Last Stop on the Mail Route

It's been a couple days since we've gotten back from Canterlot, and I think Derpy is doing better now that we're slowly shifting back into that old groove, the worries of how the career fair played out fading. With Dinky visiting me after her school if I'm not working late with Rarity, I try to time my hours around the kid, but this kind of work is very free-form and primarily dictated by Rarity's schedule. Sometimes, I come home to Dinky already inside napping on the couch or using my living room as a hangout with a variable number of the little crusader kids in tow.

Can't remember if I told her where the spare key was, or if she found it. Not like it really matters, I'm not having the kids wait for me outside when I live this close to the Everfree. Just more proof she's a weirdly clever filly.

Now that I think about it, Dinky rarely comes over alone anymore. Although it's a coin flip if Applebloom can get away from her chores or Sweetie doesn't have to head home to study. Sometimes, Sweetie trails me from Rarity's place to hang out with the others.

Scootaloo is almost a guarantee to come over now, the sight of purple and orange fur of Dinkster and Scoots a constant when I get home most days, as are the chances they've ripped into the snacks in my pantry. I don't mind, obviously, but I'm just glad that Dinky isn't waiting alone for me or anything. They all seem to get along pretty well, though I see Scootaloo perks up significantly whenever I get back. As does Dinky, of course, but I'm just relieved Scootaloo doesn't seem to have been affected by that time in the mountains. Still chipper and cheeky as ever.

Derpy visits me during her lunch breaks since she's the more mobile of the two of us. It's not always right at noon, with how her routes often have her running a little later, but Rarity is very easy-going with when I take mine as long as the work is getting done.

Since we're trying to save up bits again after all of that egregious Canterlot spending, we've been going back to one of our houses to make something simple to eat, depending on whose got the better stocked fridge that day. Just... being with each other, making simple lunch meals or prepping something the night before that we could have together the next day. It's been nice, having those quiet moments together while Dinky is still at school, giving us some time to be together and chat about our day.

Derpy has also gotten a lot more... physical. Touch and physical connection was already something we both had a shared connection in, but I think the Canterlot trip meant a lot to her. Now, she sits as close as she can to me at most times, so at least some part of us is touching. A wing is usually draped over me if she can't press up against me herself, and I find she stares at me more often. When she picks up Dinky from my place after work, she takes some time to sit with me on the couch, watching the fillies play for a while.

Even thought it'd only been for a weekend, it feels odd not being with her the full day now. Waking up, and she isn't there. Just me, alone in my house. Knowing she has work and only seeing her during lunch, or when she comes by afterwards. Makes me want the weekend to come so much faster, so I can actually just come over and see her the full day again.

Going back the usual routine of seeing each-other when we can... It's fine, but I won't lie about the odd feelings I have when I'm sitting alone inside my house, when everyone has piled out of my living room.

It would probably eat at me a lot more than it does, if it wasn't for one little oddity. I'm not quite as alone as I expected to be.

Scootaloo asked if she could start sleeping over, crashing on the couch. Wasn't really sure what to say about it, but I know the kids got kind of a weird home life. When I asked if she meant if she could have a sleepover with the other girls, she shook her head. She told me she's been having nightmares. About what happened on the mountains. Haven't felt my heart drop like that in a while, so, now I've got an orange fuzzball sleeping on the couch and eating my dinners.

Even when Derpy swings by to pick up Dinky and to help shoo the other crusader kids home, or when I drop Dinky off at Derpy's for her and stay to say hello for a few minutes, sitting im my own, empty bed has me staring at the ceiling in muted thought. I can hear Scootaloo's hooves on the floor in the night, as she quietly paces the house. I think she's checking on me to see if I'm still here, heading back to the couch when she's confirmed I haven't gone anywhere. Started sleeping with the door open after that, and checking on her when I get up in the middle of the night for a piss. Wish I knew who to talk to about this, but I don't know who Scootaloo is related to. Maybe Cheerilee can offer some insight? I'll have to ask her at some point. She's a surprisingly thoughtful little... roommate? Though I am worried that nobody is really asking after her.

Either way, as odd as this week is being, I wouldn't say it's bad. I've got a date planned for this weekend with Derpy. Well, not really a date, but... I'm going over to make breakfast. Derpy bumped one of her roof tiles, so I've offered to patch it up. Gonna spend the entire day there, so that should be nice. Still a few days away. She tried to argue about spending so much money in such a short time, but I assured her it's not going to cost much.

My daydreaming of the weekend to come, and the oddity of my own living conditions certainly isn't helping my focus at work, though.

"Ow -- shit." I hiss, nicking my finger with the sewing needle. That's what I get for zoning out and thinking about bubble-butt at work.

"Prick yourself, darling?" I hear Rarity call from a room over.

"Yeah, I'm alright." I call back, pressing the dollop of blood into my mouth as I give the machine a moment, trying not to bleed all over the place. She's starting to let me use some of the machines, and we're having some mixed results with that.

It's kind of funny in a morbid way that my hands are more comfortable with a rifle meant to blast a chunk of metal through somebody at fuck-knows speed, meanwhile I'm losing blood to something meant for sticking two bits of fabric together with a jiggly little stick that goes up and down fast. There's a half-used box of bandaids at my little corner of Rarity's working desk, because apparently I can't seem to figure out not hurting myself, and I envision needing another box soon.

I didn't even tackle any proper work my first day back from Canterlot. Like I told Derpy at our first lunch back in Ponyville, the moment that front door jingled on my way into the Boutique for my shift, I was promptly thrust into a purple-cushioned lounge chair with a cup of coffee slammed down in front of me before I had even uttered a 'Good Morning'. Rarity eagerly sat across from me with her own cup of tea. Some-pony had been eagerly waiting for my return, and that pony wanted the details. Each and every single one. Ever the gossip mare, what training I had against interrogation techniques floundered in the face of her masterful pestering, and she extracted every bit of information out of me. No comment could pass un-questioned, and she read into every single thing I said, no topic too taboo for Ponyville's queen of whispers. I tried to remain respectful of Derpy, I really did -- but Rarity is unshakeable. She found our little moment in the shower quite scandalous, though seemed disappointed it didn't go anywhere. A little invasive, it was good to get someone else's opinion on a few things, and I felt justified with how they played out. Derpy made the right choices, according to Rarity.

Although, Ponet apparently should make sure to watch his back if he ever visits Ponyville again, and had better pray he doesn't need any new clothes. I think Rarity might stab him on sight with her ribbon scissors or whatever she has within reach, the way she was fuming on Derpy's behalf.

Rarity has also, rather forwardly, offered her services as the only 'reasonable' choice whenever it comes to Derpy and I's wedding attire, for 'Whenever that inevitably happens', as she puts it. It's a sweet gesture, but I really wasn't sure how to respond to that one. She even offered a heavy employee discount, but the most I could muster was an awkward laugh.

The sewing machine slowly starts up again once I've made sure I haven't soured any of the material with my own liquid yuckiness, and after I've properly bandaged my hand for the how-manyeth time today. The sewing machine is kind of similar to those of Earth, but there's apparently a few different kinds one can purchase. Rarity uses ones that hold a small, charged gem to power them rather than electricity, more easily removed or replaced with magic. Originally, she was going to have me practice with the manual one that's built into one of her tables and is hoof-powered, but it's an awkward shape and size for me to use, and I couldn't get a consistent speed. So, I fat-finger the little crystal back into it's slot, as the machine starts whirring again. Touching charged gems makes my hair tingle, like a static charge. Not unpleasant, but I don't like holding on to the things.

Despite my best efforts, I can't help but slip into my thoughts again.

Getting my hours in and getting my money back is one of my main, leading goals. I'm a little light on cash now, and I want to have enough to support Derpy while she's going through this trouble at work. And make back the payments for the loan --

Pinch.

"Ow -- again?!" I flinch, yanking my hand back and cursing loudly. Got my thumb this time, and it hurts like a bitch. It's always the little injuries. This machine is a bloodthirsty little monster, even as I smack the gem out of it's slot so as not to ruin the fabric, watching it clatter across the table and make a dull, hollow noise as it does.

"You alright?" I hear Rarity call again, with more concern audible this time. Usually my self-inflicted injuries are more spaced through-out the day, not all bunched up at once, and are a source of amusement.

"Yeah, yeah." I call back, sighing. Gonna run out of bandaids at this rate, I mutter under my breath, reaching into the box for another. Carefully eyeing that my work, if you can call it that, yet remains unmarred. Lucky me, didn't bleed on it.

Rarity peaks her head into the room, well-producted mane bouncing along with the motion, tsking at my lacking attention span. She's got her glasses on, a length of half-pinned dress, the midway result of one of her brainstorming sessions, dangling in the air from her magic.
"Try folding your... fingers, was it? Into more of a hoof shape, Anon. Spare them the wrath of my new sewing machine, and try not to stain the fabric, will you? I obviously, care for your wellbeing, but that stuff isn't cheap. Bleed away from it if you can!"

Funny. "Will do, boss-lady." I mock-wave with a fist.

"That's Miss Boss-Lady." Rarity tuts, grinning.

She showed me how to use the machine -- but the way that she does it, with magic and hooves. Fingers can only sneak around the needle so long before their inevitable meeting when you have as much experience with one of these machines as a toddler does with...

... I don't know, man. My thumb hurts too much for a good allegory right now. I'm getting flustered, and it's not helping. I guess Redhearts meetings were helping me to at least recognize when I feel like this.

Another bandage applied to my poor little wiggler, as Rarity trots into the room. I'm slotting the gem back in as she stops by the table, watching me try to work the fabric once more.

"Oh, by the way, Anon. I've gotten a hold of the patterns for the Postal Service's Uniform, like you asked." She starts, folding her partially made cloth and setting it to the empty side of the worktable, helping herself to a little break in the meantime.

"Did you really? It wasn't difficult to dredge those up, was it?" I ask, though my eyes remain firmly on the needle, and my closed fist as it hovers nearby, trying to push the fabric through without catching myself again. Not letting this thing get me again. Fool me four times... probably double-shame on me, or something.

"Oh, you'd think such a staple outfit of the Equestrian workforce would be readily available, at several locations even, would you not? But no, it took some serious digging, and they were particularly tightly-lipped about their sources. Everywhere I looked, they kept turning me away! Me!" Rarity exclaims, the very idea garish. Now she's already settling herself in beside me, masterfully disguising a chance to chat with the task of watching over me. I catch a few of those careful side-eyes as she speaks, watching me feed the fabric.

"Isn't the Postal Service a part of the government, or something?" I mention, considering it's importance to Equestrian infrastructure. Even with a dual-matriarchy, it would probably be something similar.

"Oh, of course, but things like that are handled through licenses and outsourcing nonetheless, Anon. The Princesses can hardly run everything themselves, now can they? Turns out, they operate solely out of a single supplier back in Canterlot who ships out all variations of the uniform used across Equestria. I suppose I should have seen that coming, keeping it close to home is the clever move, but I would have thought one of the more advanced factories on the coast would have been handling things." Rarity starts to explain, letting a little bit of a boast slip through.

"How'd you figure that out?" I try to ask, but she looks shocked at the very idea.

"A lady doesn't reveal her secrets, Anon. Come now, you should know better." She tuts again, now playfully scolding me.

"Seems you keep secrets better than whoever you got them from." I duly note, under the coy smile of a proud mare.

"Well, I won't say that's untrue... but, the reason I bring it up is that now, with the templates in my possession, it should be trivial to properly repair Derpy's uniform, if not outright replace it. Though I cannot promise I won't make my own additions --"

Pinch.

"Ow!" Escapes me as the fucking thing clips me for the third time, whirring maliciously until Rarity's more careful, magic-tinted grasp plucks it's power source, letting it lull to a slow. She's quiet for a moment, waiting to ensure that my injury is only superficial before reacting.

"... Let's just have you stack some of the spare supplies for now, Darling." Rarity sighs, before laughing to herself, taking the fabric out from under the machine while I apply yet another bandaid to my poor hand. Somehow, by some miracle, I've narrowly managed to avoid staining my project, my slowly-dwindling luck drying up as Rarity holds the fabric up for a quick inspection. Not that the fabric itself is terribly expensive, but my fingers are starting to hurt after paying the cost of my faltering attention.

"You're usually at least a little more... observant than this, Anon. Attentive. Less accident prone? This very well may be a new record, which is impressive considering how the first time I let you near any of these machines went. Is something troubling you? Heavy thoughts weighing upon your mind?" She muses, making her way back over to my seat once she's set aside project.

"Not really? I don't know... just a lot of thinking, I guess." I shrug, fumbling for yet another bandaid, knocking the box over. A little hard to summarize all the things keeping my thoughts in a tumbling swirl.

"I'd say it's better to keep ones brain active rather than let it simmer with the despondent sludge of inactivity, though perhaps in your case, you ought to let the poor thing rest once in a while. Problems with your mare-friend keeping you distracted?" Rarity guesses, carefully crossing both of her front-hooves, nestling her head against them as she rests on the workbench. One of the bandages is plucked from the table, floating over to stick itself to my newest little ouchie, courtesy of Rarity's glowing horn.

"Why do you think it's Derpy?" I ask, trying to get comfortable despite the throbbing pain in most of my fingers.

"You're the kind of stallion who would worry more about another's problems than his own, Anon." She bluntly notes, not even waiting a moment to think on her response. "Especially that of a very specific, very... accident prone Mare who is so continually on your mind. Said mare that I've been recruited unto two wholly separate, secret projects pertaining to specifically her, all filed away quietly just on your behest alone. So, is it?"

Yeah, okay. Maybe I'm a little more predictable then I expected. "I suppose. We're not having trouble or problems or anything..."

"Good, because I'd beat the senses back into either of you if you were. You're quite the match for each-other, and I'm not letting either of you sour that." Rarity comments with a loud harumph, awkwardly supportive as she is threatening.

"Duly noted. But... Derpy is having a bit of trouble, if I had to find a word for it." I say, and already, Rarity has inched forward, eyes widening with the anticipation of more gossip. "I told you that she was having a rough time from what happened in Canterlot, and how she's slowly working through it, right?"

"Mhmm. Has something come up?" Rarity prompts me, and I hardly notice she's already got a pair of cups settled between us.

"Well... not with that. Her work is getting weird, her hours dicey." I start trying to explain, not quite sure how much I should actually reveal.

"Oh?" Rarity leans forward, interested growing.

"I wanted her to be able to relax, you know, after that stress in Canterlot with Dinky and that school stuff.

"Mmhmm?"

"Nothing is consistent, and it's all over the place. Something's going on, and it's stressing her out because of how her boss is acting."

Rarity scoots closer, one delicately painted hoof carefully and quietly folding over the other, like a cat subtley stalking it's prey. Only that the prey is me being none the wiser that I'm walking into another gossip session head-first.

"Do tell." She urges, looming pretty well for a pony half my size.

That one phrase alone set the stage for the rest of the day. Not a single new stitch got sewn, my shift at the boutique instead spent explaining Derpy's situation to Rarity, who ate it up like it was a buffet.

It felt good to share with somebody, honestly. I appreciate Rarity a lot, and my fingers appreciated the break a lot more.

I kick up on the couch with something to drink, trying to lift my cup without using my heavily bandaged fingers. It's not easy, so I'm holding it between my palms as I take a sip, smacking my lips as I wait for it to cool.

"Oh, buck off!" Scootaloo squeaks loudly, throwing her hooves in the air, catching my attention.

"Scoot!" Applebloom gasps. There's a quiet, collective stare from the other fillies circled around the coffee table as they all look at me instead of Scootaloo, awaiting some kind of adult-based parental judgement. She's having fun, I'll let her off easy.

"Uh... language." I predictably, half-heartedly tsk to the potty-mouth, Scootaloo nodding sheepishly before they quickly dive back into their game. Sweetie mutters further scolding under her breath as Scootaloo tries to wave her off.

Sweetie Belle had brought a board game from her house this time, with Scootaloo, Applebloom and Dinky all huddled around my living room coffee table as they play. I had absolutely no idea how this game is played, opting to just watch when they invited me. Not like I could pick up any of the pieces anyway, my fingers were still bitching at me.

Their whole little foalpack had already been inside and occupying my living room when I got home. I left early after getting grilled by Rarity, who allowed an early end to the day so I wouldn't bleed all over the place and could let my 'battle-wounds' against her vicious war machines heal, as she put it.

The foals even dished themselves out some snacks in my absence, making themselves right at home. Maybe they're getting a little too comfortable. Adorably, they had 'made' me a cup of water and a little plate when they were snacking up themselves, all so I wouldn't be 'left out', sat waiting for me in my fridge.

As far as I can tell, whatever they're playing is some kind of property-owning game where their little figures travel all over Equestria, and can purchase the various towns and cities as they move in one big, repeatable circle, going until one of them is the capitalist winner. I could swear I remember a game back on Earth playing similarly, but the name escapes me. They stacked the lid and the box together to hold the spare pieces, so I can't read it either. Not like I'm that invested to interrupt their game to ask.

But they're getting really into it.

Currently, Scootaloo is at the bottom of the scoreboard following an egregiously bold maneuver to try and capitalize on all of the coastal properties. Problem is, she had some of the worst rolls to move around the board, so she ended up getting there last and picking up the scraps, too stubborn to give up her plan. She's now tripling-down on Fillydelphia alone, spiking rent as high as possible for anyone who might land on it. To which, none of the other girls have yet. Scoots is discovering some colorful language in her approach to exploring her feelings about the topic.

Applebloom, inversely, is trying to lowball the entire inland. She's picking up all of the cheapest tiles, the smaller towns and villages, including Ponyville, trying to go for maximum coverage instead. It's netting her a few bucks since they inevitably land on her tiles, but she's hardly gotten any more money than she started with.

Sweetie is focusing on the infrastructure cards, owning the rail systems, rainbow factory, and so on. I can see the devious glint in her eye as she quietly stews behind her cards, watching the other girls. I'm not quite sure what her plan is, but it looks like it's working, the way she's got some fat stacks of cash.

Dinky is doing literally whatever she wants, completely unpredictable and going with her whims in the moment. She owns random properties all across the country with no rhyme or reason, and is currently holding several key cards against the others that they all want. Both the Appleoosa and Crystal Empire rails are held hostage from a malding Sweetie Belle, and Dinky is sweating Applebloom by holding ownership of her own families farm over her head. Yeah, Applejack's farm showed up on the board. Surprised me too, but figures if they're one of the largest exporters of Apples in the region.

A loud, sudden slam at my front door startles all of us, Scootaloo cursing loudly again as she drops her cards. We all stare at the door, confused and surprised.

Finally, a much softer, proper door knocking catches all of our attention. The fillies look up at me expectantly. Derpy isn't due for another couple of hours, and she never uses the door. She's got her little window routine leaving me with no idea who it could be. Maybe Applejack or Rarity picking up their sister?

"Want me to get it, Mister Muss?" Applebloom offers, ever the sweetheart.

"No, I'll get it!" Dinky tries to object, hopping to her hooves. It's outright adorable of them, but I doubt the sanctity of the game would survive if any of them left the table. Sweetie and Applebloom have this devious glare they keep sharing with the other ever since Dinky offered, probably in some kind of wordless plan to sneak some of Dinky's cards. Scootaloo is a loose cannon with her current ranking, and she might pull something drastic. Best I get the door.

"Carry on, I've got it." I groan, slowly swinging myself up and off the couch. I set the cup down on my kitchen counter on the way over, while the girls shrug and get back to their game. By the time I get to the door, there's still a polite, but incessant knocking.

"Yep, yep, I'm coming." I announce, swinging the door open. "Who..."

I'm glad I put my cup down, or it would've hit the floor. My stomach drops when I see the red-faced, teary-eyed snout of Derpy staring up at me, trying her best to keep a weak smile on her face despite the tears streaking down her cheeks.

"H-hey, Anon." Derpy sniffles, awkwardly rubbing at her face, unable to decide if she should use a hoof or a wing. She's sat on the ground in front of my door, face-fur wet from crying for who knows how long. Her uniform is a wrinkled mess, with parts of it smeared in dirt and mud.

"Derpy?" I barely mumble, my wondering of why she's even here yet. It's like my brain has been flashbanged and my mental processing out of whack, stuck on the fact that she never uses the door.

She's trying to stifle sniffs and quiet sobs, putting on a brave face. It doesn't even last a second before it breaks. "I, uh... I-I got laid off." She starts to laugh, before it twists into a sob that wrenches my heart into pieces, her tears staining my welcome mat.

I'm already knelt down, pulling her and her tear-dampened fur tightly against myself as she shudders against me, crying into my shoulder.