An Affluent Zebra

Mister Banks estate really was a massive place. And apparently, the Castle in this town was even bigger. After Zharris assured Ronnie that Mister Banks wouldn't mind, they left the main hall and the majority of the function behind, taking to the smaller hallways and a much-preferred quiet. Even the music fades with the distance they make into the depths of the estate. His dress-shoes and her hooves didn't sound all that different, walking beside the other against the tile floors that stretched onward.

She keeps a slower pace, glancing occasionally at his leg. He's appreciative of the consideration, enjoying the slower pace as his eyes wander the halls they slowly wall down.

Despite the chandeliers, the statues... his eyes keep roaming back to Zharris, drawn by a force he's unfamiliar with, and unaware of as they continue to make conversation.

"Truly? Letters to anyone in a moments notice, massive stores of information available across not just your America, but the entire Earth..." Zharris mutters, doing well at hiding her shock to the claim.

"It's arguably our greatest wonder, and it's so standard for us at this point, it practically goes unnoticed. Well, until you don't have it anymore." Ronnie explains, patting the phone in his pocket. Zharris doesn't quite get the motion, but understands the sentiment well enough.

"I cannot decide if this ever-present access, or the laying of these 'Deep Sea Cables' is more impressive, considering you're a land species with none to assist you."

"Think you guys could pull off something similar? We stay in trade deals with each-other long enough, and we might even help you with it. Feels kind of inevitable that there's going to be crossover, especially in convenience."

"There is a few species of distant pony-tribe that inhabits the water... and perhaps our Kelpie could assist, but I'm unsure if they could handle the depths." Zharris muses, thinking aloud.

"Kelpie?" Ronnie repeats, surprised.

"Farasi is home to more than just Zebra. Not unlike Equestria, our main population leans on a trio. Zebra, Kelpie, and Abada." She explains, sighing wistfully.

"I've heard of Kelpie before, though they're a species spoken of in fantasy. But what's an Abada?" The existence of several fantastical species was one of the stranger things he's heard about the other side of the portal.

"Think... a Unicorn with two horns, one in front of the other, one shorter than the other." She tries to demonstrate with a hoof, pointing at her forehead.

"...A Rhino?" Ronnie asks after a pause.

"A what?" Zharris retorts.

"We also have a species that has two horns, though I wouldn't consider them pony-like. They're big, with leathery hides. Huge, even." Ronnie holds out his arms, trying to show the probable dimensions of one of the big creatures. Pretty much just a guess, but he knows they're huge.

"Huh. No, they're certainly not that stocky. I'm continuously confounded by just how similar our worlds are, despite the differences." Zharris hums, glancing off in thought.
"And there are Zebra, and... 'Horses' in your world, though they do not speak?"

"Right. We're the only species that has an advanced language and society, though there's a wide variety of human language and culture. I heard it made first contact pretty funny." Ronnie remembers hearing they nearly scuffed introductions by trying to treat their Royalty like a horse. Something with a carrot.

"Must be a lonely thing. I can hardly imagine an Equus without as many species dotting it's surface."

"Human's are a very social species, with a habit of domesticating pets. If we don't have each-other, we still find companionship in others." Ronnie shrugs.
"I've got a Cat at home. Keeps me good company."

"Do you now? I can only hope my companionship fares at least approvable in comparison." She goads, bumping against his leg. The good one, thankfully.
"...And Cats cannot speak, correct?"

"Ha, if only. No, he just purrs and knocks things over. Little rascal. Keeps me sane, though." Ronnie laughs, shaking his head.

Ronnie finds his thoughts bothered by a different kind question, however.

"Can I ask you something?" He suddenly asks, stopping in place.

"Of course?" Zharris returns, pausing alongside him.

"You don't seem terribly interested in all this. The event, the people or the ponies. You sound more excited when you speak of home, than anything." He remarks.

True to his suspicions, she glances past him, back towards the party before sighing, and brushing her hair aside.
"In truth? I'm really just here for the food." She answers quickly, stifling a laugh.

"Really?" Ronnie scoffs, incredulous.

"We don't have nearly as much sugar in our diets as these the Equestrian Ponies do. I view this outings to Mister Banks meetings almost like cheat days." She sighs with longing. Probably considering checking the tables again, if anything.
"I could simply send someone in my stead, or a gift, but the food makes his parties worthwhile. Half the time I try to bring something home with me, but our bakers don't quite have the same sweet tooth as the Ponies. They're never quite the same."

"Where did you say you're from, if I may ask? Farasi?" Ronnie asks, and she nods.

"Farasi, yes. Here, come this way. I'll explain dome of my homeland, if you explain some of yours? While we get you off your... hooves?" Zharris questions, glancing at his leg.

"Feet. And sure, I think I'd enjoy that." Ronnie nods, his silent suffering appeased.

"This way." She suddenly turns, heading down a smaller side hall, taking the lead.

Ronnie does his best to remain polite with where his gaze settles, but its hard not to look. Like he noticed earlier, her dress is very... snug, in certain places. Particularly the rear. Especially the rear.

She glances back, catching him staring. At first, just to ensure he was keeping up -- but when Ronnie glances away, she huffs in amusement.

And he swears there's a little more swing to her hips as she walks, after.

She leads him towards the back of the Estate, opposite the entrance and it's massive gardens, and sprawling yard. Here, it opens to a small courtyard, the open sky revealing a pool.

It's a gorgeous little spot, with stone-carved vases hosting variously colored, outright exotic looking flowers that do nothing but compliment the area. Open pillars and archways give the comparatively smaller area a very open feeling, with a stone-brick walk path surrounding a large, rectangular pool. The back portion of this little hideaway turns into a small garden, with a few trees forming a buffer to a few flowering bushes and colorful plants. As for the pool, it doesn't go very deep, but it's not like it's owner is a particularly tall species. Still, it's just as impressive as the rest of the estate, if only giving off a much more comfortable, tucked away feeling. Like a place to relax, away from prying eyes, tucked deep onto the estates grounds.

Ronnie wonders how well Ponies can swim. Probably not very well, but he's willing to give the benefit of the doubt.

"And here is the second reason I so enjoy Mister Banks functions." Zharris announces, coming to a stop by the waters edge, gesturing outward with her hoof.
"Most of the time, I'd bother one of the help to bring a plate of something delicious, and lounge here for hours..." she sighs wistfully, before giving him a coy look.
"Only this time, I'm beheld to some enjoyable company instead."

"Don't let me stop you from enjoying yourself." Ronnie laughs, holding up his hands.

"Oh, I won't." She leers.

Zharris uses her teeth to grab something that was hidden under the shoulder strap of her dress, tugging at it. The entire back-end of the dress simply... slips off and around her, like she pulled a hidden string that was keeping it all together. Revealing that the lengthy bits were but a mere attachment to a bathing suit underneath it all.

Before he can get a proper look at it, what's left of the dress is thrown his way, the satin material landing on his face -- Ronnie sputters, struggling a moment with the surprisingly soft article.

There's a splash, and a distant, haughty giggle before he finally manages to pull it off from himself.

She's watching him from the side of the pool, smiling to herself. Her fur and mane are wet, draping and dripping as she stares at him with half-lidded, curious eyes, gauging his reaction. The water beading from her fur is only further highlighting her from the light softly splashing across her and the waters surface.

"...Don't think mine can do that." Ronnie manages to comment aloud, not quite sure what to do with the clothes thrown at him. He awkwardly tries to start folding it, trying to play it off.

"Perhaps not... but my eyes do spot buttons on that jacket." She hums, turning away as she starts to slowly float through the water, towards the middle of the pool.

Ronnie definitely doesn't have a bathing suit under his clothes.

Then again, a dip could be nice.

Finding the nearest stone bench, Ronnie lays the folded remains of the dress down, before starting at his jacket.

"You had asked me about Farasi?" He hears from the water.

Zharris has made her way around, now once again close to the edge of the pool. It seems to get deeper in the center, and slowly ramp into a pony-standable depth at it's corners. She leans against the side of it, propping her hooves up and out of the water, watching him. Whatever she's used for her eyeshadow and nails seems pretty resilient to the water, holding firm.

"Uh... yeah. You mentioned Kelpie and... Adabra?" Ronnie tries to recall, hands roaming to his uniforms top buttons.

"Abada." She softly corrects, now leaning her head on her hoof, getting comfortable.

Compared to her quick, almost magic-trick redressing, he feels a lot more exposed as she watches. Is that her being unaware of the connotations, or...?

Her eyes are slowly trailing him over, settling on watching his fingers work. She knows exactly what she's doing.

Ronnie clears his throat, getting a little hot in the face.

"Your hooves are so strange." She comments idly, smiling, before continuing as if she never said anything.
"Farasi lays across the water to Equestria, to the South-East. Most of our product, and letters, are exchanged through maritime vessels. Though for letters of importance, we'll throw in the extra Bits to get it delivered by specialized long-range pegasi couriers. It's a bit too far of a distance for most Unicorns to use any form of teleportation, unfortunately." She begins explaining, her tail slowly swishing through the water, creating ripples that only draw more attention to the golden gleam of her once-dress. Unlike the ponies tails of what looks like all-hair, the only hair she has is at the tip of her tail, more akin to a cow's than that of a horse or pony.

"Bits? That's what you guys call your money, right?" Ronnie asks, trying to keep his focus on the conversation.
"You're sure Mister Banks doesn't mind if we use the pool?"

Still a good question to ask, even if it's a little late for it now.

"Oh, he'd just be glad somepony is actually using it." She waves a hoof, now leaning forward on both of them.
"Bits are a universal currency, yes. And yours uses... dollars, I believe?"

"America uses the American Dollar, or USD. Each nation uses it's own form of currency, though they all use some form of paper money with an agreed upon amount that... fluctuates." Ronnie slowly trails off, realizing he's run out of buttons to undo on his jacket.

"Really? That seems... complicated. Impressive that they all can agree on the amounts, however, I could only imagine all the bickering that might cause."

"It's a touchy topic. A universal currency might help, but no nation wants to just give up their own currency. There's been some conflicts about the topic, but our level of worldly interconnection is helping stem that."

Ronnie folds slides his jacket off, folding it up and placing it carefully beside the dress, leaving him with just his simple undershirt.

Time for pants. Well, shoes. Then pants.

"I hope you don't mind that I'm watching. I didn't realize how many layers humans tend to wear." Zharris comments. There's a genuine curiosity to her staring, half-lidded and haughty as it is.
"Is this what you wear when you're working?"

"Not quite. It's my dress uniform, meant for ceremony and events. Our Firefighting gear is a lot bulkier. You might see one of the other guys wearing it for demonstration, later." Ronnie explains.

"And why can't I see you in it?" She asks, making a 'Hmm?' face.

Ronnie pauses mid-unbuckling of his belt.

"Not right now, obviously." She adds, snorting to herself.

Fair. He keeps undressing, slipping off his pants, and placing them with the rest. With only underwear underneath those, his legs are completely visible -- as is the still-bandaged injury. Unlike the young Heiress and her slowly recovering burns, Ronnie's injury is tucked underneath a firmly-placed patch that sits on his upper thigh.

While he didn't have any other blatant injuries to ogle at, Zharris seems to find no shortage of interest in the rest of him, eyes practically glued to his form as she casually floats.

"Your species is just... fascinating, to witness up close. Until now, all I had was word of mouth about... well, they tried to compare your kind to some kind of diminutive minotaur, but I just don't see it. Perhaps the musculature..." She comments, not exactly being subtle. His line of work did keep him pretty fit.

How did she get away with slipping out of hers? Ronnie feels like he's part of a strip tease.

For a Zebra. What a world he lives in.

Whatever, he's been a part of one of those firefighter calendars before. Reaching for his undershirt, Ronnie pulls it up and over his head, huffing loudly as he's in the closest thing he's got to a swimsuit.

"Does it hurt at all?" She asks, leaning forward, motioning at his leg.

Ronnie sets the shirt down, glancing at his injury.

"Dull throbs here and there. Didn't hit anything important, thankfully. They said it looked like a table leg was sticking out of me, so I consider myself pretty lucky."

"You don't even know what was in your leg?" Her surprised tone almost gets a laugh out of her.

"Too much smoke, and focused on other things." Ronnie shrugs, stepping to the side of the pool. He dips a toe in -- the suns been keeping it warm, thankfully.

She takes the opportunity to look closer at his legs, and feet, humming in curiosity.

"Did you get me here just so you could see what a Human looks like under all their clothes?" Ronnie guesses, sitting down and submerging his legs.

"I'd be lying if self-serving curiosity was not one of the reasons, though there are others." Zharris playfully assures, sat only a foot or so from him as he climbs in.

Ronnie would just deal with the wet underwear. No time to be a sourness. He slips into the pool fully... and yeah, he's gotta sit down in it to get it up to his chest. It's not very deep.

Zharris hums, smiling at him.
"Still curious?"

"About Farasi? Absolutely." Ronnie responds, running wet hands through his hair, sticking it back and out of the way.
"Given your love for the water, would I be right if I guessed you had a pool?"

"I do not, actually." Zharris shakes her head, pushing off the wall. She slowly floats towards the center of the pool head held high.
"And that's thanks to the Kelpies. Not in a bad way, but their reliance on nearby water-sources, and the naturally drier region has resulted in an abundance of public bathhouses." Zharris explains, closing her eyes as she floats into a spot of sunlight, basking in it. A long, slow exhale slowly escapes her.
"While primarily for the Kelpie, it was a simple step forward to include room for the Abada and Zebra. Private pools like this, if one is not a Kelpie, is viewed as wasteful."

That explains her unabashedness towards the whole pool thing.

"Kelpie are like, water ponies, right?" Ronnie presses, still a bit confused. It sounded like there was some overlap.

"They're actually partly made of water, unlike the Merponies that live off the coasts. And while I don't know too much about Merponies..."
Zharris opens her eyes, nearing the other, opposite edge of the pool.
"It grants them enough time to remain on land for lengthy periods, but to maintain their health, they need to remain close to a water source. A Kelpie that dries out is an unfortunate fate." Zharris continues. As she softly bumps the edge, she uses her hooves to push off again, towards Ronnie's side of the pool.

"So Farasi is kind of a... savannah?" Ronnie guesses, going off the idea of their weirdly similar worlds. It sounds like if anything, Farasi is almost like an African or Sub-Saharan region.

"In some places, yes. Desert in others, plains, forests... it's not nearly as humid as it is here. Most of our cities are near coasts or rivers, however. If one goes too deep into Farasi, only the endless sands await them." Zharris affirms.
"But our home, as hot as it is, is rife with resources that have allowed us great opportunity. As I said earlier... or, tried to, Mister Banks works in the textiles industry. He's invested in numerous businesses, both local and international, that produce goods from fabrics and the like." Zharris explains as she floats towards Ronnie, eyes still closed, simply enjoying the sun.

"Really? Didn't catch me as the type of business he'd be doing. Hard to imagine him making a dress." Ronnie notes, glancing back towards the door. The visual of Mister Banks hunched over a sewing machine couldn't help but work its way into his mind.

"That's the thing. Mister Banks doesn't. He's actually the logistical landline." Zharris corrects -- right as she softly bumps into Ronnie, fur meeting skin.

Her eyes quickly flit open, flinching as she realizes. She wasn't paying attention to their proximity, and looks a little startled for it.
"Oh! Apologies."

"All good. Need another push?" Ronnie offers, smiling, lifting his hands out of the water.

"Would you?" She asks softly, a light warmth resting on her snout.

Zharris leans into him, back to his chest as Ronnie carefully positions his hands against her, partially against the soft, but bristle fur of her body, and the smooth texture of her bathing suit. Giving her a gentle push, she's back to aimlessly floating through the pool, exhaling loudly as she relaxes, soaking it all in.

"Thank you." She calls over, slowly gaining distance again.

"Sure. You said Mister Banks was the landline? Like, he's the... support?" Ronnie asks, getting comfortable again himself. Emboldended, he's shuffling towards the middle of the pool, where the water gets deeper, finally reaching his neck as he sits on the bottom, tile to his skin.

"Yes, basically. He doesn't actually have a hoof in the industries themselves, so to speak, but he handles the transportation, logistics, the books... he's a shockingly clever stallion, and has continuously earned my own and others trust when it comes to procuring what we need, or handling our product on time."

"So he works in transport rather than textiles?"

"I say he works in the textiles industry because that is his primary focus. His specialization. Sending out fabrics, wool, silk and such from manufacturers like myself, to the tailors, carpet makers and so on that he's in business with, and getting those to more profitable markets. There are few that know the world's trade and trading hubs routes like him."

"That's impressive. Sounds like it'd take a lot of legwork to keep that kind of thing going, with that many branches." Ronnie whistles, impressed.

"That's why his parties tend to lean on the extravagant. He works hard, and relaxes equally so. And why he holds the trust of his partners -- I can't the times he's personally stepped in to ensure that materials or product made it where they needed to be, on time, at his own cost."

"Been working with him for a while?"

"The last five years. International businesses like mine are not rare in Farasi, considering our high exports and abundance of sought-after materials."

"What kind of fabrics do you handle?"

"I provide the tools and assistance for several of our local farmers, with most of our product deriving from plants, like flax and cotton, while running a small silkwyrm farm myself. Though there are others forms, that's one of the most populous forms of job."

"So your dress... or bathing suit now. Home grown, or home made?"

"You noticed? Both, actually." Zharris chirps in surprise as she sits up in the water, standing on her back hooves and spinning about to face him.

She slowly walks towards him as she speaks, treading towards the shallower end as the water ripples around her.
"It was a personal project of mine... I harvested the silk from the wyrms myself, you see... it's a laborious process, but they're quite docile at this point in their domestication..."

Ronnie, though try as he might, is distracted by more than just her explanation by how shes pronouncing 'worms'. As she speaks, Zharris is slowly running her hoof over herself, tracing parts of her bathing suit.

From the straps that line her neck, slowly down her barrel, even tracing down her stomach. Stood on her hind legs like this, wading through the crystal-clear warm water, her shapely figure only becomes more obvious. It's very hard not to look, especially with how she's so subsumed in explaining what is clearly her passion. There's this gorgeous, ever-present smile on her face, even as her wet mane drapes down and hides most of her face, as she explains each part that went into the creation of this dress. He's glad he folded it up properly, she seems incredibly fond of it.

"...Silk dresses like this aren't the most common in Farasi, primarily from how much of a hassle silk wyrms can be. Proper pedigree and all that. Most of our silk is used in things like pillow cases, or blankets, but I just felt like I had to try and make something with it, you know?" Zharris continues, finally looking up from herself to him. She's gotten close enough that the water is no longer deep enough to support her, as she comes back down to four legs instead of two with the softest of splashes.

The water from her returning to all fours ripples against his skin, a silence settling over the tucked-away, watery courtyard. Ronnie hardly realizes she's prompting him, simply enjoying soaking in the waters with company he enjoys listening to.

"Mister Harrelson?" She asks, tilting her head.
"Still with us?"

He blinks, snapping out of his stupor.
"...You're very passionate about your craft, aren't you?" Ronnie finally speaks up, shifting in the water.
"There's this excitement that I can see on your face when you're speaking. You really enjoy what you do."

"Ha." She glances away, sighing loudly.
"I... do, yes. Quite a bit. Though these days, my hooves don't often find time for my own craft, I've long held an interest in this kind of thing. My mother showed my how to weave, how to sew, patterns... she always thought I'd take after her in carpet making, then I walk in wearing a dress of my own making. A garish thing, and a waste of material... the way I made it, it was basically just wearing a carpet, but she could see how proud I was of it. I just enjoy making things. Seeing others works and being inspired by them. Collaborating with an Equestrian partner has opened my eyes to quite a few designs... though I don't think their love of frills will sell back in Farasi. They prefer cloaks and shawls, as of recent. It's a bit of a trend." She continues, gesturing behind herself as if she was sweeping a billowing cape from her shoulder.

"Do Kelpie buy clothes? Like, do they only buy bathing suits? Or does any order from them need to be waterproof?" Ronnie asks, running dripping wet hands through his damp hair.

"Well... not really. You can only waterproof most materials so much, and since Kelpie are partially constituted of water, they don't like when their clothes steal their water. And proper, completely water-proofed, entirely resilient materials are not commercially viable. Too much cost, not enough demand." Zharris explains, splashing through the water as she gets closer, closing their distance again. This time, it seems more intentional.

"Huh. Hard to imagine your clothes fighting you for your food." Ronnie snorts.

Zharris chuckles, smiling.
"Right? Now, Zebra on the other hand... utilitarian to a fault. They hardly buy anything that isn't belts, bags, or clothing for weather. Abada are the only ones that properly like trinkets, but they prefer ones of the metallic consistency. Something about how their magic resonates with it, and such craft is unfortunately outside of my field. Really, my sales only took off when we went international, though I've been meaning to try and hire a smith or somepony who knows jewelry. We were stuck with bags, pouches and cloaks for years." She rolls her eyes dramatically, before laughing quietly.

"Must be an expert at those by now."

"Well, not to inflate my own ego... but you wouldn't be wrong." She playfully gloats, before making a face.
"Ah. I realize, you asked about Farasi, and all I've done is talk about my business."

"I think you were quite informative, honestly. Nothing better than learning something from someone's own experience." Ronnie objects, now pushing off from the shallower end himself.

He's not exactly floating, even in the deepest middle of the pool, slowly drifting past an amused Zharris, politely trying to stifle a laugh. She can see his feet dragging the ground, Ronnie looking more like one of those all-too revealing pictures of alligators and crocodiles sat in a river then anything else.

"What?" He presses after looking at her smirk, hidden behind a hoof.

"Sorry... it isn't rude of me to find amusement in witnessing how you simply do not fit within Equestria's typical boundaries, is it?" Zharris manages, though barely.

"You've left me wounded and in complete despair." Ronnie notes flatly, rising out of the water. Even standing in the deepest part of Mister Banks pool, it hardly even comes up to his stomach.

Zharris watches, as like a crippled tower slowly losing it's foundation, Ronnie falls backwards. She makes a surprised noise, hiding behind her mane and hooves as the water splashes from his high-velocity impact.

"My sincerest apologies." She manages between quiet snickers, flicking loose droplets as Ronnie now floats aimlessly on his back.

The view of the open ceiling, revealing the sky and warm sun above, nary a cloud in the sky, is soon intruded upon by a striped face leaning over him, predates by the impending splashes of her swimming towards him.

"...I know I have caused you a most grevious wound, Mister Harrelson... but might I ask of you a favor?" The tilted head of Zharris, ever-smiling, slowly asks.

"For you?" Ronnie tsks dramatically, huffing loudly.
"Yeah, sure, why not. What did you have in mind?"

"Might you tell me of Earth? I'm still terribly curious of the land beyond the portal." She says quietly.

Ronnie nods, remembering that information was a premium around here. Plus, he'd got her talking about her own land and people plenty. It's only fair.

"What did you want to know?" Ronnie grunts, pushing himself back to a proper, upright position.

Notably, Zharris doesn't back up once he's stable, still quite close as she watches him.
"I have heard that your kind has found a way to fly... and yet you do not have wings, nor magic. How have you accomplished this?"

"Well, I'm not an Aerospace Engineer... but I can give you the simple rundown." Ronnie shrugs.

"I would enjoy that. If you don't mind me having stolen you away from your party for so long." Zharris muses, scooting slightly closer. He can feel her fur brush against his skin, and the smoothness of her self-made bathing suit.

"Steal away. I'm enjoying this, one odd-one-out to another." Ronnie reassures her, which only seems to embolden her, a hoof resting on his arm.

"Also... what are those things on the end of your hoof for? They're... hands, correct?" She asks, glancing curiously at his fingers.

"Here." Lifting a hand from the water, Ronnie holds it out towards her, palm facing upwards and fingers flexing. She glances between him and his limb curiously, before carefully touching his hand with a hoof, tracing his skin. Her hoof roams up his arm, until the flat of her hoof sits squarely in his palm.

Slowly, Ronnie closes his hand over it, Zharris making a surprised noise as he encapsulates her hoofend.

"That is... so strange." Zharris mutters, leaning even closer to see.

"Fingers, attached to my hands. Four of them, and a thumb. I find your hoof way more interesting, though." Ronnie remarks, getting a snrrk from Zharris.

"My hoof? How so?" She retorts, unbelieving in his statement.

"No magic, and yet our cultures and technologies are so similar. I see ponies use things that I would swear only a pair of hands could operate it, yet it's like magic holds onto things for them, let's you grasp things. Like that shrimp-cupcake-thing earlier. If I tried to eat it the same way? All over the floor." Ronnie snorts, getting a laugh out of Zharris.

"Well, perhaps I can teach you, then. It's much simpler than you think."
She pulls her hoof from his hand, upturning it and presenting the bottom of it.

"Go on, touch it." She offers, smiling.

A little apprehensive, Ronnie presses a single finger against her... palm? It's surprisingly soft, despite his expectations.

"You walk on these?" He asks, confused.

"We do. Why?" She returns, equally as confused.

"On Earth, horses hooves are hard. Let's them walk on most terrain without issue. And... what would you call this?" He pokes at her 'palm' again.

"My frog?"

"...Your frog?"

"The underside of the hoof, yes. It's the frog." She leers, giving him a look.
"You have frogs where you are from, I assume?"

"Sure. Like, the animal. This is my palm." Ronnie says, before asking; "Do you guys have palm trees?"

"We do...? Ah, like your palms? I see the wordplay." She nods.

"...Guess we both name things similarly." Ronnie huffs, letting his curiosity get the better of him.
"It's much softer than I expected..." He mumbles, tracing and exploring her hoof with interest. Zharris seems content in letting him, though her breathing is growing... heavier, as his touch continues.

"As are you. Your skin has so much... squish, so much give to it." Zharris notes, her other hoof now tracing along his arm, eyes roaming to his bare torso. Your lack of fur is... your musculature is much clearer." She muses.

"It's why clothing is a must for my people, in most situations. Let's us live all over the world." Ronnie notes, watching her gaze.

"I can hardly imagine Zebra's living across every inch of Equus comfortably... perhaps I should consult with some of earth's designers, and see if some of your kinds clothes might be applicable." Zharris muses aloud, though her words don't align with where her interest currently lays.

She hasn't taken her eyes off his body for the last minute.

"You can touch my chest with more than your eyes. I won't be offended." Ronnie offers, Zharris' gaze snapping to his the moment the words leave his mouth.

"Are you certain? I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable." She quickly checks.

He had already touched her to push her through the water. It'd only be fair, really. Plus, kind of funny. He hadn't expected this kind of reaction, but it was far from bothering him.

"Go for it." He offers, leaning back in the water, letting himself float.

She seems almost outright excited at the prospect, as her hooves tenderly touch his chest. It's kind of funny, how subsumed in fascination she is with his form. He didn't expect her to be quite this interested in him, on a physical level.

"You're... fit for your species, aren't you?" She asks quietly, eyes still glued to him.

"Mmhm. Have to be. Part of the job." Ronnie mumbles, letting his own eyes slowly coast the edges of the courtyard, and the overhanging tiles that reflect the days light. It's actually starting to get closer to late evening, the glow turning a clean gold that starts tinting the courtyard in long shadows. How long have they been away from the others?

"...I see." Zharris mumbles, one of her hooves trailing down his chest, across his stomach. Ronnie was probably in the best shape of his life, thanks to his career. Not quite shredded, but the hard work showed.

"As for your other question, about flight. Big metal birds." Ronnie harks back to before their current distraction, to gauge her level of interest.

"Hmm...?" She mumbles. It takes a second for her to actually glance up at his face, her eyes taking a second to catch up to her scout's movements.

"You asked how Humanity has achieved flight. We ride in big metal birds. It's a big business. I could see it coming to Equus, just like internet."

"How does that work? Does it... hold you in it's talons? Is it a machine, or a living thing that you've domesticated, like the dog?"

"You know a surprising amount for someone who claims to have been deprived of information." Ronnie absent-mindedidly comments, a playful smirk appearing.
"You're not a... spy or something hm?"

Zharris snorts, a smile forming on her lips.
"And if I was? Would you... oust me to the guard, to be dragged away?" She asks quietly, giving him a coy look.

"Hmmmm...." Ronnie hums, dragging out his answer dramatically.

"Not terribly patriotic of you, to hesitate for so long." She teases, prodding his side.

"Perhaps I'm just too fond of current company already -- my first Equus friend. Loyalty is a big thing for humans."

"Is it now? Loyalty to whom, hmm?" Zharris hums, giving him a look.

Ronnie only smiles, as Zharris shakes her head, continuing.
"I've been very curious, getting my hooves on everything I can. It hasn't been easy, and I'm sure a fair amount of what I know is peppered by rumor and exaggeration, but this kind of event can hardly be contained."

"Equestria trying to keep it for themselves?"

"It's less so Equestria trying to keep things from getting out... and more Equestrians being so excited for it, it's difficult for anything to actually make it's way out of Equestria without being gobbled up by it's Ponies." Zharris corrects.
"The portal is the most exciting thing of this age."

"I'd ask if we're really that fascinating, but..." Ronnie trails off, glancing down to watch her hooves. They still slowly work over his torso, one now rounding his shoulder, the other resting on his side.

"...Guilty as charged. But the metal birds... living metal?" She prompts, playful curiosity still twinkling in her eyes.

Ronnie relents, leaning back and continuing.
"Well, the metal birds are in fact, machines. Completely hollow, a bunch of humans climb inside, and a pilot flies them to their destination. Imagine... you pack a bag, go to the train. You guys have trains, right?"

"We do not, but Equestria holds a central train line that reaches most of it's settlements. Why?" Zharris answers quickly. She really does love to learn -- Ronnie would love to pick her brain over a few things. Maybe over a coffee or something.

"Instead of following tracks, it takes off. Into the air by several thousand feet, and flies... say, from Equestria's capital to Farasi's capital." Ronnie starts, a dripping hand raising from the water to demonstrate, held flat and pointed as if it were a tiny, fleshy aircraft.
"Takes a couple of hours, lands, everyone walks off. Then, picks up some ponies from Farasi, and flies them somewhere else. On Earth, hundreds of planes fly a day, with thousands of passengers daily. I'm probably low-lying the numbers, honestly. It's as much of a worldly convenience as the internet." Ronnie explains, despite Zharris' look of growing disbelief.

"That easily?"

"It's the culmination of a thousand years of dreaming, and hundreds of years of progress."

"To fly like a... Griffon, or a Pegasus, and to carry hundreds? Thousands?" Zharris remarks.
"These are things the common pony could only dream of... the way you speak of things makes me want to visit Earth. To witness these things for myself."

"I'd love to offer to put a good word in, but I'm not nearly as influential as someone like Mister Banks." Ronnie shrugs, grinning.
"Maybe I could hide you under my coat on my way home."

"Ha. Right, like we wouldn't be caught immediately. Still, as tempting as the offer is... I'll wait. It seems Earth is coming to Equus either way, if what you speak of is true. I'm thankful it's Equestria that is gaining access to these... conveniences."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"Equestria's rulers. They are devout in the belief of Harmony -- peace between the tribes, the Nations. While the effects and efforts of that may be hotly debated by anypony wishing to call themselves a philosopher, I believe the mindset will lead to a prosperous sharing. Or so I hope. I really want to fly on one of these metal vehicles." Zharris admits, growing a touch bashful.

"I don't blame you. But, uh... who are Equestria's rulers, again?"

"Have you not heard of them? The Princesses, who control the Sun and the Moon."

Ronnie gives her a look.
"...You're joking. Right?"

"No. Entirely serious. Magic, remember?" Zharris affirms, despite Ronnie's raised eyebrow. He watches her face for a moment, but she is, in fact, entirely serious.

"So... two Princesses are responsible for day and night around here? How do the other nations feel about that?" He waves a hand, slowly rotating to float upwards again.

"It... varies. Most keep positive relations with Equestria, but they do not forget the power that Equestria holds. Yet another hotly debated topic at most tables that care for such things." Zharris trails after him, coasting through the water as the pair head back towards the shallower end.

"Sounds... dicey. Politically." Ronnie comments, Zharris nodding at the comment.

"That's why I'm glad Equestria holds the Portal. They'll at least approach it with an... amicable mindset." She explains.

"And not Farasi?" Ronnie asks, surprised.

"Hm. If Farasi held the portal to Earth, I doubt I ever would have met you. More than likely, the Portal would have been locked away, or they would have tried to close it. The Zebra can be... overtly cautious." She continues, pressing up against the side of the pool as the two settle against it's edge, leaning on the tiled lip.

"Not very patriotic of you." Ronnie parrots from earlier, Zharris scoffing and rolling her eyes.
"You seem very knowledgeable of Equestria, despite being from Farasi." Ronnie adds, resting his head against his arm.

"Of course. In my dealings with Mister Banks, I've ensured that I'm studied up on Equestria and it's history. It only helps to serve my business, after all." Zharris answers, crossing her hooves against the ground and resting her own head on it.

"Look at you go. The studious type."

"So I am. I deeply enjoy learning new things, as Equus has so much to offer. And now, Earth too."

"And how has your hoofs-on learning experience on a subject from Earth been?" Ronnie teases, tapping her leg with a finger.

"Quite... enjoyable, I would have to say. You've been a most willing subject, and I thank you for the unique experience." She notes, returning the touch by softly tapping his chest with her hoof. Part of her side-swept dripping wet mane slips back over her face, despite trying to tuck it back behind her ear numerous times, Zharris tsking loudly in growing irritation.

"May I?" Ronnie offers, lifting a hand.

"Hm?" Zharris hums, distracted. Her eyes widen as Ronnie leans forward, slipping his hand underneath her mane, carefully lifting it and tucking it away from her face.

As his hands brush the fur of her head, her eyes begin to close, a slow smile forming on her lips -- that dissapears the moment he pulls his hand away.

"There you are." Ronnie says simply, leaning on his arm again.

"...Hold on." Zharris blinks.

"Mmhm?"

"...Do that again." She affirms firmly, moving closer to him.

"Do what? Brush your hair aside? Did it already slip back?" He asks, confused. It was still tucked behind her, out of the way.

"No. Run your hand through my hair again. Make sure it touches the fur."
She states it firmly and clearly, gesturing to herself.

"...Miss Zharris, are you asking me to pet you?" Ronnie tries to clarify, expecting a negative reaction.

Instead, he's met with an equally confused Zharris.

"I... may very well be. Please? I need to check something."
She doesn't even sound entirely sure of it herself, like she's just trying to figure something out.

"Sure, if you're sure you're alright with it." Ronnie shrugs. And rather simply, propping himself up with his other arm, Ronnie's hand roams from his side, to Zharris' neck and scalp, slowly tracing through her still damp fur, softly scratching at the back of her head, digging his fingers through the base of her mane.

And she is melting in his grasp, her decorum simply slipping away.

"...By the rising sun, that is... spectacular." She mumbles, her kids drooping heavily as she leans into it... and by proxy, him, pressing up again his chest with her body as she pushes herself against his hand, her back to his torso. She's just resting against his chest at this point, humming in contentment.

And rather than say anything, Ronnie just enjoys the moment. Her fur, despite having an almost bristly feel to it, is lavishly soft, no doubt the victim of an extensive self-care routine. Both the fur that he feels with his hand, and the fur that's rubbing against his torso, feels like a warm blanket is perpetually snuggling closer against him. Not to mention the touch-feel of her swimsuit against his skin.

She leans her head back, practically nuzzling her head into his neck as she sighs wistfully. A bit of an awkward angle, but she seems to be enjoying this far too much to just let up for the sake of a little hand cramp. It's his duty as a species with opposable thumbs to pet those without, after all.

"You know..." Zharris finally manages after a long moment of soaking up the attention.
"I don't have to be the only one who gets a chance to explore another species."

"Hm? What do you mean by that?" Ronnie asks, glancing down at her.

He can feel Zharris laugh softly against him, as her hooves reach out for his other, unoccupied hand... guiding it to rest against her exposed stomach, as she lays against his side. His fingers splay out across her underside, shifting the material of her transformed dress.

"It wouldn't be considered fair if I was the only one allowed a look, now would it? But, uh... do continue to do the thing with your hand, and my hair. If you don't mind." She asks curtly, a small blush settled across her snout as she looks at his hand, resting flat against her.

He'd never been invited to simply... explore someone' else's figure before, but when in Equestria, he supposes.

It wasn't an invitation to ignore, either. Deapite their difference in species, his roaming hand still recognized the shapeliness of her form, the curves in her figure. There were hints of muscle hidden underneath firm flesh, all tucked below a sea of white and black bristles that his fingers curved through. From her waist, up towards her chest -- or her barrel, if he could focus long enough to remember terminology.

This is probably where her breasts would be, judging by her reaction. Kind of a funny thought, but the unmistakable, feminine curve of her chest can't help but see a bust, even on a creature without one. There's a sharp gasp that escapes Zharris, her back arching to his meandering touch.

A lot of the other Ponies were simply... well, they looked cute, ultimately. They were short, waist height, with big eyes that loved to stare.

But Zharris?

Everything about her spoke, without saying a single word, a unique breed of sensual creature; and Ronnie could feel his own face redden as the late evening continued in a way he had never expected, but was... surprisingly alright with.

Surrounded by gold-tinted shimmering water, and shadows that partially cast them in the dark, they felt a privacy that was typically unafforded by the open construct of the pool and it's courtyard. But the only beauty of his surroundings worthy of his attention, was the companion that had sought him out amidst the bustle of the party.

With one hand slowly tracing the base of her ear, Zharris' hoof rests on the other, far more bold limb that begins a slow, downward drift along her body. Following the curve of her barrel as he returns to her stomach, his fingers wide as they slide across slick, satin material, wandering lower towards her wide, inviting hips, her tail twisting about in the water.

Her hind legs twitch in excitement, making a small splash in the water that takes them both out of the moment.

"You are... very skilled, with these hands of yours, Mister Harrelson." Zharris manages, between heavier, excited breaths. She manages to look up at his face, a small smile showing as he meets her gaze. Her words are quiet, and soft, as if embarrassed.
"I fear... this may have been beyond my intentions, and I am in too deep, if I may admit."

Ronnie's hand pauses at it reaches her hips, tilting his head to face her better.
"What do you mean?" He asks just as quietly, confused.

"I... truly meant to offer you an equal chance to explore a zebra personally. But my... offer seems to have backfired, just a little. Your hands. They are... much better at this kind of thing than my hooves, and I find myself going down an unexpected road."

Ronnie can hardly stifle the laugh that wriggles out of him, the offending hand lifting from her body -- though the one on her head remains.
"You meant it in a completely serious, non-flirtatious way, didn't you?"

"Yes. Well, mostly, but yes." She affirms, biting her lip.

"Mostly?"

"I meant it, when I said I'm not... particularly interested in the type of nights these parties devolve into." Zharris says, releasing a long-held exhale.

"Neither am I, really."

"And yet..."

"Here we are?" Ronnie snorts, before the two share a look, breaking into a fit of giggles.

"Here we are. A consequence of my species likeness for social contact and physical interaction, and... some miscommunication on my part, I would guess. I won't lie, I hold an... odd interest in you, Mister Harrelson, and I find it difficult to hide. You are an oddity, yet I cannot seem to take my eyes off of you." Zharris softly admits, one of her hooves straying through her mane idly.

"Or your hooves." Ronnie adds, grinning.

"...Or my hooves." She relents after a pause, huffing quietly to herself.
"This behavior is unbecoming of me..."

"That's alright, Miss Zharris. We don't have to do anything you're uncomfortable with or unprepared for." Ronnie reassures her, offering her a light ear scratch. She leans into it, almost humming loudly.

"Are you certain? I don't wish to make you feel as if you'd been lead along... I'd hate to ruin the rapport we've spent the evening building."

"I appreciate you speaking up about it. I won't lie either, there's a strangeness to our situation and the differences in our species... but I would love to get to know you better over, say... dinner?" Ronnie offers, smiling.

"Dinner? I think I would like that a lot, Mister Harrelson. I should be in Canterlot for a few more days... perhaps we can look into how long you'll be here for, and meet for something. My treat, of course." She says proudly, trying to regain some composure.

"You sure? That's very kind of you to offer, Miss Zharris. I'll take you up on that." Ronnie chirps, leaning closer against her. Zharris' attempt to recompose promptly crumbles, sighing wistfully as his skin brushes her fur.

"It's... the least I can do." She manages, making another attempt.
"Now, I... am going to try to get up. I may need your help, as this position isn't exactly advantageous for me." Zharris mutters, glancing back and forth.

She's still nestled against his side, laid on her back, though now she's looking to get up from the position. It's be pretty simple to just push her up and off of himself, if the hoof resting on his lap for support wasn't...
"Just, uh... be careful where you put your hooves." Ronnie carefully warns, lifting his hands away from her tender form.

"Hm? What do you --"
As she shifts about to turn over from her back, her foreleg brushes against his member -- who'd quietly rose to attention through their prior interactions from moments earlier. With Ronnie just in his wet underwear, there was very little left to the imagination, straining against the cloth.

There's a silence that settles between them as their gazes both settle on Ronnie Jr.

Ronnie purses his lips, glancing away.

"...B-buck...." Zharris mumbles, staring.

"Did you just swear?" Ronnie asks, completely surprised. Not that swearing itself is surprising -- but he didn't expect that reaction, or that choice of word. Is that how they say fuck?

"N-no, I..." Zharris starts to speak, trying to clear her throat and sit properly, trying to wriggle in place to help herself up. Considering her position, almost on her lap, a rear-end focused attempt that utilized back-and-forth wiggling really wasn't helping.

"J-just hang on a second--" Ronnie tries to object, gritting his teeth, weathering the rump-storm.

"Hold on, I'm almost up..." Zharris mutters.

"Zharris, just wait, you're--"

"Give me a moment, I think I--"

"There you two are!" A sudden, familiar voice startles the pair from behind.

Zharris nearly launches straight up and out of the pool, her fur standing on end.
"M-Mister Banks?!" She retorts quickly, startled. Zharris quickly scrambles to pull her hooves over herself, sliding off of Ronnie and sinking into the water up to her nose. She's a bright tone of blushing pink, clearly embarrassed -- about what, though? Half the ponies already walk around naked, if not more. Maybe the situation itself? Ronnie isn't sure.

"Miss Zharis! And Mister Harrelson!" Mister Banks quaintly announces, a blush of his own that foretells of the consumption of liquor sat firmly his snout, glowing with his wide, almost doofy grin. He slowly approaches with a meandering step, stopping to wave a hoof about as he speaks.

Ronnie slowly turns around in the water, resting his arms against the pools edge, free-floating in the shallow end as he politely hides the rest of himself. He also takes a moment to nudge over a moment, using one of his arms to try and cover some of Zharris -- something she seems appreciative of, ducking behind Ronnie a little more.

"I'd been wondering where the pair of you slipped off to, when I found your table of choice empty. Quite the choice location you two picked, I must say. My wife's design, actually! I've always been immeasurably fond of this little garden plot that she spruced the place up with. Nestled right against the water, really adds to the open air." Mister Banks continues, stopping at the water's edge.

"It's quite a nice spot, Mister Banks. Sorry for slipping in without checking first." Ronnie tries to remain polite, but Mister Banks is having none of it.

"Psh! Please, use it to your hearts content. Celestia knows I hardly have the time for it myself. Just... try not to make a mess, will you?" He grins, raising and lowering a brow repeatedly.

"Worry not, Mister Banks, we were doing no such thing." Zharris quickly cuts in, clearing her throat. She's still almost entirely hidden in the water -- it's kind of funny to see her so embarrassed after looking so calm and collected the entire time.

"Oh, I know, Miss Zharris, worry not. In fact, I came to warn you, if I was able to find you. Which I was! Lucky tidings." Mister Banks objects, raising his head proudly.

Zharris rises out of the water slowly, confused.

"The other guests have... settled for the night, as I'm sure you're familiar with. Even with a few... pairings, I just wanted to let you know it seems we've only a single guest room left unoccupied. More showed up than I was expecting, and the Humans take up more space than I had expected. They don't fit in our beds -- imagine that!" He snorts, amused.

"...Ah. Thank you, Mister Banks, for the warning." Zharris notes, significantly less so.

"Well, I'll leave you two to... whatever it is that you're not doing." Mister Banks says slyly, backing away. Judging by the look on Zharris' face, he's probably just teasing her.

The moment he's gone, Zharris exhales loudly, bubbles rising from the water around her mouth. Ronnie can't help but smile, amused by the entire situation.

After a moment, just enough of Zharris rises to speak.
"Well, I can hardly demand you find yourself a place to stay in the city at this hour. Suppose I'll be getting a hotel, then." She claims. Unfortunately for her, Ronnie had other plans.

"Nah, I'll sleep in the truck, don't worry about it. They've got comfy chairs." Ronnie deflects, nudging Zharris' shoulder as he starts to climb out of the pool.

Not exactly true, but at this point, Ronnie felt obligated to try and make Zharris' night a little less stressful.

"Absolutely not, Ronnie." Zharris suddenly cuts in, climbing out right beside him to maintain a firm glare.

"...Then what do you have in mind... Zharris?" Ronnie follows up, pausing partway through his climb to smile at her.

Her gaze softens after she meets his gaze, disarmed -- until she realizes.
"Hm? Oh, did I -- ah. I did. Sorry, Mister Harrelson, I'm a little..."

"Ronnie is fine, if Zharris is fine." Ronnie offers, instead, turning to plant his rear on the pool edge, legs still in the water.

She slowly sighs, nodding and climbing up beside him, doing the same.
"Zharris is fine. I apologize, this has just been... a lot."

"Yeah. I don't normally spring for these kind of things. More of a... stay at home kind of guy. Usually leave it to my cat, Jiggles, to keep me company."

"Ha. Jiggles?" Zharris snorts, giving him a coy look.

"Used to be super overweight, but the name stuck even after we got him on a diet."

"I... I hope you do not tell anypony, but I am partial to a particular brand of pet myself. Beetles, actually."

"Beetles? Bugs? Didn't expect that from you. They're pretty cool though."

Zharris almost seems surprised by his answer, looking up at him.
"You think so?"

"I only know... Rhinoceros Beetles, where they have the big horn on their head, really, but they seem cool. Maybe not for someone looking for cuddles, but I can see the appeal." Ronnie shrugs. Not really for him, but they're interesting enough.

But apparently, very much for Zharris. She practically lights up, leaning against his arm as she suddenly grows extremely excitable.
"Oh, I disagree! Bugtholomew and Bugjamin are quite socialized, and enjoy sitting on my shoulders while I work." She says proudly, holding a hoof to her chest.

There's a small silence, the two staring at each other. Ronnie is pursing his lips, a glow of embarrassment appearing on Zharris' face.

"Bugtholomew..." Ronnie slowly spells out.

Zharris is hiding behind her hooves, looking at the ground.

"...And..." Ronnie snrrks.

"Don't." She mutters quietly, muffled.

"Bugjamin?" Ronnie manages, on the verge of laughing, resisting to remain polite.
"That's... frankly adorable, Zharris. I take it you're quite fond of insects, then?"

Zharris drags her hooves down her face, blinking slowly.
"...Yes, I am. Promise not to hold it above me?"

Ronnie makes a zipper motion across his lips.
"Secret is safe. Cute names, honestly."

"I'm... glad you think so." Zharris relents, slumping against his arm.

The two sit quietly, watching the water ripple from their legs, the courtyard continuing to darken. There's the sound of distant hooves, as one of staff ponies politely cross the hall behind them, lighting some of the sconces for the evening.

"Jiggles." She snorts.

"He's a good guy. I just have to be wary about leaving my lunch out. He might be half the size now, but his stomach isn't." Ronnie jokes.

"Ha." Zharris shivers, huffing to herself.

"Getting cold?"

"A little. Probably should have grabbed towels, in retrospect, but I hadn't expected to stay for so long. We should... probably head inside now. Figure our sleeping situation."

"That back-right seat in the truck has my name written all over it." Ronnie 'hups', splashing as he pulls his legs from the water, walking towards their folded clothes.

Zharris rises up after him, fur still wet as offense invites itself to her expression.
"I told you already, Ronnie, absolutely not."

"There's one room left, Zharris." Ronnie points out.

Before Zharris can object, she's suddenly buried under the cloth-bound offensive of Ronnie's shirt. He's leant down, and is now toweling her dry with his own clothes, not terribly unlike how one might dry a wet dog. It's a surprisingly overwhelming sensation, his hands both rough, but careful as he dries her off.

"Not gonna touch your hair -- I know better than that -- but I figure you'd prefer to not be walking around soaked."

Once she finally emerges, she glares at him.
"... Well, now you can't wear your shirt. It's soaked."

"I'm alright, Human's dry off pretty easily. And as far as I'm aware, you hardly find my bare chest offensive."

Zharris frowns slightly, but can't seem to find any room for a rebuttal.
"Well, we can't have you walking around Canterlot half dressed... just, follow me, if you're going to be so stubborn. I'm not letting you sleep in that vehicle or whatever have you. We'll figure something out."

"You sure, Zharris? I don't -- hang on a second, these are... hrm..."
Ronnie's confident grin soon fades as Zharris watches him struggle with wet pants, until he eventually gives up, and just hopes he doesn't run into anybody he knows. It's a good getback that leaves her the grinning one.

Though not for very long.