"Goddammit!"

Tim'd smacked his hardwood brush's head against the bathroom sink's lips several times; the material splintering at the neck. His eyes clenched tightly shut, as thought after thought ravaged his brain as he'd finished packing his work clothes into a smiley-faced sack.

The woven bag, a gift from Cheerilee to have eased their awkward exchanges coming into the bakery, remained open atop his lidded toilet seat, almost readied for Tim to go. His khaki-tan apron jutted from the side of the gap, thrown haphazardly in a fit of rage. Tim opened his eyes, half-lid in hopes to see something different, someone else. Only to see his reflection's glare back. I really messed up this morning, Tim had idly supposed to himself with a sigh. Another fit of rage and at least a few items left in disrepair: checked and checked twice.

Just another day for Tim.

Another day and age, he'd have complimented Miss Fluttershy the moment he'd caught her gaze. Maybe on her hair or her eyes--a gentleness as if she was wont for it glistened behind them. He would have done something suave, but he hadn't seen the pink-maned pegasus since the whole cookie ordeal. Few hours ago, come to think. No surprise, I still hadn't even left for the bakery yet. He'd quickly shook his head to sober his thoughts, bringing them back to reality. His hand raised and the damaged brush found itself in his hair.

However, she didn't meet that Tim... she'd met the broken one in the mirror. The one a certain scarlet-haired whore had molded together with shit and string. If he had more friends, he would venture out a little and go hang out with them. Take another day off of work, maybe. Get his mind off of things a little more. However, his only other friend that wasn't in the same social-group as his ex, was of course still out of town. So, that was a nay-no on calling out for mental recovery reasons.

So for Tim, that had left him only a couple of options to work with, and neither was too pleasing for his mind's ears. Either he goes to work as he was or go to work drunk as shit.

He'd simply filed that issue in the back of his brain for later. ~~He hated how he's become, but there was nothing he could do.~~ Tim honestly wasn't too bothered by the matter at the moment; he'd known he was still an outsider, really. Only a handful of ponies could say they actually knew him, just the local baker-human--off Sundays and Mondays, and was usually at Trot-Shelf on said days with Ditzy and... anyway, Miss Fluttershy, well, she was a Filly Scout Leader. He'd figured she was simply busy and had other customers to try and sell cookies to. If only she knew how much love he had for Do-si-does--she'd never need another customer, that's for sure.

He'd need to actually pay for more next time, one box was good, but one box was one box. Cute mares are one thing, living the past is another, but cookies are a different topic entirely. Seriously, one box? He paused momentarily, the brush lowered to his ear. There it is again, the feeling that something was off with the whole situation entirely. No, from their initial meeting, Miss Fluttershy had seemed like the genuine article. He tsk'd as he raised the brush back to his scalp as if it were to have belayed those poisonous ideas from fully baking.

Though even with the notion, his mind had still traveled elsewhere.

He turned his head over to the side some, his hands guided the firm brush through his hair as he tidied up his own mussed-mane. The strands that curled back into place go unnoticed as Tim's eyes remained locked on themselves within his damaged reflection; through the other side of the looking glass. Though his stare was thousands of yards away as he pulled his curled hair back, though, this afternoon wasn't so bad, his thoughts had finally concluded. He did have a peanut-flutter distraction, after all.

He placed the comb on the sink's flat. Finally done with his... still mussed hair, he grabbed the loose bit of the apron and placed it the rest of the way in. With it closed, both hands held on the lip of the bag, he nodded. He was as ready as he was ever going to get.

A couple of extra days off of work never hurt anyone.

. . . . .

Tim had nearly stumbled into someone on the way through the bakery door.

The remainder of his trip to Sugarcube Corner was almost all but uneventful. No, just another mundane walk, all but that moment, really. None of the usual passersby struck any greetings, not that he also didn't bother to remember their names when they came in the shop; that's the cycle around here, the run of things from his point of view.

Thankfully, his route didn't take him by or even through her lane. No chance of him having accidentally disrupted the peace. He was pretty sure they'd all still be together, since herds, well, herd. In actuality, he was definitely glad there weren't any surprise confrontations--and that was a would-be-so if he'd have run into one or two problem-causing factors.

Luckily enough, the pony he'd nearly stumbled into was his blue-eye'd senior, so no complaints from him in that regard. Until he'd glanced to her face. Her literally saucer-wide eyes--which truly were offputting in retrospect--gave him an incidental scare and he took a step backward, startled. It wasn't a glare, but with Pinkie, who knew. He certainly didn't: "Pinkie, damn, I didn't even see you!" He spoke with a gasp, though her expression didn't change. Her pupils were trained on his very being, as if judgment forthcoming was being promised to him. Tim could almost feel it. For some reason, that did deter him a little from wanting to step fully into the sweet shop.

Tim took another step back when she inhaled sharply.

"WELL," Pinkie started off at an octave aptly overzealous in its volume--her giggle at the end eased him none, "I see YOU, mister!" As she finished, she'd straightened her posture and her left foreleg lifted in a snap. Her hoof indicated toward her still very-obtuse gaze and then to him.

A signal he's afraid he was well aware of. Pinkie would be stuck to his back like glue, and her eye on him for some reason today. Maybe because he called out and wasn't really sick? Maybe because he did show late today. The only way he'd figure it out would be to just don the apron and send himself back in to work. He'd gone up to step past Pinkie, but her body was purchased where she'd stood. Tim opened his mouth to ask a question, but a quick "hushushsh! Almost done," from her perturbed him more into silence. His pink compatriot remained as firm as a statue, and he blinked. Twice, in brief surprise.

In that scant amount of time, her eyes had either shrunk to a more normal size or he'd blinked and they were always normal. Finally, back to her doe-eyed self, she smiled widely up at the taller man. "'Kay, ready for work ol' chap?" Her brows floated above her head and he'd long since chosen to ignore physics/logic/reason around her.

He glanced back to the street and confirmed it was being utilized just enough for maybe a decent six-hour escapade. Ponies were mulling down and around the fountain before the Corner; talking about their days and enjoying the very essence of it all. He gave a small grin, somewhat glad to be back to reality. He turned back to Pinkie's awaiting ears, his lips still slightly tugged in the corners, "Yeah, uh hey, think we can add Doe-si-does to our roster?"

Pinkie let out her own surprised gasp, "and steal from the Filly Scouts, are you cookie-cookoo?!"

He throws his hands up in pseudo-defense, though he wouldn't let her know it did ease his mind to know the Filly Scouts were a real thing. "Hey, it was just a suggestion. Sorry you took so much offense." He lowered a hand and gave the mare a gentle pat. She purred as she almost melted under his touch, something he'd promptly stopped doing.

She shook her head with a wide smile. "Apology accepted, now boot your scoot and put it in boogie! We have a list of orders today, mister!" He stood too and threw a faux two-fingered salute before he was finally allowed entry into the Corner. His pink co-worker stepped inside and lollygagged her way back behind the counter she'd likely teleported from in the first place.

Tim gave a wry smile. It almost sort of felt good to actually be back to work already.

"Nice to see you back Tim!"

Until it didn't. Thunderlane decided to show face.

Author's Note

I'll put this through the wringer eventually. Maybe.