An Affluent Zebra

A sturdy, if cautious knocking at their room door is what awakens the floor-bound pair, startling them from their awkward slumber. No voice follows it, though the distant thuds on further-down dorrs that follow in a moment reveal the intentions of a mansion-wide wakeup call. Ronnie and Zharris slowly pry themselves out of each-others grasp between apologies, until they're free of their messy binds, both of limbs and blankets.

Somehow, he made it through the night. It took willpower Ronnie didn't know he had. Zharris trying to fall asleep was... something, though she eventually passed out after what felt like an eternity went by, leaving Ronnie to try and fall asleep himself. It wasn't easy, with how she kept working him up all night with all of her movements and returned clinging, but sound sleep and balls of blue eventually found him.

Seems she enjoyed the nights attention at the very least, the way Zharris kept smiling at him from under her sideswept mane every time she thought Ronnie wasn't looking. That might have helped her ignore their less than ideal sleeping situation, but it didn't seem like she was terribly bothered. She was pretty spry and wide-eyed when she got up, too, if a little embarrassed that they kept their extremely close proximity throughout the night.

And cuddly. She's been standing a lot closer to him today ever since they got so 'intimate', and she hasn't quite left his side. Her eyes practically refuse to leave his person, even once he got dressed again, always hovering nearby.

Clothes dried alright, too. Re-wearing the same clothes isn't the worst thing he's had to do.

Leaving their room revealed an entire mansion of people and pony alike unified under a single, understandable undertaking. Nursing hangovers of various degrees.

Ronnie is surprised, halfway leaning out the door, watching a few others slowly tread from their rooms, groggy and groaning, only to see the Chief walking up and down the halls checking in on everyone. He's a well-built, large man with the staple moustache that would make any Firefighter buckle at the knee. Despite his size, his voice carries softly, well-spoken with concern.

"Ronnie! Sentient and sapient?" The Chief calls, leaning down to the staff-pony trailing after him with a tray of water bottles on it's back, about to offer him one.

"Uh... yeah, Chief. For the most part." Ronnie nods, glancing back into the room. Zharris is in the middle of post-morning stretches, contorting her body like a cat as she leans into the ground, hiking her rear up. He tries his best to block the door with himself, more for Zharris' comfort than his own.

"We're not going back just yet, so take it easy. Both sides had a few more... 'casualties' than expected, so I've been talking things over with our Portal-Trip supervisor pony, Silver Sterling. We'll probably try and head back this afternoon, once everyone's actually back on their feet with some food in their systems." The Chief explains, passing a bottle to a nearby pony who grabs it with their horn. Not their magic -- the just lean forward and poke the water bottle, walking off with it dangling off his horn, water dripping down their face.
"...If we're lucky." The Chief adds quietly staring after the pony. "Just uh... yeah, you seem to be doing fine. Just keep yourself busy, and don't go too far."

Ronnie offers a quick thumbs up, before ducking back into the room and closing the door. The moment it clicks, Zharris' ears flick and she perks up.

"Well?" The sing-song voice of a freshly awoken Zharris calls to Ronnie, in the midst of twisting up and forward, leaning her back-legs back to stretch them out.

"Looks like we aren't heading back just yet thanks to... a profound, estate-wide case of severe hangover." Ronnie comments, his eyes wandering to the tensing muscles in Zharris' leg.

She seems excited by the news, eyes widening as she quickly whips around, Ronnie glancing away just in time.

"That gives us plenty of time to go for a good breakfast. Though I wonder if..." She mumbles, tapping her chin -- right as the door knocks behind Ronnie, startling him. Unlike the sturdy knock of the surprise wake-up, this one almost had a rhythm to it. One that Zharris seems to recognize, the way her face lights up, squeezing past Ronnie and butting him out of the way.

Ronnie leaves her to it, trying to get the room back to looking at least a fraction of what it looked like before they destroyed it to form a floor fort. The staff were probably used to fixing up rooms already, but no sense Ronnie couldn't help. Mama raise him right, and all that.

...

Most of the staff is speaking in whispers and hushed tones, likely a standard in the mornings following these kind of events. When prompted, Zharris confirms they usually try to keep things quiet following one of Mister Banks events. Fair enough, considering how many they pass that are still holding their heads, wincing at any loud noise or the light that's cracking through the pulled curtains.

Ronnie had expected to need to worry about leaving the room with Zharris, fearing workplace judgement, pointed hooves and pointed fingers... nope. He wasn't the only one, though he might have been the only one not to actually have gotten up to anything. Seems the other guys were popular, though their roommates shared far different intentions than his did. More than one walk of shame was witnessed on their way out of the mansion, both him and Zharris recognizing a few of them, giggling to each-other as they point them out to one another.

...

"Wonder if the reason we have to wait, is because nobodies sober enough to drive that thing back." Ronnie comments to Zharris while leaning down, chuckling to himself as the pair make their way down the long, winding downhill estate path that heads back to the sturdy gates. The lush gardens that surround them are being maintained by the morning crew of staff, trimming hedges and watering flowers, all sparkling in the early-morning light that splashes across every veritable inch of the landscape. Seems Mister Banks mansion was in prime position for the best morning light, leading to a healthy garden that demanded attention and dedication.

The fire truck sits alone on the grass between a few flower patches not too far from the entrance to the grounds, busy sticking out like a sore thumb, a bright burst of industrial red among the various greens of the surrounding greenery. Not to mention the piles of spilled glasses and snacks around it, the unspoiled hose, half the equipment taken off the racks... likely the source of a lot of entertainment the previous evening. There's a staff pony slowly picking through them, organizing broken and unbroken, and setting the tools aside into a pile.

Ronnie wonders how much these guys get paid to put up with this kind of thing.

"...Would you not be able to drive it?" Zharris muses, glancing up at him.

Ronnie puts his fingers to his lips, playfully shushing her.
"They find that out, you won't have a breakfast buddy. Might make me drive everyone back."

"Consider my lips sealed, then." She 'oops', and grins.

"By the way... cute dress." Ronnie comments, taking a moment to re-look over Zharris. While Ronnie had donned his dress uniform once again, including the same no-longer-soggy underwear-used-as-a-swimsuit and a few less buttons done up, Zharris was wearing an entirely different outfit. Someone came to the door, who she seemed quite familiar with, and got a bundle of clothes from them. Ronnie had been busy getting dressed, but this unseen individual sounded surprised when they heard why Zharris wouldn't open the door any wider. Compared to the flashy, eye-catching dress that encapsulated his focus on their first meeting, this one was far simpler, though no less well crafted. Cloth, with slits near the the edge of the thighs, and careful embroideries that run along the edges. Neither did she have her eye-matching eyeliner, though going without makeup hardly helped her blend in with the others, and the dress made up for it by being a very near, similar shade of amethyst as her irises. Stripes simply stood out too much -- though Ronnie wasn't complaining. Most of them followed her natural curves, giving him a new stripe to follow for appeasement of his eyes every time he looked at her. She's even got these bangles that jostle softly on her front hooves, adding a light rhythm to each of her steps. Going unnoticed was simply not a term in Zharris' dictionary.
"I thought you didn't have any more clothes?" Ronnie adds, once his eyes have finished looking her over. Several times.

"Cute? Hm. Not a look i typically go for, but... thank you. The issue was your lack of clothes, Ronnie. I actually packed for this event. I had a hotel room and everything, though I felt like strutting your soggy rear end through Canterlot's streets during the night would cause a few too many issues."

"Fair enough." Ronnie shrugs. Probably for the best, and taking one back to one's hotel room certainly spoke differently than occupying a guest room together. Kind of. Ronnie wasn't going to spend too much time thinking on it.
"I don't think the Chief expected us to stay overnight. But I also don't think he expected Mister Banks to wheel out that much booze."

"...I am glad you did. Now come along, it's this way. I think you'll quite like their selection." Zharris nods, as one of the staff waiting at the gate opens the way for them, allowing them through and into the city proper.

It's like a whiplash back into medieval times, or to one of those ren-fairs that Ronnie always debated on visiting. Homes that look like they were plucked out of Europe five hundred years ago, stone and brick roads that sweep the paths towards a penultimate, massive castle that overlooks it all. The castle was the only thing that didn't look like something from his own peoples histories, which made nothing but sense if it truly hosted a pair of rulers that could change the time of day. Part of him felt like he should say thanks for the morning?

Weird feeling.

Zharris seems to know where she's going, leading him from the more affluent district of Mister Banks and his fellow upper-brow nobles, towards the main streets of the early morning bustle. Unlike the nobles, the more familiar sight of naked, or ever so lightly dressed Ponies became the common sight. Few, at the most, wore a hat, or a brooch, or a simple accessory. For the most part, they were bare to the world without a care, passing in conversation or on their way to work.

Speaking of clothes...

"Who was that, at the door this morning?" Ronnie leans down to ask, trying to ignore the curious eyes of those passing by him. With Canterlot being the hub for the portal, humans were a bit of a novelty to ogle at, apparently.

"Ah, that would be my assistant, Zabra. He's got family in Canterlot, so he usually comes with me to assist. He had the foresight to bring me a change of clothes while checking on me, since I never usually stay at Mister Banks estate." She admits, though she sounds bashful about the last part.

Zabra. Like Zebra. Well, Ronnie's not gonna knock the guy for the originality of his name.
"So that's why you were clammy about the door." Ronnie notes, raising a brow.
"Didn't want your assistant thinking you were..."

Zharris bites her lip in thought, chewing on it.
"...He was surprised to hear I kept company, to say the least. Then he was confused when I said nothing had happened."

"Will I get to meet this Zabra?" Ronnie asks, brow raised.

"Perhaps, though try to keep your excitement on your date, would you?" She tsks playfully, avoiding the question.

"From dinner, to breakfast, to a breakfast date... I'm just getting all the upgrades, aren't I?" Ronnie teases in turn, watching the blush grow on Zharris' snout.

"Tends to happen when I spend the entire night in your embrace, getting pet, I'm afraid. I go and get attached. Consequences and such of your actions. I wasn't kidding when I said I was going to keep one of you." She says, smiling up at Ronnie with a coy grin, before a more concerned look takes her face, gaze floating to his leg.
"By the way, I meant to ask. How fares your injury? I hope our... little varied abundance of activities didn't irritate it."

"Doing pretty good, actually. Just kind of a dull throb now and then. Think you're a little too soft to cause it any real irritation." Ronnie shrugs. Bearable, and on the path to healing.

"Ah, good. I was worried I'd rubbed up against it or the like in the night, or such." Zharris exhales.

"No, that wasn't the part you were rubbing against." Ronnie coughs, watching Zharris' face slowly turn red as she processes his words.

"...Ah. Apologies." She says quietly, glancing away.

"All good." Is all Ronnie can manage, making an exaggerated shrug.
"Just kind of what happens when you share a bed -- or a floor -- with a pretty mare, you know?"

"So you say." Zharris shakes her head, though Ronnie still spots the small smile she's trying to hide.

As they keep walking, Zharris slowly directs them towards the upper edge of the city. While the noble district was located on higher ground, as they head further outward, they never go lower. In fact, they climb a few ramps and sets of stairs as they get closer to the walls that overhang the mountain the city was built into, passing a fair amount of homes and businesses until their destination comes into view.

True to what she said, this cafe, marketed with the dangling breakfast sign hanging off it's wall, was placed on the very edge of the wall, all of its tables and chairs sectioned away in a wooden, covered patio lining the stone that borders over the sheer drop beyond the edge. It's quaint, looking almost like an oversized cottage, made primarily of well-formed wood and simple arches. Surprisingly simple, and yet another contrast to her initial burst of style. There's not even any customers yet, though the sign out front says Open. Here, the wind is noticeable as it whips over the edge of the city, but retains a light, cool feeling to it's breeze. Everything is secured a little more firmly to the ground than normal, with large bolts sticking out of table legs and chairs. The most out of place thing about it was the wooden platform beside the building, overhanging off the wall. It looked almost like a dock, or a pier, but hanging in the air instead of being set in water. For airborne deliveries or something?

"I'm going to make the educated guess that you aren't exactly flush in bits at the moment?" Zharris looks to him, approaching the door.

Ronnie pats himself down -- he's got his wallet in his pocket, but the only thing inside of it is cold American cash and plastic.
"Bits... that's what you guys use for currency, right?"

"Correct." She nods.

"Not a one." Ronnie purses his lips, hands in the air.

"Suppose that makes breakfast my treat, then." Zharris hums. She seems almost smug about that fact, like she was getting him back for last night. She pushes through the front door, a small bell jingling above as Ronnie ducks through the doorframe.

The inside is about as cottage-core cute as the outside, being worked by an excitable young... bird woman? Who seems to recognize Zharris, greeting her. Shes shaped like a pony, but looks more like something out of a fantasy book. Feathers and a beak, yet she talks just fine without having lips, the two making amiable small-talk before she gestures to Ronnie.

"Never seen you actually bring someone around here, before. Change your mind and drop your prudish ways?" The bird-pony-woman thing giggles, holding a claw to her beak. They move like fingers, almost.

"As if. I'll have you know, Arris, this fine gentlecolt and I have agreed to a Breakfast, actually." Zharris corrects matter-of-factly, upturning her nose.

"...You two got up to something, didn't you? Never seen your snout glowing so bright, Zharris." 'Arris' teases, leaning on the counter.

"No comment. Make with the menus." Zharris says with some snip, refusing to make eye contact. The entire interaction feels playful, like two old friends meeting up after time apart.

"Yeah, yeah. Here, you'll like what we had come in just yesterday. Check the Specials." Arris says, rummaging below the counter before sliding a pair of menus forward. Zharris grabs them up in her teeth, turning and heading past Ronnie for the door. Her tail softly whips his leg, urging him to follow.

Arris gives him a little wave from the counter, clawed fingers wriggling as she somehow smiles with a beak.

Ronnie, ever the polite gentleman, offers a quick wave before following after Zharris.

By the time he gets back outside, nearly hitting his head on the doorframe, he finds Zharris is already sat at a table, securing their menus down with straps that were tucked away underneath the tabletop.

There's probably a better way to go about such things, but Ronnie wasn't going to judge his first time around.

Now, this close to the wall, the view is incredible. Ronnie pauses a moment as sheer, untouched plains that wisp far into the distance present themselves to him and his heightened position of viewing.

There's few places on Earth that could match such an untouched view. There's no rural sprawl. Beyond a singular train system that runs it's track through towards the small town he can see in the distance, there's simply natural beauty on presentation as far as the eye can see. A blue sky peppered by fluffy white clouds, all overlooking a sea of shaking grass and trees, forests peppered between swathes of grassland. Mountains in the distance that curve around large lakes, and it all just keeps going. There's so much to see from here, and he's not even at the highest point.

His gaze wanders back to Canterlor, higher, to the Caatle that overlooks the entire city.

The view up there must be incredible.

Pulling himself back to reality, he's about to sit across from Zharris, but she coughs loudly, nodding to the seat beside herself.

Understood.

Ronnie plops himself down beside her, enjoying Zharris' satisfied smile as she scoots closer to him. She's got the menus down, and is tucking her hair behind her ear with a hoof, looking up at him expectantly.

"You seem pretty familiar with that..." Ronnie starts, leaning on the table to glance over the selection while he speaks.

"Griffon. They're from a neighboring Nation, also East of Equestria, but further north of Farasi. Unlike Equestria, we share a land border. I've been coming here to eat after almost every single business meeting and event that Mister Banks hosts, unless it's specifically a dinner. And... I may still visit even afterwards. Their selection here is unlike anything else in Equestria." Zharris explains, almost giddy. She really does love her food, and it's a sentiment Ronnie can share.

"But what's a little cafe got that trumps over any of those fancy places?" Ronnie asks with an incredulous hand wiggle, his eyes finding the answer before his question does.

Eggs? Scrambled, sunny side up, over easy... it looks like what he'd find in a breakfast place back on Earth. Is this some kind of joke?

"I thought Ponies don't eat... meat?" Ronnie asks as he glances beside himself to Zharris, who stares at him expectantly, a wide, proud smile in her face. She's enjoying his mixture of surprise and confusion, almost to a degree of smugness, if she wasn't practically nuzzling up against his arm.

"Most Equestrians are strict herbivores. It's a culture thing. But as a species, most Ponies and their Sister species are Opportunistic Carnivores, though this is... heavily dissuaded against in Harmonic teachings." She seems outright excited to explain.
"Saddle Arabia and Farasi are a few of the Nations that participate in a more balanced diet. We might not enjoy direct meats or the process of hunting like the Griffons and their dubious pork-market, or the Seaponies and their ever-discussed preference for fish, Farasian's are not above enjoying eggs with their breakfast, or other smaller sources of protein." Zharris explains, before tapping the menu with a hoof.
"As I've heard, Humans are... omnivorous, rather than opportunistic, correct?"

"Yeah, we eat both. I'm surprised that something like this is allowed here. It... is allowed here, right?" Ronnie asks in a hushed tone, hunching down, wondering if he got whisked into the black-market under-but-actually-above-ground meat-markets of Equestria.

"Remember that Equestria boasts equality and cooperation. It can't claim such without actually allowing those individuals, or pockets of individuals, to express their own cultures or participate in the diets they require. It might not be the most popular topic to discuss in front of the more squeamish of the Equestrians, but you can find such places like this speckled around the larger cities. Rural places like Ponyville, perhaps not, but most of the large population junctions always hold pockets of culture. This place serves the local Griffon population with imports from it's homeland."

"...Where do they get the eggs?"

"Would you like me to say it aloud, or shall it go unsaid?"

"Hm." Ronnie hums, face scrunching. "They're okay with that?"

"Differences between a fertilized and unfertilized egg, I suppose. No sense in wasting something both tasty and good for you." Zharris shrugs. "Farasian meals tend to lean more on -- actually. I'm not going to tell you." She suddenly decides, turning her attention to her menu.

Ronnie frowns.
"Why?"

"Because."

"Because...?"

"You'll find out." She claims, smiling at him.

She's been getting more playful as the morning has gone on. There's something adorable about her acting like this. Or maybe she, herself, is just cute.

The Griffon, Ariss, from earlier emerges from the shop to take their orders. It doesn't take long before Ariss is ribbing Zharris about her choice in 'Stallions', and keeps throwing teasing eyes at Ronnie.

They make their orders, enjoying the quiet moment at the walls edge.

...

"I wanted to say... thank you, for what happened last night." Zharris suddenly prompts in the midst of her meal.

"Mmph?" Ronnie glances up, half his meal dangling from his mouth. Zharris snorts loudly, ducking away and covering her face with a hoof, taking a moment.

After a short pause, she continues her thought.
"I'm normally not very comfortable at Mister Banks... parties. He's a kind host, but they're simply not my kind of thing, if you couldn't tell. In truth, I did just want that cupcake, but the evening turned out..." She trails off, the tip of her hoof circling the rim of her coffee.
"... I'm glad I've found what seems to be a kindred spirit, even if such events bordered on unusual, and... strangely sensual. I'm still trying to process how I... feel about everything, but I hope I'm not overstepping when I say, I believe there is an... interest between the two of us?" She admits, looking to him expectantly.

Ronnie finishes chewing, awkwardly setting his food back down and wiping his face.
"Honestly? Last night was fun, as strange as it was. I'm not entirely sure of the logistics behind it, but... I'd like to see you again."

Zharris perks up, eyes practically sparkling.
"There is a Farasian Ball occurring next month, hosted by one of the local heads of government as part of a fundraiser! Not quite the same... caliber as one of Mister Banks events, I assure you, but I would be delighted to have you join me for it." She quickly offers, both hooves on the table.

"What kind of circles are you in that you're invited to a Ball?" Ronnie leans against the table.
"Fancy international events... you're a somebody, aren't you?"

"Oh, nothing like that. It's a public ordeal." Zharris waves a hoof dismissively, scoffing lightly.
"Anypony can attend. I'd cover your costs, of course. If you... wanted to come."

"Well, that's very sweet, but is that even possible? Equestria is one thing, but getting me to Farasi? There's gotta be some paperwork with that." Ronnie asks, leaning on his hand.

"Oh, I don't doubt that. I'd have to do some outreach... but I believe it to be possible. Equestria is nothing if compromising, especially in recent years. You might be hoisted as a scapegoat for international relations..." She trails off, thinking.

"Could I bring Jiggles?"

"Hm?"

"My cat, Jiggles. A day or two alone is fine, but if I'm traveling internationally on this side of the portal..."

"Ah, yes. Your pet cat. Another hurdle... though I am willing to find a way to make it work, if you are as willing. I'm sure there could be allowances on such."

Ronnie leans against the table -- it's a bit of an awkward angle, and would have been easier if he was sitting across from her, but he carefully takes Zharris' hooves in his hands, thumbs stroking across their tops.

Zharris takes a heavy breath, a warm smile sat on her face, her radiant eyes searching his.
"I'm glad. Then I'll find a way. It may take me some time to make this kind of thing happen, but I'm excited to offer you a chance to see my home."

"And I'm excited to see it, Zharris. You've made it sound quite interesting." Ronnie assures, smiling back.

The two simply hold hand and hoof for a long moment, trying to ignore the way the breeze is messing with their hair, before Zharris finally has to relent and tuck her mane away from her face, the two breaking the hold.

"We probably have some time before everypony is ready to go back..." Zharris says, glancing out towards the denser parts of Canterlot, past Ronnie.

An unsaid, shared desire to spend more of the fleeting moments that they still have, before each much return to their sides of the world. Unique in their stance of even further, conditional distances, only further their wishes to spend more time with the other.

Ronnie softly clears his throat, drawing Zharris' attention back to himself.
"You know, I've never been to Canterlot before this, and it looks like something from one of Earth's history books. Would you mind showing me around?"

A wider smile that crinkles her cheeks, creasing the corners of her eyes makes it's appearance on her face.
"In truth, there's only a few places I've actually been. I've yet to truly just wander the streets."

"Well then, Zharris... care to wander the streets with me, until someone or some-pony is pressed into searching the town for us, where we reluctantly head back?"

"I'd enjoy that, Ronnie." She hums, leaning against his arm, sighing loudly.

"Could even check out the local competition."

"Competition... ha. Although..." Zharris repeats, though her brow furrows, the idea growing on her.

Ronnie puts his arm around the striped mare, pulling her closer against his side as the pair sit together, slowly working through the last of their breakfast.