They arrived at the town hall, thrumming with ponies busily trotting to and fro when they weren't writing or typing at their desk. Thomas took in a deep breath of that healthy working life smell. "So this is where they do all the governing, huh?"

"Yeah." Spike kept an eye out for someone who wasn't busy. "Ah ha!" He pointed the way towards a relatively calm desk. "Hey, got a new coming immigrant for you."

The pony behind the desk was a different shade of red than the others. He got up from his desk and gave Thomas a once over. "Alright, show me the back of your hand." The moment he could see Thomas' hand, he got to typing on his binary typewriter, hooves rapidly clicking back and forth. "Mmm. B Class, that's good."

Thomas perked at that. "What does B class actually mean? I mean, what do they want from me?"

"That depends." He inclined his head at Thomas. "By order of the princess, and everything that entails, you are allowed to stay here indefinitely." He sat down, hooves still working. "B means you are graded as generally friendly. A pony is in very little danger approaching and speaking to you. You appear to be open to such communication."

"I guess so." Thomas sighed lightly. "So what are my other options?"

The pony clicked one last time. "An A grade is one of the top levels. It means you actively are seeking out pony companionship and appear to be basically a pony, for all intents and purposes. To be treated as a friend at first glance. But above that, there's S and SSS grade, but I never met one of those."

Thomas pursed his lips. "So what do I need to do to get a better grade?"

The pony shook a hoof. "You are what you are, Sir. The mark is for first brushes. From here forward, you earn more by just being nice, or not being nice. If you're good to get along with, ponies will warm up to you nice and fast. Of course, if you prove yourself a danger to us, that's a big mark against you."

"It was all downhill from there." Thomas shook his head at the thought. "Speaking of that, below B?"

"Below B class migrants are categorized as such for various reasons." He tapped the keyboard with one hoof. "Classes run A through E, with F being reserved only for when a migrant appears to be more of a monster than a creature, and all ponies are well advised to stay away. C could just be grumpy, but there are social issues present. Approach with caution. D and E are actively dangerous to an increasing level. Be glad you didn't rank that."

"No, I am not even near dangerous." Thomas rubbed his arm nervously. "So why have classes at all?"

The pony snickered and flicked his ears. "Because we are ponies. We get scared easily. Having a mark that means a trained pony gave you a look and rated you means we don't have to panic."

Thomas squinted at him. "I guess that makes sense. So I'm good?"

"You're fine, Mr..." He inclined his head.

"Thomas." He grinned sheepishly. "Nice to meet you."

"You too." He laughs as he clicks at the writer. "See, classic B. Now, the number, hm. You're here for a house, right? Your number entitles you to a modest abode."

Spike puffed out his chest. "That's what we're here for."

"Alright. One moment." He quickly wrote something on a notepad and tore it off. "There you are. This will let you get into any of the vacant lots. None available above your rating. Spike, you know the way?"

Spike shook his head. "I was hop—" He recoiled, a scroll thrust against him. "Oh, thanks."

The clerk nodded. "Bring it back when you're done, please. Have fun! Welcome to Ponyville!"

Thomas collected the paper from the desk and examined it. It seemed official enough. There was an official seal and some very important looking words that he could not read, though it appeared to be all just friendly well-wishes. "Guess that's the key." He tucked it into a pocket and left with Spike at his side. "I have a question."

"Shoot." Spike pat his chest. "I can answer."

"What is this?" He tapped at the mask stuck to his face. "It doesn't get in the way of breathing or eating or anything, but it used to talk and stuff, and now it's just kinda stuck."

Spike squinted up at the mask. "Can't say I know much about that." He shrugged and looked away. "Never seen a mask that was alive before. Twilight might know, though." He frowned a moment before he snapped his fingers. "Actually, forget her. Zecora! She loves masks." He led the way through town. "First, let's see some houses, yeah?"

"Good idea." Thomas glanced down at the map. "Hm, there's three places listed here. One down that road, another around this corner, and one in this forest?"

Spike pointed. "Right around the corner first then. Let's check it out." His pace hastened into a proper jog to see, just to slide to a halt. "Oh... hi, Derpy"

The pony just around the corner had a huge bow on her back and was struggling to climb onto a very big bag of something. "Oh, hiya Spike!" She waved with a big smile, faltering at Thomas came into view. One her eyes fell to his hand and she relaxed just as quickly. "Hi new creature!"

"Uh, hi." Thomas waved back at her. "Whatcha doing?"

Derpy pat the bag she was climbing onto. "These are special peaches for Princess Celestia. Don't want them to be late." She turned her back to him. "A postal mare's job is never done." She backed up, sliding the bag onto her back. "Have a great day! See you soon!"

Spike grinned and waved as Derpy went off. "Bye Derpy." He nudged Thomas. "Come on, just a little farther."

Thomas looked down at Spike as they walked. "Who was that?"

"Derpy, mailmare." Spike shrugged. "Nice pony. Oh, if you were looking at her eyes, she was born with that. Don't make it a big deal. She won't appreciate it."

"Alright." Thomas felt that was good advice. The world was already weirder than he had thought possible. It wouldn't be hard to get used to wall-eyed creatures. Besides, Derpy seemed adorably innocent at first brush. He stopped when Spike did. "Hm?"

"Right there." He pointed to a small one story wooden house. It fit in with most of the others of Ponyville, though clearly not made for a full-sized family. The whole thing looked cozy.

"I'm more into bricks myself, but this isn't bad." Thomas shrugged and approached the door. He pulled out the paper and examined it. "The paper just says... open?" He pressed the paper against the door and it shimmered, vanishing from his hand as the door opened on its own.

Thomas followed Spike inside, taking in the sight of the main room. "You'll get the paper back when you leave, I think." He waved around as he explored. "Not bad at all."

Thomas slipped into the bedroom, which was surprisingly big. It wasn't cramped in any sense, not even for a house built for ponies. "Huh." The bedroom even had enough space for, well, a bed. One that'd fit him, even! And a nightstand with a lamp.

Spike whistled. "Fancy. Some nice windows and everything. This looks perfect."

"Yeah, but I'd want more storage space." Thomas tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I think I like this one, though. Let's check out the other ones before I say yes though." He went for the door and stepped outside. With a knock, the paper appeared and fell into his waiting hand. The door casually locked itself. "That is kinda cool."

They went off to see the second home, which was in a nearby forest. It was much more enclosed and covered in dirt than the last one. The walls were dirt and the roof was also made of sticks. Thomas shook his head at it, not even approaching the door. "Not my style."

Spike led the way next back to the third house. "Third time's the charm, right?"

"So they say." Thomas followed him back into town, going around another corner. He found himself standing before a big white tower with red trim. The large front door was fancy and wooden, and quite familiar to Thomas. He knocked on it without thinking. His paper vanished. "This is neat, but is also a tower, not a house. Did they make a mistake?"

Spike shrugged on his way in. "If it was the wrong house, the paper wouldn't have worked. I think you just lucked out."

The interior of the tower was all that he would have expected of one. It was large, as towers tend to be. There was a wide set of stairs leading up along the back wall. A large desk was near the door, for some reason, and a small sitting area. Thomas tapped a foot on the floor, slowly turning. "This is neat, but way too much up and down." He looked up the stairs. "Thinking of using those every days is already annoying me. Okay, house 1. Going for that. Nice, simple, good."

Spike followed him out. "Hey, did you ever want a big castle for yourself?"

Thomas shook his head. "I got my fill of castles in that game I was playing before all this." He took the paper to the first house and knocked on that door. "Now how do I say 'this time for reals'?"

"How about 'this time for real'?" Spike suggested with a wink.

Thomas squinted at the open door. "This time for real?" The door shimmered, but no paper appeared. Instead, a key fell into his surprised hands.

Spike pointed at the key. "That's yours. Now, note, most ponies don't even bother locking their doors. We trust each other a lot."

"Alright." Thomas pocketed the key. "Why do I have one then?"

"Well, it looks good." Spike shrugged. "And having the option isn't bad. Ponies do it when they're leaving for a while, lets other ponies know they aren't just out for the day."

Thomas nodded along. "Makes sense." He entered his new home, feeling a chill as he did. It was... vacant, in every sense of the word. It felt weird to step inside without much of anything there. "I need furniture."

"You need to go to the bank, again." Spike was chuckling at the idea. "Ask them for a writ. You can take that to the furniture shop and get whatever you want, and it'll come out of your account. Ta da!"

"Huh." Thomas glanced around his new house. "I guess I can do that." He locked the door behind him, with the key in the lock. "So, how do you like my new home?"

Spike patted his new human friend. "It's nice, but empty, like you said. I'm saving my real opinion for after you get some furniture in there. I bet it'll look way better then." He pointed off to the tower he lived in. "Now, me? I get what you said. Going up and down stairs can be a real pain."

"I see you agree with me on that point." Thomas headed out, giving a cursory wave to Spike. "Meet you at the furniture place, okay?"

"Got it!" Spike took off ahead of him. "You have to see this guy's stuff! And, if you like writing, he has quills too. Odd combo, but he makes it work."

Author's Note

If only home ownership were so easy in America, or much anywhere else, eh?

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