I need the next piece.” He handed us a section with an elbow, straight piece, and a square to round. “On a basic level, we use a liquid refrigerant that travels through pipes, absorbing heat from the air in one place and releasing it in another. You lined up?” I asked as I held up the duct.

“Yep.” she ran bolts through the holes in the corners of the flange and tightened them up while I attached the hangers. She looked thoughtful, “I need to take a class on that. At some point ponies are going to start adopting human tech and if I have enough knowledge in human HVAC, then I’ll be able to advance pretty quickly back home. The whole reason I came to Earth was to expand on what I knew and see if anything you guys do would work for us. I’ve got a foremare job waiting for me when I get back and with this experience I’ll be able to work my way up or maybe even start my own company.”

“Wow, ambitious much?”

She stuck her tongue out.

“Hey, Tree Branch,” Mike called, “it’s 11:30 and I’m hungry.”

“Me too, let’s take break.” I climbed out of the lift, shucked off my harness, and grabbed my lunch bag.

While I was building my sandwich Dusty asked, “Didn’t you say your name was James this morning?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Mike called you 'Tree Branch' and I was wondering why. It sounds like an Equestrian name.”

“Oh that,” I said. It wasn’t that I had anything against the name itself; I just preferred my actual name. “One of the pipefitters started calling me that because of my tattoo and it kind of stuck.” I held up my right forearm so she could see the sleeve of trees all the way around it.

“That’s funny because most ponies’ names end up having some sort of relation to their cutie marks too.”

“A ‘cutie mark’?” I asked. “Is that what y’all call your ass tattoos?”

“Yep,” she turned around and pulled her vest up with her wing to uncover her hip and the three cartoon tornadoes on it. Mike blushed again and choked on his Dr. Pepper. I suppressed a grin and smacked him on the back (hard) a few times while Dusty looked on curiously. “We get them when we discover what our special talent is. Mine symbolizes my talent for creating and controlling wind. I can make little twisters that move exactly the way I want them to.”

I couldn’t help it, I cracked up. Dusty glared at me, “Are you laughing at me?”

“No, no.” I gasped, trying to catch my breath. “It’s just that I have that talent too. I can create lots of wind and all I have to do is eat a couple burritos.”

She facepalmed with her wing (or would that be facewinged?) then smacked me upside the head with it, knocking my hardhat across the room. “Ha ha ha, very mature. So humans call their cutie marks ‘tattoos’? What do yours mean? I’d heard that humans don’t get them since they don’t have magic but you have two.”

“Ours aren’t magical. People sometimes get them for deep, personal reasons but some just get them because they look cool. They’re just made of ink that’s injected underneath the skin. I got the trees because I like the way it looks, but I got the pawprint because I love my dog. It’s an exact replica of his paw.”

“Huh, maybe I could get one and be the first pony with a tattoo. Though if it’s only on the skin my coat would probably cover it up. What about you Mike?”

He looked up from his food with wide eyes at being addressed by the pony. “What‽ Oh, uh, no I don’t have any.” He looked back down and stuffed some chips in his mouth.

Dusty looked a bit taken aback by his reaction. “Did I say something wrong? Is it impolite to ask people if they have tattoos if they aren’t visible?”

I smirked, “No, you’re fine. Mike is just being a bit shy which is odd because he normally won’t shut up. You know, if I didn’t know better I’d say that he’s acting like someone would around someone they thought was cute but was afraid to talk to them.”

Mike’s head shot up and he glared at me with panic and rage in his eyes.

“That’d be a shame,” Dusty said contemplatively, “because it’s possible that in that scenario the answer would be yes if the person had the courage to say something.”

My jaw dropped. Mike looked like someone had caught him in the head with a baseball bat. “What?” he sputtered.

“I don’t know anything about human nightlife or what you do for fun around here. Seems to me like going on a date would be a pretty good way to find out. Not to mention that I kind of like to experiment.” She fluttered her eyelashes.

That had me blushing. “I’m going to go find a bathroom and leave you two to talk.” I announced as I exited the room and the conversation.

When I got back they were chatting about Equestria as if nothing had happened.

“…works for the weather factory making snowflakes and Mom is a Cloudsdale police officer. I found my special talent one day when Dad let me come to work with him and gave me a tour. What about your parents?”

“Mom’s a teacher and Dad drives UPS delivery trucks.” Mike said. “Mom wanted me to go to college, but I like working with my hands so they suggested I try to join a trade that provides its own schooling.”

“Alright, let’s get back to work, you weirdo lovebirds.” I called. Mike blushed again and Dusty chucked a half empty water bottle at my head.

We spent the rest of the day working and learning more about each other’s worlds. I was starting to think that I may need to visit Equestria. For someone who isn’t a fan of crowds but likes to see new things it seemed like the place to be. Dusty was pretty cool too and I was actually looking forward to work tomorrow to be able to talk some more.

I guessed Mike wouldn’t have to wait that long though.

Author's Note

This is the first fanfic I’ve written, hell, the first story I’ve written in at least 12 years since being forced to in school. Please, please leave constructive criticism if you have any. Though I would like to point out that the main character and I are from Oklahoma and as this story is in 1st person I thought it was fitting for the narration to be in an Oklahoman dialect. Sorry if that’s a bit jarring but some of the grammatical errors are intentional.

Story notes.

Wednesday, 6/27/18

As I was tooling along I-240 on the way into work, I was passed by a pony on a motorcycle. I hadn’t actually seen Dusty ride it yet and it was a bizarre, but graceful, sight. Her mane and tail were flowing in the wind and she had her wings stretched forward, resting over her hooves on the handlebars. I ended up behind her at the stoplight after our exit and watched as she started flapping her wings when she stopped the bike. It took me a minute to realize that she was doing so for balance, since her legs were too short to reach the ground. I suppose that’s why she had a small, lightweight motorcycle.

When we got to the jobsite, I parked beside her, got out, and asked, “How in the hell do you manage to ride that? I’m pretty sure it wasn’t designed with ponies in mind.”

Dusty reached a wingtip into a small pouch that was ziptied to the frame and pulled out a broad-toothed comb and began running it through her tail. “I had it customized. There’s a company that modifies human vehicles so that ponies can use them. The grips are shaped so that I can use them with hooves and they installed a different shift lever because it’s easier to press forward and backward than up and down.” She finished with her tail and moved to her mane. “I have to use my wings for the clutch and brake levers though. It’s a weird position to be in and it took a couple weeks to get used to it.”

I eyed her wings as she turned to put her comb away and grab her lunchbox. “But you can fly; why even bother with the bike?”

She leveled a deadpan stare at me. “You can walk; why do you bother with the truck?”

“Oh. Yeah, that was a stupid question.” I hadn’t really considered that flying could be a boring, mundane chore if you had to do it every day, especially if it takes a lot of effort.

We walked over to the connex where Robbie was unlocking the door.

“There are other reasons, too,” Dusty admitted. “The BAE told me that there was a five mile no fly zone around Tinker, so I couldn’t fly in if I wanted to. Besides, motorcycles are fun. Flying is a little more exciting, but you have to put in the effort and the really fun stuff wears you out quickly.”

I nodded, “Makes sense.”

“Does ‘bae’ mean something other than boyfriend or girlfriend in, what’s it called, ponyland?” Robbie asked.

Dusty cocked her head to the side a bit, “Is that what it means? That explains a couple of odd looks I’ve gotten when I mentioned it before.” She shook her head, “No, it doesn’t mean anything at all in Equestria. It’s a department in your government, the Bureau for Acclimating Equestrians. It recently formed to help ponies fit in to your world more smoothly. They helped me get in touch with the union and handled some of the paperwork to get my driver’s license.” She followed Robbie into the connex.

“Oh, so they’re the ones who saddled us with this freak.” Daniel muttered from behind me. I was between him and Dusty and even though I barely caught it, one of her ears swiveled towards him. I hoped she hadn’t heard him clearly enough to make it out. By the way she continued talking to Robbie, I don’t think she did.

I turned around, stepped all up into Daniel’s personal space, and whispered, “Dude, chill the fuck out. It’s way too damned early to have to listen to your shit.”

“It’s the truth,” Daniel growled. “They’re definitely not normal, so ‘freak’ is pretty accurate.”

“I said I don’t want to hear it. Go bitch about it online or something.” I turned and walked into Robbie’s office. Daniel stayed outside.

“…in the safety meeting today,” Robbie said.

“Sorry, had to go grab something. What were you saying about the safety meeting?” I asked. I couldn’t interpret the look Dusty was giving me.

“Just that I would see what I can do to get an exception for Dusty to fly and skip tying off.” He poked her in the wing, “Once we get to the seventy-eight inch round duct, these things are gonna be useful.”

“And I’m not useful now? That’s racist.”

He lightly punched her shoulder. “Shut up! You know what I mean.”

“Maybe you should ask the BAE if they can contact someone from OSHA for you,” I suggested. “They should be able to swing a lot more weight than the GC’s safety guy.”

“Good idea; I’ll call them at break time.”

***

“Hi, my name is Dust Devil. I wanted to know if you could help me contact someone from OSHA…” Dusty was apparently one of those people (or ponies, I need a more inclusive word) who pace when they talk on the phone, except she paced in the air.

I turned to Mike who was watching her fly back and forth. “So, did you two go on a date last night?”

“No, I had other plans already and I can’t tonight because I have to go to class.” He pulled out his phone and fiddled with it for a bit. “I was thinking about taking her to a movie tomorrow night. The Jurassic World sequel came out last week and I don’t think that’d be a bad introduction to our world’s movies. What do you think?”

“I hear it isn’t great, but if she doesn’t have anything else to compare it to, the CGI will probably make up for a weak plot,” I answered as I looked back up at Dusty. Or, at least, looked where she had been.

“That was pretty much my reas…aargh!” Mike fell backwards with a scream as she dropped to the ground right in front of him.

Once she managed to stop laughing, Dusty offered him a hoof and pulled him back up.

“What’d the BAE say?” I asked through continued snickers.

“I ended up talking to their law specialist, Due Diligence. I told him all my issues with harnesses and he agreed that pegasi should be excluded from those regulations since falling isn’t much of a problem for us. He’s going to find out who I need to talk to in OSHA and give me their email address.” She glanced at her phone and sighed. “And I wasted all my break time on the phone. I suppose we need to get back to work.”

Author's Note

I am going to try to keep this going, though I will make no promises as to the frequency or regularity of updates. Thank you for reading.

Also, it might just be me, but a gov't agency called the "bae" is flippin funny. As best as I can tell, there is no real BAE for it to be confused with.

Friday, 6/29/18

“I’m gonna need some more sealer sometime soon. By the way, where are we going for lunch today?” Mike asked.

“Wherever. I don’t give a crap.” I dug through the pile of materials to find a bucket of pookie, then said, “Dusty, I forgot to tell you that we get an hour for lunch on Fridays. Usually we all go to the same place. Do you want to come with us?”

“I haven’t been here long enough to know what human restaurants are like,” Dusty answered from up in the lift. “I know you guys eat a lot of meat, is that what most restaurants serve?”

“So alien horses are still vegetarians, huh? And here I was starting to think that ponies weren’t all that different from us. You ready for the next piece of pipe?”

“Give me a minute; I’ve got to set this hanger.” She marked the correct height on the hanger strap, cut it, and fastened it in a loop. “Yeah, pass it up.”

I handed her ten feet of eight inch spiral pipe, which she slid through the loop and started to connect to the rest of the run.

“Most ponies are vegetarians, but a few of us eat some types of meat occasionally,” she explained. “A lot of pegasi will eat fish, crustaceans, and small birds because… Get. The hell. In there. Bitch!” She was having a bit of difficultly sliding the pipe onto the coupler.

“I could give you a hand with that if you need it,” I suggested in my most condescending tone. Mike laughed.

“Oh fuck off,” Dusty snapped as she hit the duct with her horseshoe, freeing it to slide into place. “Anyways, we eat those because flying requires lots of energy and protein and historically many pegasi have lived along coasts or in cloud cities over the sea so that was the most accessible food. Personally, I like the idea that pegasi have some eagle or griffon blood way back in the family tree.”

“There’s a Cajun place up on Sooner and they’ve got catfish and shrimp,” Mike said. “Otherwise she’s probably stuck with a Subway sandwich without meat.”

“I don’t feel like Subway anyways,” I replied. “Cajun it is.”

***

“Umm, Tree Branch? Is she okay?” Mike waved his hand in front of Dusty’s face while she sat, wide eyed and frozen in place.

I reached out and patted her on the cheek a few times to get her attention.

“Sweet Celestia,” she breathed, “is all human food this good? It’s hot and crispy and a bit spicy and mmmmm…” Words turned to an almost sexual moan of pleasure and her eyes closed halfway as she stuffed a hush puppy into her mouth.

"No, only the unhealthy stuff is this good." My own catfish basket was proof that humans were not designed to be fueled by leaves, tree bark, and rainbows. "Any food can be improved by breading and frying it. Don't they cook that way in Equestria?"

It took her a few seconds to swallow enough of her food to speak. "We have a plethora of sweets: cakes, pies, donuts, candy, and on and on. But most of our actual meals tend to be healthy and kinda bland. Don't get me wrong, I like a good daffodil sandwich or hayburger, but they're kinda boring. Really flavorful meals tend to be from cultures on the outer edges of Equestria. My favorites are sushi and Manipuri food."

"Manifoor foo?" Mike mumbled through his mouthful of po' boy.

"It's a type of food from a region off to the west. Lots of spicy curries," she explained before finishing her shrimp.

Mike swallowed, "Sounds kinda like Indian food. We've got some restaurants that may be similar and they always have lots of vegetarian options. Wanna go to one this weekend?"

I snorted. "Smooth, Mike."

"Shut up, jackass." He kicked my shin.

"Ow, you son of a bitch!" I laughed

Dusty interrupted our "fight" by throwing a fry at both of our faces. "Sounds good; I'll text you tomorrow. You guys ready to leave?"

"Yeah," I sighed as I stood up. "If we have to. You're riding in the bed of the truck though, Dusty."

"What, why?" she asked indignantly.

I raised my eyebrows. "Well, it might have something to do with you shooting your wings out and blocking my view when that car pulled out in front of us on the way here." We'd taken the job truck to lunch, so we'd been sitting three across on the bench seat with her in the middle at the time.

"It was instinct," she blushed. "I tried to slow myself down so I wouldn't hit the car."

"And that's why my instincts are telling me that it'd be safer for the mobile blindfold to sit in the back where she isn't as dangerous. Besides, there's more room there."

"Ok, that's fair." She flapped a couple times and dropped into the bed.

Author's Note

I haven't actually been to this restaurant, but people have told me it's good.

Story notes