Haute Couture

“The whole thing boils down to magnets,” Rarity said with a chuckle. “I’ve always been a mare of the arts, but as a worldly pony, I found the science of it quite fascinating.”

Across from her stood Sassy Saddles. Her jaw worked slowly from side to side. Her hooves dug deep marks into a folded stack of six hundred dollar sweaters.

“My R&D department helped make them.” A ghost of a smile played across Rarity’s face. “Your time-delay mechanism has a magnetic component next to the fuse. Takes almost nothing to heat it up enough to cause a spark. I’m honestly surprised your R&D teams didn’t catch that.” She giggled. “Unless... you don’t have an R&D team.”

Sassy’s lips peeled back. “I’m so grateful you caught that design flaw.”

“Perhaps for future variations, you could run your designs past my R&D team! It’s the princess of friendship. She has access to all sorts of labs and equipment. If you’re ever in need—” She put a little more spin on those words than was strictly necessary. “Just say the word.”

“You’re so kind.”

“I know! Technically speaking, I’m generosity, but I know what you meant.”

“So this... flaw, in Seasonal Fashion... did you tell anyone else about it?”

“Why, of course not! I am nothing if not tactful.”

“Tactful, yes. Except the event you hosted yesterday—”

“Oh, yes, that.” Rarity pinched a piece of dust off a six hundred dollar sweater. “Lucky for you, I thought of this ahead of time. Obviously nopony wants your signature line to be thrown into disrepute just because you can’t afford your own R&D. I did the right thing and omitted credit.”

Sassy’s eyes twitched. “You didn’t credit my work?”

Rarity shrugged. “Like you just said, I wouldn’t want to tell anyone else about your line’s sloppy, messy, lawsuit-inducing flaws.”

“Technically speaking,” Sassy said, her voice rising, “that’s not actionable. You sign a waver when you buy the outfit.”

“Ah,” Rarity giggled. “Silly me. I wouldn’t know! I got them all secondhoof.”

“What is actionable, Rarity, is what you did last night. If you programmed the showcase, and if you dissed my line, and if you used my hard work and ingenuity as a pyrotechnical background for your own line without giving requisite credit—” Her voice fell back to baseline. “Then there could be legal issues.”

“You’re so absolutely right, dear. But I think the blame ought to lie less with the mare who lit the fuse and more with the mare who put bombs in her skirts, hmm?”