Selective Service, Volume II

Trotting out of the grocery store and into the noonday sun, Měi paused to slip the sunglasses from her brow down over her eyes. She preferred to go out at night, having had a nocturnal schedule from most of her life, though making the occasional exception to visit the bank, pay bills, or to get provisions was a necessary, albeit typically exhausting ordeal. While having her sleep cycle disrupted was a bit of a headache, there was another, far less pleasant reason she avoided going out in the light of day.

As she strolled down the sidewalk and came to a stop at an intersection, a sudden motion to her right caught her attention. Standing beside her, only a few paces away, was a young colt near what she presumed was his mother. Smiling and lifting a forehoof, knowing he may not have seen many, if any unreformed changelings before, she waved.

A timid smile graced his lips, as he peered over at her. “Hi…”

“Hello,” she tranquilly replied, dipping her head.

She shifted her gaze when the mare placed a forehoof on his shoulder and pulled him close. Even if the pony hadn’t been scowling, the stick of open contempt hung heavily in the air. Undeterred, ignoring the disdain which she’d grown numb to since becoming an adult, she opened her purse, reached inside, and pulled out a hard candy.

“Do you like apple,” she began, levitating a second sweet from her bag, “or peach?”

In a flash, before the colt could say a word, the mare pulled the young pony close. “Could you not speak to my son?”

“Would you like a piece yourself?” she countered, knowing full well that she was tempting fate.

Retaining her well-trained, pleasant demeanor, she offered one of the candies to the ill-tempered and overprotective mother. She’d lost track of how many ponies she’d met who were beholden to their prejudices, those too ignorant or closed-minded to give her and her unreformed kin a chance, but that wasn’t enough to sully her mood. It may have been inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, but swaying the public about kind was a challenge she tackled whenever she was able.

“No,” the mare flatly declared, leering over at her. “Come on, honey, leave the bug alone.”

Watching the pair trot away, crossing the street and continuing onward, she nodded at the colt as he peeked back at her. “Take care, little one.”

She let the mare’s disgruntled grunt drift in one ear and out the other. There were unfortunately a great many ponies like the nag, ones who could taint the younger generations with their dogmatic beliefs, though that could change in time. There was no guarantee that fillies and colts, like the little stallion she’d just met paths with, would fall prey to their parent’s biases, so doing her part to ensure they grew into tolerant adults was the least she could do. Looking to her left and right, checking the road, she trotted through the intersection and returned the candies into her purse.

Aside from the mildly disheartening interaction she’d just had, she was actually in decent spirits. She wasn’t on call for the next three nights, giving her the entire weekend to herself, and she was looking forward to the time off. Since her profession kept her on her hooves and gave her plenty of excitement, never knowing exactly what her customers’ interests were, she liked to relax by tending to her herb garden, reading, and occasionally submitting articles to Playmare.

She wandered to one side of the sidewalk and nodded to a pair of royal guards out on patrol as she continued onward. Contrary to what many would think, the life of a callmare wasn’t all that interesting - sure, things were different when she was on the clock, but she wasn’t much different from anypony else. As her mind drifted to what she’d make for dinner, torn between the options of pan noodles and stir-fry, her ears swiveled back.

“Hey,” somepony huffed behind her.

Slowing and glancing over her shoulder, she slowed to a halt. The guards she’d just passed, a pair of stallions out on patrol, had turned and were trotting after her. It was only from years of practice that she was able to keep herself from frowning. She may not have known what they wanted or why they were trying to stop her, but her instincts told her it wasn’t for anything good.

She languidly faced them and nodded to them each in turn, realizing that ignoring them would do her no good. “Afternoon, officers.”

Clad in their armor and looking none too friendly, the pair approached her. Like many of the larger cities in Equestria, Maretropolis had a large contingent of officers to keep the peace. Since masked heroes couldn’t be everywhere at once, and often had their hooves full dealing with larger problems or villains, guards were left to handle lesser crimes or issues.

“Got your ID?” one of the centurions asked, looking her up and down.

“Of course,” she paused, squinting at his badge, “officer Crisp.”

Opening her purse, she reached for her wallet. This wasn’t the first time she’d been stopped for no reason at all, and she’d bet her bottom bit that it wouldn’t be the last. As sad as it was to say, changelings, at least the ones like her, were easily mistaken for one another by most species.

She made no quick moves as she lifted and presented her identification. “Here you are, sir.”

While Crip took the proffered card from her hoof, she took a moment to study the duo. Neither officer seemed to be in the best of moods, leading her to believe they were searching for somepony - then again, given some of her past experiences with guards, they may have just been bored. Biding her time and maintaining her cheerful facade, she looked to the second officer.

“Jazz,” she remarked, inspecting his uniform. “Is that from the apple or the type of music?”

Outright ignoring her, he took her ID from his coworker, turned it over in his hoof, and grimaced. “This doesn’t seem legit.”

A knot formed in her gut, though she made a concerted effort to show no sign of it. “How so? I assure you, it’s from the -”

“What’s in the bag?” Crisp cut her off.

She peaked a brow and regarded her groceries. “Rice, carrots, an onion, some bouillon, and -”

“Your purse,” Jazz interrupted. “He meant your purse.”

“Have a look for yourself,” she politely insisted, lifting the shoulder strap over her head and offering her handbag to them. “Before you ask about it, there’s a tin of spiced herbs in there.”

Slowly exhaling, she shifted her weight and seated herself on the ground. Whatever they wanted, regardless of what they were hunting for, she didn’t have anything to worry about - at least she told herself she didn’t have anything to worry about. She hoped - prayed she was wrong, but she was beginning to think that the two stallions didn’t have her or the common ponies’ interests at heart.

Crisp practically tore the purse from her grasp and began rifling through it with no regard for her things. While he may not have said anything incriminating to her, his actions belied his true intentions. His tone, demeanor, and total lack of respect all told her what he was too cowardly to put to words - he was trying to find a problem with her.

Waiting until his expression hardened, she softly cleared her throat. “Is there a problem?”

Crisp thrust the bag at her as though it were anathema. “Where’s your real ID, bug?”

And there it was. Most ponies weren’t callous enough to use the slur openly, if at all, yet he’d done so to her face. The front of geniality she worked so hard to preserve throughout the encounter faltered. She really didn’t mind most guards - heck, she’d entertained a fair number throughout the years, but she’d rather deal with a legitimate criminal than a bully wearing a badge.

“Like I said, that is my ID,” she asserted, nodding to the card in Jazz’ hoof. “If you feel like there may be some problem with it, you can always check with the town hall.”

Glowering, Jazz reached back, placed his forehoof on the handle of his baton, and dropped her ID to the ground. “Don’t get smart with us.”

She wanted - sweet Chrysalis, she wanted to tell him that she was apparently the only smart creature amongst the three of them, but she bit her tongue. “Of course not, officers. All I’m saying is that I am who I say I am.”

“Right,” Crisp murmured as his eyes drifted down to her teats. “If that’s true, you won’t mind coming down to the substation with us to be sure.”

“Listen, my apartment is two blocks down the road,” she sighed, pointing in the direction she had been headed. “If you let me go drop my groceries off, I’d be happy to -”

“To sneak off and give us the slip?” Jazz quipped. “Nah, you ain’t getting away that easy.”

Stuck between a rock and a hard place, she hung her head. “Fine, since you insist.”

It wasn’t like she had much choice in the matter. If she resisted or gave them too much flak, she’d make herself look suspicious - that being said, the flagrant harassment was testing her patience. She wouldn’t have minded if they’d been polite and explained themselves, telling her that she fit the description of somepony who’d done something wrong, but that wasn’t the case.

Jazz smirked and nodded over to his partner before motioning to the side. “Get your stuff and follow us. Don’t worry, we’re not going far.”

She remained quiet as she took her purse, stored her effects, and adjusted her saddle bag. The small diversion, while unpleasant and completely unnecessary, wasn’t the worst thing in the world - nevertheless, she’d be lying if she said it wasn’t frustrating. With her purse slung around her neck, she noticed the pair had flanked her.

“This way,” Crisp grunted, trotting forward.

Keeping her mouth shut, trotted along with them. “I’m guessing you two have had a busy day?”

She doubted idle chatter would do her any good, but it may buy her a bit of time to figure out what they were up to. Even if she hadn’t been able to sense that something was wrong, she could tell that something was wrong with the stallions. They may have been in good physical health, but the malign air about them and the way they were conducting themselves was far from that of the many upstanding officers she’d met in the past.

Neither stallion said a word, staying silent and moving at a steady pace. The small slight was yet another mark against them, but it wasn’t until they strayed from the sidewalk and meandered into an alley that she was given a moment for pause. Being intimately familiar with the city, and particularly this part of town, she knew that there was no guard station in the direction they’d taken.

She stopped just outside the backstreet and steeled herself. There was only one reason they’d bring her somewhere secluded, and it didn’t involve anything even remotely virtuous. Waiting until she drew their attention, she scrunched her snout and took a step toward them.

“You could have done me the courtesy of telling me this was a shakedown,” she muttered.

“Did I ask for your opinion?” Jazz seethed.

“No, but opening with a complement or some flattery would have been a more pleasant way to get what you wanted,” she groaned.

Snorting and spitting to the ground, Crisp glared at her. “Since when do bug hookers care about sweet talk?”

She closed the gap between them and flashed her teeth. “We all do, sweetheart. Had you - hey!”

Quicker than she could react, Jazz reached out and unclipped her saddle bag. The food she’d just bought fell to the cold, dirty concrete beneath her hooves, darkening her already dour mood. It was one thing to be taken advantage of, but it was another to be treated like you were less than a pony.

“Spread ‘em,” Jazz intoned, circling her.

“Pretty sure she knows the deal,” Crisp laughed as he sidled directly in front of her. “I wouldn’t worry about the groceries, slut. After the meal I give you, you won’t -”

She blinked, unsure of what had just happened. One second the stallion was grinning down at her - the next he was gone. Turning her head, completely bewildered, she spotted the officer slumped against the wall. A flash of blue and gust of blue and gust of wind caused her to reflexively shield her eyes when something zipped past her at unimaginable speed.

A colorful blur whizzed by the second guard, slid beneath a wild swing of the centurion's baton, and reversed course and accelerated away. The stallion was as shaken as she was, putting his back to the wall while looking around in a panic, but all the adrenaline in the world wouldn’t have been enough to save him. Like his corrupt companion, he was sent flying and slammed through a stack of wooden pallets by the mysterious force.

As she looked between the incapacitated guards, her ears were greeted by an eerie, preternatural silence. Her dismay and anger at the two immoral guards was gone in an instant and replaced by dismay. A part of her was relieved that she wouldn’t have to live with the indignity of what had nearly transpired, though any comfort she would have felt was overshadowed by fear that she may be soon joining the incapacitated stallions.

The sound of something moving at the end of the alley sent a cold chill up her spine. Whoever or whatever had just taken out the officers may not have done so to save her - in fact, it may have had its eyes on her all along. She’d managed to avoid the city’s overpowered evildoers over the years, barring one instance when she saw one at a distance, but that could change at any moment.

Lifting her gaze, she spotted a figure backlit by the street some two-dozen yards away. Clad in a cyan bodysuit, a stallion peered over at her with emerald eyes. She had no doubt that she was looking at a hero, taking into account everything that had just transpired, yet something gnawed at her - something she couldn’t put her hoof on. As she stared over at him and met his eyes, her jaw went slack.

He gave her no time to speak, disappearing instantaneously and leaving her to her lonesome. Ordinarily speaking, tracking down a hero would be like finding a needle in a haystack, not for the least of which reasons being they kept their identities a well-guarded secret, but this instance was extraordinary in a number of ways. Not only did she recall the crusader’s name, recalling he went by Hope Hurricane, but she knew who he really was.

Levitating and clasping her saddle bag around her chest, she hurriedly gathered her groceries, wheeled around, and strutted out of the backstreet with a smile on her face. Any other mare would have fruitlessly rushed after their savior, but she saw no point in doing that. Hope was leagues faster than she could ever be, regardless of what she transformed herself into, and she wasn’t about to make a fool of herself.

It only took her a few minutes to get home, put away the food she’d purchased, and freshen herself up. It wasn’t like she’d planned on making another outing so quickly, but the unique circumstances practically demanded making a second excursion. After checking the time while she trotted out and locked up behind herself, she set off to confront her rescuer.

Her trip went swiftly and without incident, going unbothered by anypony and without the weight of groceries on her back, bringing her to her destination when the sun had only just started to dip toward the horizon. It was a bit of a gamble to spontaneously go to see him, since she wasn’t sure if he was in, but it was worth the small risk. She stopped at his door and knocked without hesitation.

“Torque?” she called.

Though it was faint, she could hear movement from inside. Somepony was home, she was certain of that, and her hunch told her exactly who it was. She gave a second, louder series of knocks, keeping her hooves crossed that he’d answer the door - sadly, she was given no reply. While she abstained from using her abilities for unscrupulous purposes, he gave her no choice.

Violet fire consumed her as she put her powers to work. She was used to altering her figure to suit her clients’ tastes, slimming herself down or padding out various parts of her person before a date, yet the transformation she enacted was far from the norm. Her perspective shifted as soon as had completed, leaving the world around her to appear utterly gargantuan in size.

She extended her wings, took to the air, and flitted beneath the door. There was nothing particularly glamorous about changing into a housefly, but it allowed her to be a literal fly on the wall if the need arose. Soaring through the apartment and seeing no sign of Torque, she flew into his bedroom.

As she’d suspected, he was home, though it was immediately apparent that something was amiss. Seated on the edge of his bed, still wearing his suit, he hung his head and stared blankly down at the floor. Landing on his dresser, she went motionless. A miasma of woe and contempt radiated from him, striking her like a gong.

Though she wouldn’t normally intrude on a customer, Torque was a special case. The stallion was kind, treated her well, and was quite handsome - on top of that, he was an actual hero. She tried not to grow attached to clients, but she wouldn’t deny that there was something about him that resonated with her.

Looking over to his window, she was graced with an idea. While he may not have been willing to go to the door, obviously not wanting to be bothered, he’d be hard-pressed to ignore a changeling knocking at his window. Sailing out the way she came, she seamlessly shifted into a hawk after leaving his flat. No matter what was wrong with him, some tea and a snack should help lift his spirits.

As luck would have it, there was a cafe just down the street that she’d been to multiple times in the past - of course it helped that she’d serviced the owner several times before, shortly after he’d gone through a particularly rough divorce, though that worked in her favor. With a wink, smile, and just a few honeyed words, she got her small order on the house and was back on her way to Torque’s place.

She stopped just outside of his building, turned her gaze upward, and started counting the windows. Third floor, east side, second from the corner - that’s where he’d be. Opening her elytra and extending her wings, she flew up and to his window. Now that she’d seen the state he was in, her determination to speak with him was set.

As she hovered outside his window, her eyes scanned the gloomy, dimly lit room and settled upon him. He hadn’t budged over the few minutes she’d been gone, compounding her concern by an order of measure. Donning her most becoming smile, she rapped on the window with a free hoof and held her breath.

Only turning his head just enough to glance at her, he made no move to greet her. There was no shock or dismay, he didn’t jump up and demand to know why she was there, and he didn’t even try to hide his outfit - he just silently peered at her with a single eye, broken and completely still as she employed her magic to unlock and open the window. Carefully holding the carrying tray of tea and a bag with two orange scones, she crept inside.

“First of all, thank you for earlier,” she noted once she’d set the food and drink down.

He grunted and looked away, barely paying her any mind. “Don’t mention it…”

Trotting over to him, she gingerly placed a forehoof on his shoulder and unintentionally made him start. “I most certainly am going to mention it. Torque, you’re a good stallion and -”

“You should leave,” he whispered.

“Why?” she softly questioned. “If this is a bad time, I could -”

“Because I can’t keep doing this!” he barked, slapping her hoof away and bolting whipping around to face her. “Do you have any idea - any idea how bucked up this is?!?”

She went rigid, taken aback by his outburst. “I won’t breathe a word to anypony about you, I swear by the Great Mother.”

Hopping to the floor, he stomped his hoof and splintered the wooden floor. “Great, just bucking wonderful! So the whore I’ve been plowing, the one I’ve been paying to disguise herself as my sister, says she’ll keep my secret! Gee - thank you so much.”

Weathering the hurtful comments, she fought the urge to snap at him. He was clearly distraught and in the midst of some sort of crisis, yet his eruption ran contrary to his actions. The entire reason she was there was because he’d saved her from a degrading fate - as such, she wasn’t going to turn her back on him that easily.

“Talk,” she calmly but sternly demanded, drawing his baleful gaze. “Unless you’ve come clean to Vise or some of your friends, you need to get something off your chest.”

“Buck you,” he fumed.

“You have and I wouldn’t be surprised if you did so again in the future,” she breathed. “Torque, I’m not here for business - I’m here because I’m worried about you.”

Storming over to her, he kicked the take-away cups of tea with such force that they exploded. “Why? I didn’t ask you to come here! I didn’t want you to come and thank me! Just go back home and forget this ever happened - oh and don’t expect any more calls from me. We’re through…”

“And I didn’t ask you to stalk me,” she stated. He froze and his eyes widened, giving her an opening she was more than willing to exploit. “The chances of you simply stumbling on me in that alley were slim - so slim that I doubt it was a mere coincidence.”

Tensed muscles, set jaw, and intimidating aura notwithstanding, something within him shifted. She’d struck a blow, one he apparently hadn’t expected, and managed to turn the tables on him. Nopony save a changeling could know what she’d done, being only able to see his incensed state, yet the wild, wrathful energy he discharged diminished ever so slightly.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” she urged, inching closer to him. “Talk to me, Torque, please…”

The unbridled fire of his rage died, drowned out by a tsunami of sorrow. Sinking to his haunches, he tore off his mask and cast it to the side. She’d successfully dealt with one issue, the enraged hero who’d been on the verge of what could be a catastrophic breakdown, but the more pressing problem still remained. Crossing to him, she summoned her courage and embraced him.

To her astonishment, he buried his face in her neck and shuddered - no, not just shuddered, he quietly sobbed. She didn’t say a thing, mutely stroking his back and doing what she could to comfort him. He may have had powers that defied explanation, the strength to crush stone and the speed of a bullet train, but he was just a pony.

“It’s ok,” she faintly uttered. “Whatever’s wrong, it’s ok…”

“No…” he choked out, refusing to look up at her. “No it’s not…”

Withdrawing and bringing a hoof under his chin, she smiled. “It is - if it’s not, it will be. You’re a good stallion, Torque, and you’ve got a bright, happy future in front of you.”

“How?” he pleaded with tears streaming down his face. “J…just look at me. I knocked out two guards, I can’t stop fantasizing about Vise, and my life is coming apart at the seams.”

She leaned in and gave him a small kiss on the crown as she pulled him to her bosom. “If you were truly a bad pony, none of that would bother you. Nopony has complete control over how they feel, everypony looks up to you, and you’ve done far, far more good than harm - not to mention you rescued me. There isn’t a soul on the planet that’s flawless, though you shine more brilliantly than most.”

Gently pushing her away, he wiped his nose and sniffled. “I’m s…sorry…”

“Hush,” she faintly tittered. “Really, you don’t need to apologize to me.”

He gradually composed himself, coming to his senses as his rampant, chaotic emotions waned. She’d meant everything she told him, whether he believed it or not, and she was happy that she’d been able to talk him down - however there was much to do. His reprieve was finite, a temporary clarity to the maelstrom that was raging within him, and it did nothing to address his inner demons.

Trotting to his nightstand and momentarily peering at the photo of Vise he kept by his bed, she snatched up a hoofful of tissues and returned to him. “You said you won’t be seeing me after this?”

“I…I don’t know,” he despondently responded, looking utterly defeated. “You’re a sweet mare, but your services are only making things worse. The more I do things with you, the harder it is for me to do anything. I keep thinking of Vise, but I can’t talk to her without thinking about…”

“About your true feelings for her,” she concluded.

He nodded and weakly shrugged his shoulders. “Pretty much. I love her, Měi - I love her as a sister and I lust for her more than I have for anypony. If she finds out what I’ve done, I’ll lose her…”

With a heavy sigh, she lowered her head. “You may. While I may not know her, such a revelation would tarnish the relationship between most siblings.”

“I just - Guh!” he groaned, shaking his head while rubbing one temple. “What am I supposed to do?”

She’d understood that it may come to this, that there was a chance he may seek her council, though she wasn’t sure if she was up to the task. Taking him by the forehoof, she stepped back and pulled him up. He’d opened up to her and had asked for her help, but there was one thing she required before she would dare assist with tackling his problems - time.

“What you’re going to do is take a shower, change out of your costume, and then help me clean up this mess,” she instructed, waving down at the tea splashed across the floor and over his bed. “Once you and your room are tidied up, I’d like to discuss a possible solution to your woes.”

“R…really?” he stammered.

The hint of hope wafting off him was ambrosial, yet the aftertaste of her lie sat acridly on her tongue. She wasn’t a therapist, nor was she some nigh-omnipotent sorcerer, and she couldn’t snap her hooves to make all his troubles disappear - even so, she wasn’t going to leave him to the wolves. Nodding and grinning, she trotted to his side and ushered him to the bathroom.

“Really,” she affirmed, immeasurably thankful he couldn’t detect her deceit. “Go on. I’ll strip your bed and put the linens in the wash.”

Spinning in place, he ensnared her in a hug. “Thank you…”

She locked up, overwhelmed by the warmth and sincerity of his words. To her mercy, he released her, bashfully smiled, and scampered into the restroom. Shows of affection were nothing new for her - for goodness’ sake, she’d gotten more than she could count over the years, yet the light of his gratitude was almost blinding. She may have been a whore, a pariah to many, but he genuinely needed her.

Listening to the shower start to run, she gazed at the closed door of the bathroom and was overcome with melancholy. She should have been pleased, joyful that she’d snatched him from the jaws of a breakdown, though a gloom hung heavy over her. For all the things she had to be proud of, an apartment of her own and the means with which to get by, she had desires that had gone unfulfilled.

Ironically enough, most of her brothers and sisters would have been envious of her. She never went without, each day was a banquet, and she lived better than most, yet she felt empty. Every day - every single day, she saw families and couples while she was out and about, cheerful little relationships that touched her, and it cultivated a longing within her. Maybe she’d grown jaded in her age, or perhaps she’d spent too long away amongst ponies - whatever the case may be, she yearned to find love - true love.

The passion her clients afforded her sustained her in more ways than one, though it was ephemeral. Once the bits had been paid and her services rendered, that was it - an end that was abrupt and, while sating her in a bodily and monetary sense, was unrewarding. Outside of a very small number of friends, and excluding her customers, she had nopony for support.

As she gathered up the dampened blankets and sheets from the bed, having used the covers to mop up what tea there was on the floor, her mind went to work. While she couldn’t dictate how she felt at any given time, she could fixate on the task at hoof - in that regard, she fixated on Torque’s dilemma. He’d be out of the shower before long, and she was sure he was ready for her to magically solve his problems, so she needed to think of something.

The good news was that he took his sweet time washing himself, giving her a chance to think - the bad news was that the conclusion she came to was bittersweet and wasn’t necessarily foolproof. With the linens in the wash, she checked his kitchen cupboards and begrudgingly started a pot of coffee. The java finished just as Torque reappeared, trotting in while drying his mane with a towel.

“I thought I smelled coffee,” he laughed.

“I would suggest you get tea for my visits,” she halfheartedly grumbled while turning toward her, “but that won’t be necessary after today.”

With his mirth fading, he cast his eyes to the floor. “About that - look, I didn’t mean what I said.”

“No, I believe you were on to something,” she tutted. Removing her purse and placing it on the counter, she removed her pipe and cocktail of herbs. “May I?”

He crossed to her and dismissively waved a hoof. “Go ahead. What do you mean?”

“I mean I don’t think you should see me anymore,” she serenely answered. “Each of our little meetings plunges the knife deeper and will only make things more difficult from here on out. For the sake of your sanity and the love of your sister, you have to find a way to push past this.”

“But how though?” he moaned. “Trust me, it’s not as simple as flicking a switch or pressing a button.”

Packing and lifting the pipe to her lips, she ignited her horn. “I know that. You didn’t simply wake up in such a quandary, and you won’t be able to get yourself out of it at the drop of a hat - be that as it may, you’re not beyond redemption.”

He pursed his lips as she touched a sorcerous flame to the mixture of herbs. “And I’d do that by…?”

Drawing out the moment, she pulled sweet smoke into her muzzle, savored the numbing, buzzing sensation to wash over her tongue, and slowly exhaled. Heavy conversations, like the one she was wading into, were best done at a metered pace to prevent flared tempers or hurt feelings. As she peered at him through the pink plume, she willed the corners of her mouth upward.

“You try your hoof at dating, of course,” she purred.

“And where would I even start with that?” he lamented, throwing a hoof up in frustration. “Do you have any idea how hard it is for somepony like me to start dating?”

“A handsome, compassionate, young stallion as yourself should have mares practically flinging themselves at them - that is, unless you’re referring to our righteous pastime,” she giggled.

Looking down into the mug of coffee, he closed his eyes. “Yeah, that. The few heroes I know who are in relationships are either seeing another hero, been married for years, or both - sure, an ordinary pony - no offense.”

She shrugged and smiled all the wider when he peeked over at her. “None taken.”

“An ordinary pony doesn’t have much at stake when dating,” he explained. “I’d have to make sure I trusted a potential marefriend - like, really trusted them before I even considered telling them why I was occasionally rushing off for hours at a time.”

“It’s still far from an impossible endeavor,” she hummed. “I understand you’d have to tread lightly until somepony earned your confidence in such a regard, but that’s what dating is for. You don’t simply open yourself like a book and reveal all your secrets to anypony you’re just getting to know.”

Knitting his brow, he sighed. “Let’s say I did find a marefriend, one who either figured out who I was or that I was comfortable enough with to spill the beans to ~ what happens if things don’t work out and she starts running her mouth?”

She took another toke from her pipe before continuing. “Well the bay is quite large and deep in places. I’m sure nopony would find the body,” she cooed. Seeing and sensing his abject shock, her composure broke and she laughed. “That’s a joke, sweetheart. Seriously though, unless she stole your suit, there’s always plausible deniability. Anypony can say anything wild or scandalous - as long as there’s no proof, you wouldn’t have anything to worry about.”

“So I’m just supposed to go to a bar or something and start trying to pick up a mare?” he asked.

His naivete was adorable and a breath of fresh air in contrast to the gravitas of the discussion. “If that’s a route you decided to take, of course, though that’s one of many options. One can meet a prospective lover anywhere - moreover, there are venues that offer services for those seeking love.”

With the barest trace of a smile splitting his features, he cocked his head. “Like those speed dating things?”

“Those or blind dates, yes,” she confirmed. “The world’s your oyster, Torque, and there are plenty of mares who’d like -”

“You want to get some dinner?” he inquired.

His sudden question caught her off guard, though she wasn’t bothered. Considering he likely hadn’t been eating properly, what with all his stress and inner turmoil, she couldn’t blame him for being hungry. Slipping a forehoof into her purse and feeling around for her wallet, she chuckled.

“I suppose I could treat you to a meal,” she sarcastically whined. “With all the fine dining I’d had at your expense, it’s the least I could do.”

“I didn’t mean right now,” he clarified. “Maybe we could go out this Friday?”

Peaking a brow over at him, she grinned. “Like a date?”

“Not like a date - a date,” he whispered.

She’d heard him clearly, every word being simple and well enunciated, but she couldn’t for the life of her make sense of what he’d just said. “I…I beg your pardon?”

“A date,” he repeated with a blush creeping into his cheeks. “There’s this place I’ve been hearing about on the waterfront that we could - crap,” he coughed, looking over at a clock in his living room, “I gotta go. Do me a favor and lock up when you leave. See you Friday!”

Regaining all the speed he’d displayed in the alleyway hours prior, he rocketed into his room, back through the kitchen, and out of the door over the span of a few heartbeats. It was anypony’s guess as to why he’d left so swiftly, she hadn’t the slightest idea of where he’d gone, and he’d abandoned her in a bewildered, frankly stricken state - despite all that, his parting statement rang in her ears.

Surely - surely this was a joke. He couldn’t honestly intend to try to court her, the actual her ~ could he? Drawing from her pipe, failing to realize the embers had died, she blankly looked over at his untouched coffee. As she moved unthinkingly through his apartment, turning off the lights and coffee maker as she went, a single line - that single line ran on repeat through her mind.

‘See you Friday…’