An Affluent Zebra

by scrungusbungus

Rating: mature
Tags: Profanity, Slice of Life, Sex, Human, Narcotics, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, My Little Pony Comic, Romance, Original Character, Comedy
Length: 45778

An HiE Story about a Firefighter and the foreign Business Partner of a thankful Equestrian Noble. Two individuals who aren't quite keen on parties of a particular caliber find an interest in the other, enjoying the others company for the evening.

[Cover and Art by my lovely wife NynxeNym]
{Full Size Cover Link}
Originally part of my PiE/HiE short stories collection I was working on in October, except I accidentally didn't stop writing so it spiraled into this. I didn't feel like jamming all of this into one October chapter, so it gets it's own post. Shares the same world lore and setting as the October Shorts, where Equus and Earth are connected by portals in Canterlot and America, resulting in interspecies crossings and interactions as the nation's go forward. Ending is a little rushed because this spiraled out of control and was supposed to be a, at max, 5k word story and I had to force myself to stop before I kept going.

Ronnie Harrelson, still recovering from his recent injury that he gained during a dicey rescue amidst a roaring house-fire, has found himself being invited to Equestria -- alongside the rest of his Fire Station. One of the individuals they rescued just so happened to be the eldest daughter, and heir, to a rather well-off Equestrian Noble who was visiting Earth on a visitors visa.

As a show of appreciation, a party has been thrown for her rescuers by her grateful father, the event serving dual purpose as both a thanks for saving his child, and a chance to improve international relations between Humans and Ponies. The event in it's entirety, of which is incredibly elaborate and lavish, is being bankrolled by Mister Banks. The thankful father, and an Equestrian textile industry powerhouse.

Ronnie, while appreciate of the gesture, isn't much of one for parties, though it's not like he can exactly turn down going. He's thankful, but leaves his fellows to enjoy the bulk of the party in his stead, Ronnie choosing to peruse one of the quieter snack tables -- until he's finds the table approached by one of Mister Banks business partners, who seems as out of place as he does and looking for the same out.

He finds she makes for some surprisingly good company, not quite the striped mare she appears to be.

Published 2024-11-08 18:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2024-11-08 18:30:01 UTC

The Party

Canterlot, Equestria | The Estate Of Local Noble 'Fat Banks', Appreciation Party For Station 37

Talk about feeling out of place. Ponies everywhere, all wearing fancy clothes, eating fancy food, being served by well-dressed, high-nosed staff while a private band plays over the entire function. All high-brow, all top-shelf. Oh, and being on an entirely different planet, to boot.

This entire function was just bleeding wealth. Stone busts and statues of ponies or notable historic events, paintings that looked like something plucked out of an earth history-book, if the topic was colorful horses in fancy, medieval getups, banners and streamers, several staff ferrying drinks and food on platters attached to their back. A trio-band of ponies, set up on a stage and equally dressed, slowly plays through some pony version of classical musical, the sounds carrying through the large hall. Gold accents on almost everything, stain glass windows, massive ceilings... felt like something out of a story book the way it all contrasts with the smoothed marble that lines everything else. Everywhere he looked just repeated the fact that this was all way out of his tax bracket. Even in his Dress Uniform he still felt underdressed for the occaision, compared to elaborate and fanciful suits all the attendees were wearing. Then again, makes sense for a society that still uses solid, actual gold for it's currency. And gems. Man, did that throw the human economy for a loop. Didn't really affect his job that much.

Ronnie quietly sips his... well, it's a tasty drink, but he'd need a barrel of the stuff to get anywhere. Something not too far off from champagne. Probably. Not like he would know.

Apparently, Pony brews tend to lack any kick, and are a little on the lighter side. Alcohol was a newer invention, or their livers weren't as trained, or their shorter size or something. He'd check on his phone, but Ponies were still figuring out trade deals on erecting cell-phone towers and the like. No service out here in the Ponylands, no matter how fancy it got.

Not to mention, Ronnie wasn't much of a party guy. Couldn't say the same for his fellows, the way they're bringing a rambunctious fun to the function. He can see a good amount of the other guys soaking up the attention and questions, regaling the other guests with stories about their job. Some of the nobles look weirded out, but others are full-send on the almost frat behavior of his fellow fire-fighters. Danger isn't very common in Canterlot, so he's heard, so stories about fighting fires and the like are lighting up their massive, twinkling eyes with wonder.

Do your job like any other day, put out a fire -- carry a coughing pony out of the building, which turns out to be the heir to a wealthy estate and business, and whose very pony-influential father wants to privately thank your entire firehouse for rescuing their child. At their personal mega-mansion. Through the portal, on their homeland.

Not something Ronnie ever saw coming. He'd heard about them of course, and seen a few while he was out on the job, or on his free time. Think the Marshal was even in discussion about bringing a pony or two onto the team as a diversity hire -- apparently they didn't have as an elaborate Fire Fighting system, since a portion of the population had wings or magic to help deal with any fires.

But going through the portal? That place was somehow both a tourist destination, and locked up tighter than any military fort he'd ever heard of. Built an entire town around that shimmering gate almost overnight, apparently.

It's all very surreal to a rather simple man.

Still, nice of Mister Banks to get them all out here. Great for international relations, too. The newspapers were eating this up.

"A toast!" A proud voice calls out -- their benefactor and host of the party cheers loudly, hovering a glass around with his magic.

Magic. Unicorns. That one sent Humanity reeling even harder than the gold did. They got used to it pretty easily, though. Rampant human consumption of fantasy genre type stuff kind of pre-prepped humanity for levitation and lasers.

"To the saviors of my beautiful daughter -- to Earth's brave fighters of fire!" He announces, waving his drink around. A cheer erupts between the ponies, the other guys grinning as they're lavished with attention. The dress-wearing daughter giggles, bowing to one of the firemen. That's Daniels, all dressed up in a suit, who returns with an exaggerated, fancy bow of his own. It earns a round of applause. Guy was probably eating this whole thing up.

Ronnie wondered why they kept wording fire-fighter so weirdly, though.

Either way, it's a sweet gesture, but also why Ronnie is glad he's on the quiet side of the room, picking his way through one of the buffet tables. Minus a few smaller, focused conversations between individuals, there's not much going on this side of the party, and he's glad for it. It's all a little much for him. He feels kind of bad, more interested in waiting for an experience like this to end than actually trying to deep-dive in and enjoy it, but it's just not his thing. Plus, his leg still hurt. Best to take it easy.

Then again, some greased hands and hooves apparently got one of their firetrucks through with them, so the local ponies could listen to the siren and be all surprised by it. Think it was in the yard, surrounded by creatures that haven't even seen a car before. They're probably doing just fine without his participation.

Ronnie misses his cat, in all honesty. And his leg still hurts. He should find a chair soon. Preferably one his size.

To alleviate said feelings and take the focus off his limb, he lets his hand wander to a near-empty tray of what looks like some kind of shrimp cupcake. Today could be a cheat day, he supposed. Not like he had a choice, the way these ponies inhaled sugar like no other.

Speaking of ponies, he can hear the soft clop of hooves on the elaborate tile floors approaching from behind.

"I've yet to see one so hesitant about such a sought-after confection." A surprisingly haughty voice suddenly speaks up from behind him, hooves clacking softly as someone joins him at the table.
"And here I was to hope I might get the last one. Oh well. A shame formed of my meandering pace."

Ronnie turns, hand pulling back as he looks to the source of the -- Wow.

Was some-pony the right word? Is she a Zebra? They have those, too? Just when he was getting used to seeing ponies and remembering their sub-species, here comes a leg-sweep to what he knows.

Damn if she isn't a sight to behold, though. Unlike the almost Renaissance-Era dresses and suits that their benefactor and his Pony guests were wearing, all decked with frills and big poofy shoulders, she was almost sensually modern. A gold-satin dress that draped over her lower half and tucks against her chest, running along her striped neck, with golden earrings that swayed softly with ever movement. This lady knew gold, and it was just as familiar with her.

Compared to the colorflush splashes and variety of colors every guest brought, the almost simple contrast of white, black and gold makes her stand out among the crowds. No wings, no horn. But definitely eyeliner, a radiant shade of purple chosen to match her eyes -- which closely watch him, despite her aloof entry.

"I haven't quite got a hold of it yet, if you'd still like it." Ronnie responds simply, retreating his hand. "More curious about it than actually hungry for it. I've had too many sweets as it is." He tries, trying to play polite.

"No, no. You got to it first. That's just how it works at these sort of things."
Her words are playful, as her gaze slowly roams over him, working from the bottom until it settles on his face. Any questions of if there's a difference between Zebra and Pony are put aside by the light, almost Afrikaans accent that traces her words, though Ronnie couldn't figure any specific dialect. She speaks clearly, but it trails her words nonetheless. "And here I am, thinking I'm used to being the only odd one out in a room. You must be one of these Heroes that Mr. Banks can't stop himself from raving about."

"Oh, I'm not..." Ronnie tries to wave away such talk, but she rests a painted hoof against her cheek, giving him a coy look as she leans against the table.

"There's no need to be so humble. Mister Banks is hosting this event for you and your fellows, after all. Have you ever been on this side of the portal before?" She assures him, before stepping closer.

"No, this is my first time, actually. It's... very interesting. Very similar to Earth, but just different enough I'm still getting thrown for a loop." Ronnie goes to start, scratching the back of his head. Unable to avoid conversation, he might as well at least be polite about it.

"Shorter doorframes?" She grins.

"...Yeah." Ronnie relents, unaware of the smile finding it's way onto his face.
"That's the worst one, so far."

Everything around here was built for creatures half his size. Good thing the affluent if this world also liked towering ceilings.

Unlike Ronnie, her eyes certainly aren't shy. Either Zebra's don't believe in maintaining eye contact during discussion, or she finds him very interesting to look at. Though Ronnie feels like even the other curious house-guests haven't quite looked him over in this particular fashion. Her eyes are keen on taking their time, and she's not even trying to hide where they roam.

"Still, I'm surprised you're not with your others, enjoying the festivities. The attention. The adoration. It's not often one gets an entire banquet hosted in their honor, and Equestria adores heroism." She muses, looking towards the crowd. They grow rowdier with each passing moment, as they break out more drinks. The Zebra woman rolls her eyes, turning her attention back to him.
"One of those nights, I see. Mister Banks isn't afraid to splurge, and I foresee most of the guest rooms being taken by the nights end."

"He's certainly a generous soul." Ronnie tries to add, skirting around the specifics of her question, but the Zebra woman stifles a laugh.

"Oh, they won't be sleeping." Is all she offers, laughing quietly as his face shows the slow thought-path of figuring what she means.

"Ah. Promiscuous." Ronnie comments quietly, setting his own drink down. Also not really his fashion. Doesn't quite seem to be in her interest either, from her tone.
"You seem very... aware as to how things play out around here. This kind of stuff a common sight?"

"Such is the way of life for the upper-brow of this city. They deeply enjoy their festivities, and certain circles enjoy dipping into... well, I won't speak of it here. I believe Canterlot alone has near triple the amount of Holidays your Earth or my own home has." She explains, though a perceptive eye watches him lower his own drink, a slow grin staying ever-present on her face.

That seems to pique her interest, and she takes a step closer. Is she approaching him because he's not with the rest? Maybe she's not big on partying, either. At least she's fun to talk to.

"As a fellow 'Odd-One-Out', I take it such activities don't interest you?" Ronnie asks, his attention fully turned to her at this point, the sounds of the rest of the celebration fading from his focus, distant.

She laughs softly, letting her heavy-lidded gaze fall to a few of the remaining confections on this nearly-cleared table, only a scarce few platters still holding anything of value beyond crumbs. She doesn't seem interested in much...

Except for the very treat that brought her over here. Wordlessly, Ronnie places the shrimp-cupcake-thing closer to her, glancing away -- though her coy side-eye doesn't let the maneuver go unnoticed.

"How kind. Are you certain?" Her head tilts down as she asks, raising a brow.

"It'd be unfair to deny a pretty lady her treat, when I'm just busy ogling at it. All yours." Ronnie nods. Was it weird to be calling a Zebra a pretty lady? He called his cat a Pretty Princess all the time. It's probably fine.

"The pretty lady, or the confection?" She goads, laughing to herself as she takes a bite.

Ronnie is fascinated as he watches, curious at how their hooves don't play by any rules he knows. Bending and holding things like hands, almost outright defying gravity. Magic creatures.

She carries on without waiting for the answer, instead dialing the conversation back a step.

"As for what you asked, no, I do not. Such... activities are far out of my field of interest, and it wouldn't be proper for a mare of my station." She explains, politely taking another bite of the cupcake. She hums softly as she chews, apparently quite keen on the treat.

"Your station? I mean, you look like the Queen of a neighboring nation, so I assume it's quite a notable one. Foreign model, maybe?" Ronnie comments, letting himself look over her outfit again. It's very... snug, in certain places. Shapely, even. Ronnie's surprised Ponies can even come in that shape.

"Ha. Charmer. I would watch that title around here, if I was you. I've heard Queens get a bad rap, with the Equestrians holding a preference for Princesses. No, I am Mister Banks primary trade partner. Are you aware of his dealings?" She corrects, rummaging the table for a napkin.

"I'm not, unfortunately. Wasn't much time for personal conversation before all this swept along. One moment, I'm just keeping a hose aimed at a fire, the next, I'm at a fancy party in my fanciest duds, because apparently we saved someone's visiting pony-daughter-heir." Ronnie explains, shifting to lean against the table, getting weight off his leg, slowly stretching his foot.

"I see. Well --" She's just about to explain when both of them flinch at a loud, boisterous sound quickly getting closer. Heavy, out of sync hooves.

"Mister Harrelson! To find you away from the festivities -- taking a moment, are you?" Mister Banks announces loudly, before he's even gotten halfway to their table, turning some heads.
"I can understand my festivities might be a little much! I do still hope you're enjoying yourself!"

Mister Banks, much like his party, practically screams affluence from appearance alone, and the image of several bags of money in front of a large building on the side of his leg isn't helping that. Short of stature but round in nature, his eccentric doublet barely fits him, the buttons straining. A fancy little powdered wig sits on his head, his horn sticking out the front of it. Despite his size, he's got quite the set of vocal cords.

"Ronnie is fine, Mister Banks. Just enjoying some lovely company." Ronnie tries to deflect, gesturing to his conversation partner, but Mister Bank's smile only grows, sliding in beside him and leaning on him.

"Ha! This one. He carries my eldest daughter, heir to my estate, out of a burning building -- a chunk of a support beam sticking out of his thigh, and acts like it's no big deal!" Mister Banks laughs, grabbing the closest part of Ronnie to pull him close and shake him around -- which just so happens to be said leg. Ronnie quietly winced, suffering through it.

"Really now?" She raises a brow, giving Ronnie a look. Well, there goes his chance of keeping things on the quieter side. She's about to lean against the table, a grin already forming on her face, before the man -- or pony -- of the hour continues, unabashed, even throwing her off.

"And might I say -- quality choice of conversation, good sir! Lovely company indeed. Miss Zharris here is second to none, for a Zebra. Truly!" He boasts proudly on her behalf, sliding right over to her before either can realize, doing the same to her. Though, being nearly her size, he's moreso shaking the entirety of her.

Ronnie and Zharris share a look at his words. Seems like she's used to that kind of word-choice, if the way she rolls her eyes is anything to go by.

"Ever so kind of you, Mister Banks..." She slowly returns, that smile looking a little faker.

Maybe he can salvage this.

"Oh -- Mister Banks. Have you shown the others the hose on the Fire-Truck?" Ronnie cuts in, leaning down.

"The... oh! I have not! We troubled your department to bring it, and we've simply left it sitting on the grass!" Mister Banks scoffs, slapping his forehead with a hoof, before shaking Ronnie back and forth.
"Thank you for the reminder, Mister Harrelson."

"Ask the Chief to break the hose out. I'm sure you'll all get a kick out of it." Ronnie offers, with Mister Banks seeming smitten at the idea.
"Certainly! Thank you, Mister Harrelson! Enjoy your evening, Miss Zharris -- wherever that may lead you!" He announces, disappearing just as quickly as he came.

He's already in the distance, nudging several of the other fire-fighters and bouncing excitedly. A lot of energy in that guy.

Rubbing his leg, Ronnie's attention is slowly pulled back to his conversation partner as she clears her throat, standing straight and leaning on the table again.

"...Holding a hose, hm?" She spells out slowly, grinning.
"A slight understatement to your participation."

"...For a Zebra?" Ronnie slowly repeats, stifling a laugh of his own. Zharris shakes her head incredulously, before a chuckle finally slips out of her.

"The ponies around here are a touch... I'm trying to find some polite words for it." She sighs, shaking her head.
"He means well, but most ponies don't think much about things beyond their own borders. Or towns. Or daily lives. Historically, they don't have the best track record of playing well with outsiders. Mister Banks is one of the better ones, but still."

"My people have plenty of history around that kind of thing. Fret not, I'm enjoying your company regardless of how many stripes you've brought with you to the function." Ronnie assures, smiling.

"Oh? Even if I left a few of them at home?" She jokes, snorting.

"Always good to keep a few spares." Ronnie returns, the two slowly settling after that burst of activity. The attention has already shifted back towards the main crowd, leaving them to their quiet table once more.
"Actually, aren't you guys supposed to be black with white stripes?"

"Oh, don't go down that road." Zharris scoffs, waving a hoof.
"Our philosphers have been debating that one for generations. I prefer not to touch the topic. I'm ambiguously striped, and that's enough for me."

"You see... where is he... ah, the guy with the dark skin. That's Jacob. He's pretty much a Zebra, if you could call us Ponies. At least, I'm assuming that's the best comparison. Just don't tell him I said that, or he'd probably kick my ass." Ronnie explains, barely stopping himself from cracking a grin as he leans down, pointing back towards the main bulk of the excitement, a few of the firefighters trying to dance with some of the guests. The lack of hands, and height difference, is yielding some amusing results.

She gives him a bemused look, following his pointing.
"Interesting. Don't worry, I think I overheard some of the other guests asking him where his stripes were, so you're not the only one to make that comparison. I don't think he's even seen me, yet, so he's probably just confused."

"There's that few Zebras out here?" Ronnie chuckles. Jacob's probably getting a kick out of that.

"There's as many Zebra in Equestria as I have hooves, I'd guess. Most don't often leave their own nations unless a reason is needed." Zharris surmises, shrugging. Or probably shrugging. That's a surprisingly human move for something that doesn't have the same kind of shoulders.

Their mutual gaze towards the group reveals another tidbit -- Mister Banks daughter, Feticious Banks, dolled up and in the midst of the group. There's a few bandages that peek out from underneath her dress, and a rather obvious one across her face. Despite these, she seems to be in a rather chipper, if bashful mood from the attention.

"Looks like she's recovering well." Ronnie comments, though his conversation partner floats him a coy look.

"You know, she's been looking in your direction most of the party. I believe young Miss Banks has a crush on her gallant hero." Zharris teases, watching his reaction.

Ronnie, however, shakes his head dismissively.
"That's sweet of her, but I'm not... into that kind of thing."

"Ah. The species barrier. An understandable hurdle, especially for a mono-species such as yourself." She nods, understanding... though there's a slight shift in her tone as she speaks.

"I was actually referencing her age." Ronnie quietly corrects.

"Oh?" She huffs, giving him a look.

"She's a fair bit younger than me, and I'm... not really looking for that kind of dynamic." Ronnie admits, scrunching his face.

That seams to pique her interest, tilting her head as she reads him.
"How... old are you, if I may ask? I'm unfamiliar with how humans define their age, though I know we share similar lifespans."

"Ah, I'm thirty-two." Ronnie easily offers.
"I assume there's still a taboo about asking a woman her age, even over here?"

"So you do know your manners." She chides, grinning.
"Yes, a Mare tends to keep her age a little close to her barrel."

"Barrel?" Ronnie asks, confused.

"Ah. Her chest, I believe is the correlation." Zharris adds, placing a hoof to her own, right where the dress swoops into its straps.
"Though, it's nice to know we aren't too far off from one another..." She says quietly, mostly to herself.

Ronnie surprises himself with how he has to force himself to look away. That's a new one.

"Well, with the playful mysteries of our identities ever so softly trampled... as Mister Banks said, I'm Zharris. Owner of Stof Fabrics, based in Farasi." She raises a hoof to him, for a... hoofshake?

"Zair-ise?" Ronnie repeats -- she pronounces her name differently than Mister Banks did.

"Zharr-Iss." She clarifies, though doesn't seem bothered by it.

He can feel... her hoof grip his hand? It's a very odd sensation, like there's some outside force, rather than the hoof itself moving. She's amused at the face he makes, watching him stare at her hoof curiously.

"Ronnie Harrelson. Firefighter. United... States? Or would I say Earth?" He finally offers, though he's unsure. He wasn't up to date on interplanetary geography.

She seems as weirded out by his fingers as he did by her hoof, pausing mid-shake to look at his wiggly little appendages.

"That's America, correct?" Zharris asks after a pause.

"Sure is. The U S of A."

"That would be correct, then. Earth would be the equivalent to Equus, and America to Equestria, or Farasi. Nations, to planets." Zharris explains, but still continues -- it seems a topic of interest for her.
"United States, America, U S... of A. I'm still learning about your kinds world. A difficult task, since Equestria holds a monopoly on most Alien information, and whatever is available tends to get eaten up by the locals."

"Right, you guys don't have Internet." Ronnie comments. Ha, he's an Alien. Funny thought. Doesn't surprise him information is a premium in this world, considering most of it has to be passed around from books and parchment, physically. Letters. Crazy, considering their other levels of technology and species ability.

"The internet? I'm not familiar with that one." Zharris tilts her head.

"That... might take a while to explain." Ronnie winced. It's a loaded topic.

"Do you have anywhere to be?" Zharris asks, smiling.

Ronnie glances back to the crowd. A few of the Unicorn guests are trying to levitate one of the Firefighters, to varying degrees of success.

Then he looks back to Zharris, looking up at him. Her head is tilted to the side, and she brushes a hoof through her side-swept hair, watching him with a soft smile.

"...You know, I think I've got nothing but time."

Poolside Participation

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.

What Comes After Evening

The pair of outliers silently walk the long, elaborate halls, which maintain their poshly decorated interiors even unto the quiet guest quarters. Ronnie had expected her hooves to be louder on the tile, but she walks with a surprisingly soft step compared to his dress shoes, as if she doesn't wish to be heard.

Well, the hall itself may normally be quiet, but they're trying to ignore the less-than-silent, occupied rooms they pass, with wet clothes underarm. Eye contact is a little difficult at the moment, both staring forward.True to what Mister Banks forewarned, each shut door they walk by offers it's own audible, promiscuous tidbits. Muffled moans and giggles, even the creaking of beds can be subtly heard, helping keep a firm blush on Zharris' face as she avoids looking at Ronnie.

"How often does this sort of thing...?" Ronnie leans down, asking quietly.

"Every time." Zharris responds bluntly, hardly masking the groan that follows it.
"I'm usually in bed by this point."

"Not your kind of late-night activity?" Ronnie chides, enjoying the side-eye she flicks his way.

"...It's a lifestyle I'm not terrible partial to, but must reside uncomfortabley near due to the nature of my business. The upper echelon of Canterlot enjoy... alternative tastes. I'll survive."
It's a simple answer, preloaded by a long pause, betraying the calm tone of her voice. She's not comfortable with this kind of thing, clearly.

"Farasians don't do this kind of thing?" Ronnie asks, surprised.

"We do not have a system of nobility, tied to blood or wealth. We have elected officials, whose benefits come at the cost of responsibility." Zharris informs, glad for the distraction.
"What of Humans?"

"Our rich... do weird things, yeah. Judging by some of the sounds, I don't think you're the only one bunking with a human for the evening." Ronnie notes, swearing he recognizes one of the voices as they pass.
"I'm with you on this, though. Like I said, I'd rather get dinner sometime. I like to get to know who I'm cajoling with."

"As would I. I would still enjoy a meal after this, if you're willing. I doubt your station will be ready to leave by the morning, considering the size of the barrels I saw Mister Banks get pulled from his stores earlier... though why wait for the evening? Perhaps breakfast, or even lunch?" Zharris comments, finally managing to glance up at him as the conversation shifts.

"Absolutely." Ronnie smiles back. "Whichever we end up going for sounds fine by me, though getting breakfast in town sounds enjoyable. I doubt the other guests are going to be good company in the morning."

"You make a good point. I believe I know a nice, quaint Cafe that sits on the edge of the city, with a nice view of the surrounding plains."
A small smile finally breaks it's way onto Zharris' face as she looks forward again, walking closer to Ronnie as they continue to try and ignore their surroundings.

Zharris looks outright relieved when she finds the door she's looking for, muttering in relief under her breath, her pace doubling as she quickly enters. Ronnie barely gets through before she shuts it firmly behind them both, locking it tight. A large sigh escapes her, leaning against the closest wall.

It's a sizable room, just as fancy as the rest of the mansion. Well-carved wood furniture rounds out the place, offering a desk, a chair, dressers, and easily one of the most out of date, medieval-looking beds Ronnie has ever seen, straight out of some fantasy movie. Curtains drape from it, and it has more pillows organized about it than an entire neighborhoods worth. A thick, comfy carpet offers a pleasant underfoot feeling.

Ronnie carefully sets the rest of her dress down on the top of the closest dresser, before draping his wet clothes across the chair, hopefully to dry by the morning.

It doesn't take long for Zharris to join his side, lightly prodding at his leg for his attention. The good leg, thankfully. She's been especially cautious around his injury, something he's appreciative of.

"Would you help me out of my bathing suit? I could reach the zipper, but..." Her snout points to it. It's place a little awkwardly on her back, off-center. Probably so she can reach it with her mouth, but even still, doesn't look terribly comfortable to reach.

Ronnie leans down, placing a hand against her side as he tugs the zipper down. It takes a few tugs, but Ronnie tries to be careful around her fur.
"Zipper with fur is a... bold choice." He comments, raising a brow.

"I was in a rush to finish the outfit for the event, and hadn't quite figured a strap or button system for non-Abada's, or Unicorns, that didn't interfere with the dress part. Not my first choice, but..." Zharris trails off, trying her best to watch him, though she has to stop partway through, mumbling about a sore neck.
"Admittedly, I may have not thought ahead to this part, though I am glad to have your assistance."

"It's very well made, either way. It looks like something I'd see back on Earth -- you're very skilled, Zharris." Ronnie compliments -- better to say skilled than talented, even if she's a mix of both. It's clear she works hard on her projects, the way his words get one of Zharris' ears flicking.

"Thank you." She says warmly, shaking her herself loose as the zipper reaches her rear. She's especially wriggly around the rump, the bathing suit getting stuck on her back legs for... obvious, shapely reasons. An embarrassed glance-back from Zharris relays a request for assistance. As respectfully as he can, Ronnie tries to help tug and slip the suit off of the zebra, to varying degrees of success.

Through this, Ronnie discovers that Zharris has some surprisingly meaty thighs, giving a fair bit of squish under the pressure of his fingers. It's a comment he keeps to himself, as the suit finally slips off her and piles on the floor.

Zharris exhales loudly as she's freed, shaking her leg.
"Uh. Just a bit too tight. I need to re-measure myself..."

Somehow, it's less sensual seeing her 'naked' then when she was wearing her clothes. Funny thing, that.

"One too many of those sweet Canterlot treats?" Ronnie guesses, grinning as he steps back.

She gives him a look over her shoulder. It's playful, thankfully.
"... It's my cheat day. Don't give me grief me over it." She huffs, turning and grabbing her suit with her teeth, carrying it over to the chair, to find a spot to drape it over and dry, that isn't taken up by Ronnie's clothes.

"No complaints here." Ronnie raises his hands in surrender, turning away.

Now that he sees her beside it, the size of the furniture really comes back to him. It's all... small. Half-sized. Even the big, ye-olde bed doesn't seem that large compared to him. Not to mention, there's still an article of clothing of his that needs to be off and dried.

"So... Ponies and Zebra's and stuff are comfortable with nudity, right?" He asks vaugely, crossing his arms as he tries to think. He's kinda gotta get these off, but...

"Our natural state? We only wear outfits for status and events and such. A vast majority of Ponies, Zebra, and so on wear little more than an accessory or a hat, at the most. If you can't tell." She notes, glancing down at herself.

There's a small pause as she slowly looks back up. Her gaze, notably, pauses at the still-wet but now no-longer tenting unders that serve as Ronnie's only form of decency, no matter how badly they perform in that factor.

Which, under her newfound attention, slowly begins to resume it's previous state of 'tented'.

"I... see why you're asking." Zharris clears her throat. She's doing her best to be polite about it, but no matter what way she looks, her eyes don't follow.

"Would it make you uncomfortable?" He tries to ask, but Zharris' lips purse.
"I know it's basically eye level for you, but--"

"Ronnie, it's not hidden. At all. Just take them off before you catch a cold. I won't look." Zharris deflects, shaking her head.

"...Do you want me to wait until you stop looking, or...?"

"Sorry." Zharris shoves a hoof over her eyes, turning around.

"I mean, I don't mind the attention..." Ronnie mumbles, taking a moment to work them off. They, too, join the drying pile on the chair. He's still a little damp, but if he's lucky, his clothes won't be soaked in the morning.

Only problem now, is that he's alone with a pretty mare, in a small room, naked. Not really how he expected this evening to end. The day was full of surprises.

"Okay, now... clearly we can't have you walk around like that."

"Bit of a difference between our species staying in the buff?"

"Yours seems to let it stick out a little more than a stallions. Just, uh..." Zharris mutters, trying to think. And trying not to look.

"Just gimme one of the blankets and the pillow, I'll make do on the floor." Ronnie tries to offer -- no dice. Zharris looks almost offended by the idea.

"Enough with trying to sacrifice your sleep to make this less awkward. Just... get in the bed, Ronnie, and use the blanket to hide it." She finally nips his polite attempts in the bud, pointing at the awaiting mattress without looking.

"I'm not letting you take the floor, Zharris." Ronnie goes to object, finding Zharris in a moment of thought. She raises her head, resolute, if a little nervous.

"I won't be. Because I'll be joining you." She states firmly.

Ronnie blinks.

"Both of our species are quite socialized, and we... have an understanding of the others physical boundaries. I believe... sharing the bed for the evening would suffice. It seems large enough. Mostly."
She seems nervous as she asks, constantly side-eye glancing at him even as she tries to remain facing away. One of her hooves is idly tapping the floor, quiet only because of the carpet underneath.

She seems almost antsy awaiting any response from Ronnie, chewing her lip.

"Cuddle buddies?" Ronnie leers, stepping towards the bed.

"I-if you have to put such a term to it. Just leave me enough room, and we should be fine. We can put a pillow, or several between us if needed."

There's a quiet creaking as Ronnie climbs onto the bed, trying to get comfortable. Zharris is doing her best not to look, remaining resolute in her stoicism.

"Uh... small problem." Ronnie calls out.

"Is it covered?"

"Huh? Uh... yeah. Hold on."

More quiet shuffling.

"...Alright, that's about as hidden as he's getting."

"What is the... issue." Zharris finally turns, taking in the situation.

Ronnie takes up the entire bed. He's awkwardly twisted to the side, one leg tucked up to cover himself, even under the blankets, in an attempt to make some room for Zharris. Which, there is -- directly beside him, in a small pocket. They'd basically be cuddling the entire night.

"...Cuddle buddies was an apt description." Zharris groans, hoof to her face.

"If it's an issue, I can still --"

"Nope. Zip." Zharris makes a zipping motion across her lips. Undaunted, she leaps up onto the edge of the bed, joining him on the mattress. She's careful to step around his legs, lowering herself to fill what little space is left for her.

There's really not much room.

"Can you try to lay the other way?" She offers, face scrunched as she tries to find a balance between hanging off the edge of the bed, and being pressed up against him.

"Sure, let me..." Ronnie mumbles, trying to twist around.

"Careful."

"Trying to be. This blanket is heavy..."

"You're dropping pillows on me."

"Theres too many, anyway. Put some on the floor."

"I did. How many are there?!"

"Almost..."

"Wha-stop pushing me!"

"I'm not!"

"Your -- your rear! It's pushing me off!"

"If I try to lay like --"

"Alright, enough."

"I've almost..."

"Ronnie. Enough!"

"Huh?" He pauses, looking behind himself.

"Turn back over. We'll just stay close. I'd rather not wake up with a sore neck on the floor."

"You sure? I appreciate you rank me above the floor, at least."

"Yes. Just do it."

"Alright, just watch out, because..."

"..."

"...Alright, there we go. Easier that time."

"...Ronnie, what's poking my leg?"

"Ah, shit. Sorry. Let me just... tuck it... there we go."

Zharris clears her throat.

The best they could figure was, for all intents and purposes; spooning. You might think he could just lay flat or straight, but this was not a bed of convenience. A proper, well built bed meant for a good night's rest would allow that. Especially if it was actually to Ronnie's scale.

And as the pair notice, there are clasps in the headboard for... certain activities involving securing an individual in some form of restraint. No words are shared, only a mutual glance and the pursing of lips. The bed is built to be sturdy first, comfortable second.

The only way to make what little bed was left work, was to spoon. How convenient.

As for ways the night could have played out, neither admits that things honestly weren't that bad. Zharris was soft, Ronnie was warm. Both were respectful, and understanding. Not to mention, the underlying interest that continued to push their tolerance of the ever-ridiculous situation. They did have dinner planned, after all.

They just had to get through the night first.

"...Comfortable now?" Zharris asks over her shoulder. She's faced away, towards the edge of the bed, feeling the warmth from Ronnie's body against her back.

"Yeah. Can't promise I won't snore, but I can work with this. This isn't too much for you or anything, right?" Ronnie jokes, half expecting to wake up with a pillow over his face if he does. Feeling Zharris' fur against his underside, he certainly wouldn't be cold tonight. She's warm, if still a little damp, though that might be why she's got her back fully pressed up against him. The only downside was the awkward angle he was keeping his hips at, trying to keep... his obtrusive member tucked between his legs, but it would calm down soon enough. Probably. The difference in their height made that one a little easier, since she was higher up on the bed so she could reach the pillows. Downside, her mane was in his face. Thankfully, voluminous and soft, even after being wet.

Also a little damp.

"I am glad. Goodnight, Ronnie. Tonight was... interesting. I enjoyed your company. I doubt this event would have been as enjoyable without your companionship." She admits, shifting in the bed slightly.

"I'd have just stayed at that table and kept snacking if you didn't come say hi, so I appreciate that. Still on for breakfast or dinner or something tomorrow? Or are we going to awkwardly walk in two different directions, and pretend tonight never happened?"

"...I would like that."

"Pretending this didn't happen?"

Zharria snorts.
"No. I'd like breakfast. That sounds enjoyable."

The two lay in the dark, tucked under eccentric blankets, surrounded by too many pillows, both on the bed and on the floor, trying to move past the current situation by finding sleep early. What little light still carries between their curtains highlights the edges of Zharris form, though the light is slowly fading as proper night arrives.

Is this when one of the Princesses takes over, or something? Like, moves the moon? Are they focused on that all day, or do they just set it in motion? Ronnie had more questions, but they could wait. He didn't want to keep Zharris up.

... Though, while Zharris was comfortable to lay with, the bed... was not so. The mattress was stiff, and the pillows felt like they were for decoration.

Or biting, judging by the teeth marks a few inches from his face. Ronnie finds himself hoping the cleaners are thorough.

Unfortunately, the guests in the neighboring guest room didn't share that same goal of trying to enjoy an awkwardly close, quiet night. The shortly-lived quiet of the room is cut into by a sudden, muffled moan on the other side of the wall, and a rambunctious degree of creaking as they thud against the barrier between rooms.

"...They're really going at it, huh?" Ronnie jokes, lifting his head from the pillow and laughing to himself.

"Ronnie. Please." Zharris sighs, trying to dig her head further into hers. If she gets any deeper, she's gonna go through the mattress.

"...Hope the cleaning service is thorough." He snorts, vocalizing his musings, and Zharris groans loudly.

"Oh, do not... that is disgusting." Zharris grimaces, lip curling -- though the short snicker that escapes her doesn't get past Ronnie.
"Would you stop?" She grunts at him, before frowning at the wall.
"And would YOU quit it?" She nearly shouts.

No dice, the wall keeps thudding, the moans keep moaning, and the bed keeps creaking, all not quite as muffled as one would hope. Might have even had the opposite effect. Sounds like they're getting faster.

Ronnie settles back down, the two trying their best to ignore their neighbors.

Counting sheep... staring at the decorations on the wall. A nice painting of Mister Banks overlooking them while they sleep. Or try to. Or usually overlooking other activities.

What a promiscuous bunch.

Anyway, sleep.

...

It is not working.

Ronnie can feel Zharris take a deep breaths, her chest rising and falling heavily as she tries her own methods of forcing a slumber.

Given by how many times she sighs, they're in the same boat.

"Ronnie?" Her voice suddenly chimes in.

"Hm?" Ronnie hums, lifting his head.

"Still awake?"

"If I wasn't, I'd be surprised."

"Ronnie... might I ask you something?" Her tone is breathier than usual, and he can feel her tail flicking around under the blankets.

"Sure." He shrugs.

"Hold on..." She says quietly, nestling closer as she wriggles around, turning over so she's facing him. Her nose is nearly against his neck, her breath hot on his skin.

"What's bothering you?" Ronnie leans down, trying to get a better look. She seems... distracted, glancing away, mustering something.

Finally, she looks up at him, stopping her fidgeting. She braces herself, taking a long breath...

"...The Rhinoceros Beetle you spoke of. Is it as big as the Rhinoceros of our previous conversation, or is the only similarity it's name?" Zharris asks earnestly, perking up.

Ronnie does his best not to burst out laughing, but a smile still manages to slip its way through.
"...The name. They're no bigger than the palm of my hand, I think. A majority of bugs are pretty small. There's a few that can be kind of big, but not that big."

"Ah. I see." She nods, her gaze falling back down as she wriggles around to face away again. She pauses, looking at him again.
"And you don't know of any other kinds?"

"Not off the top of my head, no. I could try to get you a book about Earth bugs, if we can figure out how that whole process works." Ronnie instead offers.

"Thank you. I would cherish such a tome." She smiles softly, before a particularly loud smack from the other room turns it to a frown.

"Sure, Zharris. Goodnight." Ronnie sinks back into the bed.

"Goodnight."
She doesn't turn over, though. Still nestled against his chest, Ronnie can feel her crossed forearms as she leans against him, her slow, paced breath still against his skin. Her breath smells like one of those shrimp cupcakes she had earlier. It's a little odd, but not unpleasant.

He watches her fidget under the sheets, face making several expressions as she thinks to herself.

It doesn't take very long for her nose to pop back into Ronnie's view, garnering his attention again.

"Might I ask you something else?" Her voice alerts him, lifting his head again.

"More bugs?"

"Not... quite."

"Go for it."

"...This is somewhat miserable, is it not?"

"Kind of, yeah. This sucks."

"Not that you're a poor 'cuddle partner' or anything. I'm still shocked by how much heat you emit. But... my rear is hanging off the bed."

"Mine too, actually. Wanna make a floor fort?"

"You're not taking the floor, Ronnie." She tsks, getting tired of his polite offerings.

"No, like, both of us." He objects, sitting up and leaning on an elbow.

"Go on?" Zharris nods, curious.

"This bed is clearly not made for sleeping."

"Agreed."

"And I think if we pile up all the blankets, the pillows... we could probably sleep on the floor, instead. Comfier. More room."

"And we wouldn't have our heads right against the wall, nor listen to somepony get railed all night." She comments in a surprisingly crude choice of words, that only helps identify just how much she dislikes their predicament.
"This idea is sounding appealing. But... to assure our comfort, we should build such a fort to fit us comfortably, rather than waste material for sheer scale."

"Zharris... are you saying you still want to cuddle even if we're on the floor?"

"...Perhaps. You're warm." She mumbles, glancing away.

Aw. Ronnie can't help but grin, nudging her side.
"As are you. Alright, let's do it. Can't be worse than this. Actually, I'm surprised you agreed to this so quickly." Ronnie comments, swinging his legs over the bed.

"This bed is detestable." Zharris assures, starting to get up.

"What do you normally do when you visit one of Mister Banks events?" Ronnie asks, bunching up the top sheet as Zharris wriggles her way free, Ronnie standing up.

"Normally, I attend, make nice, and go...home. Early." Zharris' words slow, face growing redder, pausing in the midst of getting out of the bed.
"... Or I get a... hotel."

"...What?" Ronnie asks, craning his neck from behind the slowly piling bedding in his arms.

"Nothing." Zharris clears her throat, reaching for a pillow with her teeth, Ronnie stepping over to dump everything on the floor, and to start clearing some extra space.

Dresser, moved. They weren't using the bed, so anything on the floor that was cramping up some space became a target to be dragged beside it. Desk, chair... the Mister Banks painting was getting tucked away, too.

Zharris seemed to be distracted, watching Ronnie moving things -- every time he started moving furniture, her own pace of adding to the fort would slow significantly.

It doesn't take too long before they've got themselves a little setup on the floor. Several blankets and pillows to lay on, organized by the comfiest on top, all away from the offending wall, which now sports most of the furniture in the room pushed up against it. Ronnie's pretty proud of it, honestly.

Zharris still has a single pillow in her mouth, dangling from her clenched teeth.

"Everything alright?"

"Mmhm." She mutters.

"What..." Ronnie glances down.

Right. No pants. He's been flashing her the entire time, too focused on building his little fort, little Ronnie to the wind.

"Oop, shit. Sorry." He quickly twists a leg, trying to cover himself.

Zharris drops the final pillow, stifling a laugh with her hoof. There's a warm glow stuck to her cheeks that curves around her snout, as she watches him awkwardly contort to try and cover himself while standing.
"A little late for that, but the thought is appreciated. You humans have such strange forms."

She 'climbs' into their newly constructed nest, using her nose to lift the blankets before crawling in herself, not unlike a dog would.
"Well?" She chimes expectantly while she's getting settled.

Ronnie kneels once he thinks she's not looking, pulling up the blankets to cover himself before slipping in and joining her.

"Somehow... the carpet feels better than the mattress. Though it may just be my mind tricking itself so I actually get some sleep." Zharris mutters, wriggling into position.

"Wouldn't mind some of that myself. Try not to hog all the placebo effect?" Ronnie comments, feeling a little awkward after flashing the zebra for the last ten minutes. At least the floor was, markedly, more comfortable then the poorly designed set bed.

"No promises, I'm pretty tired."
They're both laid on the floor, staring at the ceiling.

Yeah, this was better.

One thing was missing though.

Zharris breaks the silence, glancing over towards Ronnie from under the sheets.
"I know we have room now, but..."

"Missing the warmth?"

"Would you mind?"

"No issue with..."

"I'm not... unappreciative of the firsthoof demonstrations, if I can say. Just try to not let it poke me." She equally avoids the question, while walking right into it.

"I'd say no promises, but I think we've made it pretty clear that's not how we want this night to go."
Ronnie chuckles as he opens his arms, lifting the blanket around himself and making room for the curious Zebra, who quickly shuffles over -- Ronnie helping by pulling her in once she gets close, until they're in an almost exact replica of the position they were in moments ago on the mattress. Both eagerly accepts the others offered warmth under the sheets, skin to fur, pressing against the other even more than prior.

Yet this time, it isn't so bad. Probably just how shit the bed was.

"Are all humans this warm, or is it just one of your Fire-Fighter things, to be akin to a furnace?" Zharris mumbles, her back firmly pressed into his chest. This time, Ronnie's having difficulty keeping his hips tilted away, the way she's so steadily aligned against his underside.
"Might be good to keep one of you around on those cold Farasian nights..."

"There's definitely an appeal to this kind of thing. Put up a job listing, I'm sure you could find someone."

"And what if I had a specific individual in mind?"

"Depends, I suppose. What might be the going rates?"

"Is an evening with such a beautiful mare not enough for your voracious soul?"

"Ah, but I've already got that."

"Hm? Oh, I was speaking of that Jacob fellow, he seems nice. Since he's akin to a Zebra, perhaps we'll get along?" Zharris asks, a coy smile creeping across her lips as she glances at him from over her shoulder.

"..." Ronnie frowns, tsking dryly.

Zharris snorts, her body twitching as she giggles.
"I kid. Perhaps we can discuss fees and such over tomorrow's breakfast."

"Mmhm. Goodnight, Zharris." Ronnie shakes his head, trying to hide his own bemused smirk.

"Goodnight, Ronnie." She says, though her words are still troubled with the odd snicker.

The two press further into the pillows, to attempt a rest previously denied by their neighbors. In the time it's taken them, the room is nearly entirely dark, save for the lightest hint of deeply-hued color creeping through the covered window, offering Ronnie's adjusted eyes the slightest aid in visualizing the mare he's sleeping aside. Beyond simple sight, however, the sensation of touch provides far more information to his sleepy curiosity.

He can feel Zharris still fidgeting under the sheets, mumbling to herself, like she's uncomfortable or having trouble getting settled.

Before he has the chance to ask her about it, however, she speaks up.

"This is going to sound... strange, and I don't want it to sound misleading at all. But..." She suddenly asks, rolling over in the bed to face him. Her face is firm, but there's an undeniable twitch of nervousness in her hooves. That glow from earlier is still firmly radiating from her snout and cheeks, even as she makes eye contact.
"I'm having some trouble falling asleep... could I request that you pet me again? Is that strange of me to ask?"

"Head and ears?" Ronnie's hand snakes out from behind a pillow, fingers waggling.

"That would be divine." She scoots closer, tilting her head down and neck up. He can feel her nostrils huff warm air against his neck again as she nestles right in, unabashed.

His fingers brush into her fur, caressing upwards into her mane.

"It's kind of funny..."

"What is?"

"Nothing."

"You can't just start a comment and bail on it, Ronnie. Show some dedication." She mumbles, tapping his chest with a hoof.

"... Jiggles does the same thing when he wants pets." Ronnie mutters, Zharris frowning.

"... Are you comparing me to your pet cat?" Zharris tsks dryly.

"That's why I stopped talking." Ronnie sighs.

"Now you have to keep petting me, or I'll take it personally." She huffs proudly, nudging closer. Somehow. They're practically smushed together at this point.

Ronnie rolls his eyes, producing a second hand from under the sheets. While one focuses on slowly raking through the fur on the beck of her neck, up into her mane, and back down again, the other hand begins tracing the base of her ear. It flicks every time he rounds it, tickling as he follows the edge of her ear to the tip.

Zharris let's out a long, content hum.
"...You can go lower." She huffs quietly.

Ronnie pauses, catching her attention, eyes widening.

"O-oh, not like that. Just..."

"Being blunt might do us both a favor here. Could you give me a quick heads up about... pony... erogenous zones? Places I should avoid?"

The blush on her face gets brighter, ears flattening.
"Um..."

"Because earlier, when I was petting your chest at the pool, that's roughly where a zone would be on a human woman. So I'm just trying to..." Ronnie tries to be politely blunt about it. It's a little difficult, dancing around the topic when their situation is already so... well, flagrantly sensual.

"No, I appreciate that you ask, Ronnie." Zharris sighs, taking a moment and steeling herself.
"From what I've... seen, I'm assuming we have similar genitalia. Just... placed differently. So..."

"Butt and it's surrounding regions?"

"...Yes."

"So everything higher than that is alright?"

"...Mostly, yes."

"Mostly?"

"Your hands. It's not a sensation that I'm used to. It feels... good. Good, in a confusing way that makes me question things. Ponies, Zebra, when we're close to another, will nuzzle, or enjoy being near another. This, is... overstimulating, in the best of ways. It's why I suppose I'm having trouble finding... boundaries, and why I appreciate you for being willing to respect them." Zharris explains, lifting her head to look at his face while he speaks, their noses close.

"...Ah." Is about all Ronnie can muster, as things start to make more sense. They've already made their stances on the situation, but also their mutual interest, clear... but the situation was completely new for both of them, and the overlap between how each of their species handles things was causing some unnecessary chafing.

"Thank you for explaining, Zharris. Could I ask you a favor, then?"

"...What would that be?"

"Since we've established... what both of us are looking for in this moment, would you trust me to lead?"

"Lead?" She repeats, head tilting slightly into the pillow.

"If you're uncomfortable at any point, you can ask me to stop. But I think I've got a good idea of what you're looking for, with something to... help you fall asleep."

She seems a little hesitant, glancing down at his chest, hooves fidgeting with the other.
"I... okay." She eventually manages, placing her tentative trust in him.

Rather than her mane, or her body, Zharris finds the palm of Ronnie's hand gently cupping her cheek, thumb stroking through the surprisingly softer face-fur that lines her surprised expression. While his fingers work along the edge of her jaw, his other arm raises over her, wrapping around her back and pulling her tightly against him, tracing circles between her shoulders and occasionally rising to stroke through her mane.

The wordless Zharris hardly has a response for this sudden action, beyond her back reflexively arching under the sudden contact. A harrowingly, but surprisingly respectful, assault upon her senses that left her confused, appeased, and mumbling under her breath. Careful, tender affection and an unbridled proximity sends tingles that ripple up her body, Ronnie able to feel every twitch from her.

"We can stop at any time." Ronnie reminds, worried that he's overstimulating her as she previously claimed -- but her face snaps upward, her nose smacking his, getting a surprised laugh from him.

"Do not." Zharris snips, trembling.
"This is...." She barely manages, breathy. Her mane is messy from all the bed-bound movement she's been up to, loose strands falling in her face as she gasps quietly. Ronnie can feel her hooves pat his sides, slowly feeling him out under the sheets to pull him close in turn, wrapping herself around him.

This was... getting a lot more sensual than he initially intended. Honestly, Ronnie isn't really sure what he expected to happen, considering her last reaction. At least she wasn't against it, but still, not where he was trying to lead the night.

Or maybe Ponies, and Zebras and such are just... weirdly physical.

...He can feel her hind leg between his legs as she returns his embrace, accidentally brushing his member more than once, between small gasps. She's got no clue, completely subsumed in the attention on her head.

Stay strong, Ronnie. You're a man of principles. Just think of that breakfast. Or how everyone else in this building is probably getting busy. Or how there's a breathy, supple mare currently straddling your waist.

Yeah, this was gonna be a tough night.

Morning Headaches

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.

Casually Cruising Canterlot

"So how did you meet Ariss? You guys have pretty similar names, and it looks you two get along well enough." Ronnie asks, trying his best to not look awkward as they walk a sloped ramp back into the depths of Canterlot, away from the windy edges of the wall, trading a sprawling view of plains for a dense, medieval urban center.

"Zebra phonetics dictate most Zebra's be named with a Z. It's a cultural practice. Apparently, Griffon phonetics dictate most Griffons be named with a G. Ariss chose to break that mold and changed her name when she moved from Griffonia, as amusingly close as it is to mine. I met her during my second time coming to Canterlot. After realizing what Mister Banks... 'gets up to' the first Event of his I attended, after becoming a partner with him, I decided I'd rather not stick around as awkwardly as I did the first time. I still had some time to waste, so I started wandering. Wanted to see the view... and ended up finding Ariss' cafe. I keep going now, every time I find myself in Canterlot. She's been quite accommodating, though the Griffonian preference for teasing is ever present. They're a species that enjoys picking on their friends. Builds character, or so she says." Zharris explains -- Ronnie does his best to listen, but she gets ahead of him while she's speaking, and the way she heads down the slope is far more interesting to watch than how he does it. A lot more hip-twisting.

"Still surprised me when you ordered eggs. I really thought all Ponies would just eat..."

"Lettuce? Hay? Grass?" Zharris guesses, grinning.

"All of the above, yeah. Leafy greens and plants." Ronnie admits.

"As I've said, that mindset works for Equestria, but not quite everywhere else. I'm excited for you to see Farasian dishes -- I think the cuisine will surprise you. We've a lot less treats and sugars than Equestria, though they're no slouch in the taste department."

"But you look forward to Equestrian food...?" Ronnie squints.

"Of course. It's like a treat, though best eaten in moderation for those of us who aren't the Equestrian complexion." Zharris bumps his leg, nodding forward.

...

"Well that is certainly... quaint."

"Ouch."

"Oh, I mean it in the best way, of course."

"And what about it makes it... quaint?" Ronnie gestures to the glass-covered display of the small clothing shop they've stopped in front of, stood to the side of the road as a few late-morning bustlers make their way to work around them.

"Well, you can see they went with a tri-stitch, rather than a double. Getting a thicker material for..." Zharris starts explaining Farasian and Equestrian methods of securing fabrics, choices of which thickness to use for certain weathers, advantages of each, and overall skill of the craftsman. Or craftspony.

Ronnie, of course, does his best to listen, but his eyes inevitably wander. They've been doing that a lot more lately, mostly settling on the striped object of interest always somewhere in, at least, his peripheral view. He had a feeling no matter what he saw in Canterlot, his eyes were going to pretty consistently pick the same thing.

That dress was just working for her. As polite as he may be, the longer he remained in Zharris' company, the harder it was to not look at her in certain, shapely, hip-shaking lenses.

"...Though I can understand why they'd choose that for the embroidery. It certainly makes it pop. But all in all, I call it quaint as it's clearly a side piece. Something simple to sell. There's no... passion, no experimentation." Zharris surmises, looking up at him.
"What do you think?"

"Not sure if I can sniff out if someone was passionately making a pair of pants or a hat or not, but it looks alright." Ronnie shrugs, unsure. How would a pony wear pants, anyway? Like a person on the back two legs? On the entire underbelly, on all four legs? Only the front two?

"Pants?" Zharris snorts. "You'll never catch a Pony wearing those. They despise such. Best sold to Minotaurs or the like."

"...Huh. Well, want to go inside and take a look?"

"Hardly. No offense to the craftspony, but flair is their only form of fashion here, especially in the big cities." Zharris objects, pointing to another stand in the same display. Unlike the first, it was a far more complex design, with a lot more pop.
"The rural, tourist pony might take the first. But that dress was made to catch the eye of a wandering noble. And that's the fashion game here in Canterlot. Color. Splash. Eye-Catching designs. New trends, or well-captured old trends. Canterlot is so perpetuated in showing off to themselves, nothing is truly out of fashion if you've the boldness to wear it." Zharris continues, before starting back down the street again.

"Hm." Ronnie hums, hands clasping behind his back as he trails after her.

He wouldn't have minded seeing her in either of those outfits, but he respected how hard she played this fashion game.

...

Zharris hesitates outside of a bakery they're in the middle of passing, before upturning her nose and continuing forward.

She only pauses when she realizes Ronnie has stopped beside it's door, crossing his arms.
"Oh, no. I've had enough treats for this trip." She calls back, trying to push forward.

"Not even going to look?" Ronnie calls after her, to which she shakes her head.

"You are free to do so, but I shall wait out here. If I go inside, I'm afraid my resolution will crumble. The smell is already too tempting, out here."

"Alright, just a moment then. I wanna see what kind of stuff they make around here..." Ronnie goes to duck inside, about to leave Zharris to her own, outdoor means.

"Mister Harrelson. You mean to leave me all by myself, in these cold Canterlot streets?" She huffs loudly, giving him a look.

Cold? It's warm out.

"You could just... come in and look, you know. And not deprive me of your company." Ronnie counters, matching her pouty lip.

"And you'll take the blame when I inevitably crumble and buy a baked good? Or two? Or three?" She returns, frowning.

"You're a big mare. You can spend your money how you like." He grins, ducking inside.

Zharris huffs alone, outside for a moment, before the inevitable smell of crispy, flaky treats tickles her nose from the crack in the door.

It's not too long until she joins him shortly.

...

"And how will we communicate? Letters?" Ronnie asks, digging through his little paper bag for a powdered donut.
"I'd love to just give you my phone, but... no reception. And they kind of confiscated most of our one-sided technology at the border, so... yeah, letters. If they'll even let them through in the future."

"Mm-mnonmometh." Zharris' muffled words fail to pierce through a mouthful of buttered croissant, before swallowing and wiping her mouth with a napkin.
"Letters, most likely. They'll have to be inspection by the inspectors stationed at the Portal -- so try to keep things tame, if your words are anything like your hands." She tsks playfully.

"Zharris." Ronnie huffs, hand to his chest.
"I suppose I'll do my best, but no promises." He retorts, Zharris snorting -- right as a few other ponies pass by them, Zharris quickly hiding behind a hoof.

After a few moments, and a turn down the next street, the pair slip into a fit of chuckles and laughter, nearly dropping their treats.

"Oh..." Zharris sighs, getting out the last giggle.
"It's a shame we've both such a short time together. You're enjoyable company, Ronnie."

"Yeah, I take it trying to stay on this side of the portal is a little... dicey, to say the least, at least for now."

"I've yet to hear of anypony attempting such in either direction, yet." Zharris nods in agreement.
"I've a ferry ticket that I've all but pushed my wiggle-room on with this extra day, I'm afraid. If I spent another day in Canterlot after this, Zabra would very likely chew me out for slipping in my responsibilities."

"And I could never ask that of you. Plus, I can't leave Jiggles alone for too long. He gets lonely. And loud." Ronnie jokes -- though he's entirely serious. Jiggles was no stranger to getting him a noise complaint or two on some of his longer shifts.

"I expected returning to your career as a Fighter of Fires to take priority." Zharris adds, giving him a look.
"I'm certain there's yet more mares in distress in need of carrying."

"Nope, just Jiggles. You ever need to be carried though, feel free to ask. I could probably free up some time for you." Ronnie winks, before treating himself to his powdered confection.

Zharris rolls her eyes.
"Best be careful with your promises, Mister Harrelson. They only continue to stack up against you, all to my advantage." She warns, though it falls of playfully deaf ears.

She watches him happily crunch down, a soft smile sat on her face. She wasn't kidding when she said she'd collect one of them. No matter how many trials it might take, she wanted to pursue this strange avenue the pair had ended up walking together. Certainly a far cry from anything traditional... and perhaps guided by interests in being pet again, she wasn't going to let one of the few citrus connections she'd found slip away.

Ronnie, blissfully unaware of just how deeply Zharris is staring into him, goes to offer her a powdered donut.

The way she slowly bites it from his hand was anything but platonic.

...

"Looks like they've about rounded everypony up to go." Zharris notes wistfully, leaning against his leg.

They'd taken a moment to clean up after their little binge, having made the rounds through some of Canterlot'a larger streets, until they wound back up in the decorated, uppity noble sector of the city, watching the bustle of the Banks estate from a short distance. The sun hung directly overhead, the hours they'd spent from morning to noon passing without notice.

"So they have. Might have to go in a few minutes, here." Ronnie comments, leaning down to scratch at Zharris' neck.

Most of the other Firefighters had gathered up their belongings into the truck, and were idling around it in various states of dress. And while several of the ponies had ferried themselves off, either in carriages waiting for them or through meager walks of shame to their neighboring mansions, a few had stuck around and were conversing with some of the other humans. Seems like Ronnie and Zharris weren't the only pairs that had found an interest in each-other, though their circumstances might differ.

"Would writing to your Station be acceptable?" Zharris asks, looking up to him. Her chin squishes against his leg, her large, near-sparkling eyes watching his face with a tinge of looming sorrow.

"Probably would get processed easier than writing to me personally." Ronnie agrees. Now that the entire Station has been through, they might keep better track of... Ronnie has no clue. He just wants to actually get whatever letter Zharris sends.
"I spend a good chunk of my time there anyway. You know, job and all. You write me first, include all your address details and such?"

"Certainly. I'll make doubly sure you can respond. I'll visit myself if I have to." Zharris assures firmly.

"I'll do what I can on my side, too. I think the Chief should have some connections after this, since he knows who to talk to about these things now."

The two continue to stand just to the side watching. Neither wanting to make the first move in parting from the other, hoping to delay exiting the others company for as long as possible. It's a futile effort that's doomed to end poorly amy moment now -- but neither is willing to give up the scant few moments they might be able to scrape together.

Each wants to see the other again, despite the looming odds against those efforts. Casual dating seems almost impossible in the face of the hurdles that await them, yet they're willing to persevere.

But the inevitable looms nonetheless. Ronnie can see the Chief waving him over, finally noticing him -- as a voice calls for Zharris from up the street, another Zebra trotting towards them both.

"Looks like our time is up." Zharris reluctantly pulls herself from leaning on Ronnie, staring up at him.

Without any words, Ronnie kneels down, carefully cupping each side of Zharris face.

"I'll see you soon, yeah?" Ronnie says quietly.

"Each day will be much colder without your presence, Ronnie of Earth. Hurry back." She whispers, leaning forward.

The Zebra approaching them almost skids to a stop, jaw slack, as Zharris' lips carefully press against Ronnie's. It's a tense, nervous kiss that tastes a mixture of their breakfast and ensuing treat, all combined to surprise Ronnie, his eyes widening.

But nervousness turns to confidence, the pair renewing their efforts as they press further into each-other when neither reacts poorly. Zharris' hoof reaches up to rest against the back of Ronnie's hand, as he continues to softly cradle her face.

A distant whistle, followed by an equally distant slap and 'ow', returns them to the world around them as they pull apart, each taking a lengthy breath.

The Zebra has reached a few feet from them, awkwardly looking away as he waits.

"Miss Zharris. We, uh... need to go. When you're done. The train to the coast is leaving soon." He dutifully reports without eye-contact, hooves tapping the ground.

"Thank you, Zabra." She nods, pressing her forehead to Ronnie's.
"See you soon, Mister Harrelson... distance won't keep up apart for long." She reassures quietly, smiling at him through the fervent blush that streaks across her cheeks.

"See you soon, Miss Zharris." Ronnie rests against her, trying to calm the nerves he hasn't felt since he was a high-school boy.

Neither wants to break the embrace, but time is not the ally of their desires, the pair finally parting. Zharris treads towards the station on the edge of Canterlot to return to her home across the water, while Ronnie crosses back into the estate under the cheeky glare of his fellows.

It felt like an unfair, insurmountable obstacle that had been placed between them. Not only a portal, between worlds, but an ocean of distance, and a wealth of bureaucracy stood between each of them seeing the other again.

But Ronnie wasn't worried. As strange as finding feelings for an alien species might be, there was no doubt in his mind.

He wanted to see her again. He wanted to hold her again, to hear her voice, her laugh. To see that excitable, playful side that slipped through.

... Bugtholomew and Bugjamin. The names kept repeating in his head, so he wouldn't forget. He needed a book about Earth bugs. She'd love that.

Back On Earth

When Ronnie spoke to the Chief about how one might go about establishing some form of contact, Ronnie was expecting an uphill battle every inch of the way. And, yes, it would be one. Even with Zharris carving her own path from her side of the Portal, there was a lot of red tape to be covered when it came to personal, interplanetary relationships. As of right now, almost everything that happened between the Portal was sanctioned by entire governments or groups, with their recent trip being turned into a relations-boosting event. Not to mention a lot of unknown tape yet to be drawn across yet equally unknown boundaries -- though to his surprise, it turns out he wasn't the only one who formed an interest in the other side of the portal. A few of the other, single guys were speaking a similar interest in getting across the portal again, following some... choice interactions at the party. Looks like a few of the mares had wriggled their way into human hearts, and the additional voices that wanted to get back across to see those same mares only added to his own.

Though, none of them were from Farasi. That extra trouble was Ronnie and Zharris' alone to tackle.

Mister Banks, who was exuberant upon hearing of their interest in a continued interaction from a portal-passed letter, was more than happy to relay the departments interests to the Canterlot Royalty. Managing to grease enough hooves, fatten enough pockets, and making a surprisingly heartfelt speech at an inter-portal streamed speech to get a favorable word and a meeting with several higher-ups of both nations. Expressing his enthusiastic reaction to the positive outcomes of the event hosted on his estate grounds, and the step forward in interspecies opinions that occurred from such unbridled mingling.

Every week, for months, Ronnie wasn't alone as they would continue to bug the Chief for any updates. For any letters, for anything.

For the others, it was a bit easier being located in Canterlot. Ronnie's case might have had a hiccup, with his particular interest being in Farasi, across the water. But Mister Banks again proved himself an appreciative and gracious benefactor. Personally footing -- or hoofing -- the means to keep Ronnie and Zharris in contact, claiming he was simply happy that Zharris had 'truly enjoyed one of his events, for once'.

Lumbridge City, America | The Lunchroom of Station 37 | 4 Months Later

"Ronnie." Jacob leans in the doorway, knocking on the wall.

"Huh?" Ronnie glances up from the couch, midway through his lunch.
"What's up, Zebra?" Ronnie barely manages to say, a grin cracking on his face before ducking -- a clipboard flying over his head, clattering to the floor.

"I told you I'm gonna kick your ass if you keep that nickname up. I already kicked David's shit in for it, and I'll get you next." Jacob warns sternly, though he's having trouble hiding his own grin. Considering the attention he got during the party, Jacob didn't seem to mind the nickname all that much.

"Sorry, sorry." Ronnie laughs, holding his hands up in surrender. Jacob rolls his eyes, carrying on.

"Speaking of Zebra's... you've got a visitor." Is all he says, before ducking back out into the hall.

Ronnie freezes. A... visitor? Not a letter? His eyes widen, a smile taking his face.

Jacob flinches as Ronnie suddenly vaults the couch and barrels down the hall, watching him leave his lunch behind.

"...If you're not gonna finish it..." Jacob smirks, stepping back into the lunchroom.

Ronnie clears the firehouse in near record time as he reaches the reception desk, sliding to a stop, panting heavily. The Chief, leaning against the desk, looks up from the striped visitor.
"I'm just gonna tell you someone with stripes is here to see you whenever there's a fire. Never seen you bust so much ass." The Chief laughs as Ronnie enters the room.

It's a sturdy, but stern looking Zebra stallion, his mane tied back into a braid. He's got the same strikingly bright-purple eyes of Zharris, which feel like they're burning a hole through him. He offers no words yet, only looking over Ronnie with a judgemental glare. He's got a Saddlebag on his back... and an escort of another pair of Zebra's waiting just outside, donning cloaks. Ronnie glances between the two as breath manages it's way back into his lungs, confused.

"Not who you were expecting?" The Chief ribs, nudging Ronnie's shoulder before nodding to the stranger.
"Don't keep him waiting. You'll like this." He says to the Zebra, nodding at Ronnie.

The Zebra steps forward, rummaging a letter out of his pack, and presenting it with his teeth.
"Mister Harrelson?" He asks, staring expectantly. It feels very formal.

Ronnie quickly stands straighter, wiping crumbs off his shirt.

"Oh, thanks." Ronnie mumbles, holding it up. Unlike a letter in an envelope he might have been expecting, it's a rolled up parchment with a rough texture, bound together with a red seal. He pops open the wax with a thumb, eyes widening as it unfurls to reveal it's contents.

~~~

Mister Harrelson,

Firstly, I would like to apologize for being unable to send anything until now. I know it has been some time since we have last seen the other. I hope you, and Jiggles, are faring well.

While I'm still in the process of procuring myself a 'Computer', I've managed to get a hoof onto the negotiations for the first Equestrian branch of 'the internet'. Apparently, they're to do trials of seeing how it reacts to Equus' magic, and if cable and tower can be constructed in Equestria with Equestrian materials, or if it must be imported. I'm actually serving on the Farasian council in talks to getting a deep-sea cable ran to Farasi, alongside several other nations that rest across the water from Equestria -- your explanations made it incredibly easy to quantify and break it down for the other members to understand how it works, and for that, you have my deepest thanks. Perhaps we can send 'Electronic Letters' soon? Though, do not worry about that now. That is for the future, if time demands we spend more of it apart.

As for the present, merely sending letters is not the sole purpose of me sending my assistant, Zabra, with this message. Believe me, I would have been endeared to deliver this missive myself, but the process to get oneself through the portal is still a significant ordeal, and I couldn't spend that much time away from my business. Mister Banks has been very kind in assisting with this endeavor, actually. Without him, I fear this attempt would still be floating in the perpetual red-tape of international requests. He continues to joke that his last event was his best, since I 'actually partook' this time. I believe he is waiting until he can get more humans for his next party, since they were 'such a hit' in his words.

What I wanted to present you with, which Zabra currently carries on his pony, is an invitation. It was no small hoofwork to secure it, but I am glad to be the one to present it to you, even if it is through words upon parchment. Is a Portal-Pass. They are beginning a program to allow individuals, both Pony and Human, to cross between the Portal if they hold one of these, as long as it's within the designated time frame, purposes, and a state-approved reasoning. It's all still in the works, something apparently based off of Earth's approach to borders, but I'm proud to be the one to invite you to join me, in Farasi. Worry not about the reason the Portal-Pass states, I will explain it all when you arrive. Transportation from the Portal, a train ticket to one of Equestria's coastal cities, and a ferry ticket across the water, has already been handled. Zabra will be your guide through these endeavors. He understands the importance of this. Of you, to me.

I understand this may be sudden, and may not work entirely, as I'm still unsure of how your Earthly obligations may affect this... but I do hope to see you again, soon.

I'll be waiting for you.

Yours,
Zharris

~~~

As Ronnie looks up from the letter, the Zebra -- Zabra -- is holding out a surprisingly official looking pass. It looks laminated, featuring the royal seals of what Ronnie assumes to be both Equestria, and Farasi. Now that he's a name to the face, Ronnie recognizes the Zebra from the last moments he spent with Zharris those months ago.

As Ronnie takes it, he slowly looks over it in his hands, glancing at the Chief.
"I... think I'll be cashing in my vacation days."

"Won't need to. As of today, you're on semi-permanent leave." The Chief retorts, reaching around the reception desk to rifle around for something.

"...Huh?" Ronnie mutters, confused as he watches the Chief produce another paper.

"That pass comes with the title of E.P.O.I." The Chief explains, crossing his arms and reading from the page.
"An Earth Person Of Interest. You're going to get trained by the staff at the Portal for interplanetary conduct, and will be a representative of Earth to the nation of Farasi. Basically, we have no idea how long that's going to take, so we're putting you on leave for now, but there's a few others serving the same thing for other interactions they've had. I believe there's three for Equestria, two for Griffonia -- one one for Farasi. You."

"So, do I still have a job? Or how does that work?" Ronnie questions, a little overwhelmed at the sudden turn.

"Sure, if you ever come back." The Chief jokes, laughing.

Zabra clears his throat, gaining their attention.
"Miss Zharris has assured that any and all needs will be compensated entirely by herself, personally. Any questions you have are best saved for the Officers at the portal, since your case is... unique."

"Unique?" Ronnie parrots, confused.

"The others that are being considered for this program are getting visitor passes to Canterlot, so they may see their... interests on their off time. You, however, will be the first human to set foot in Farasi. There's quite a few hurdles involved in that." Zabra explains.
"Talk and trot?"

Ronnie can imagine. It's a little nerve-wracking, this sudden role he just got thrust into.

... Or is he just excited to see Zharris again?

...

"You have about a day to pack. They will wait outside, but I will remain with you to ensure you've everything you need." Zabra explains, trotting up the steps behind Ronnie.

"Oh, you don't have to..." Ronnie tries to deflect while rustling around for his keys.

"It was Miss Zharris' direct request. No room for negotiating." Zabra snips firmly, putting the matter to rest.

Ah. Explains why he's been glued to Ronnie's side, despite looking like he wants nothing to do with him.

Watching the other two Zebra's post up at the bottom of the stairs, Ronnie finally digs out his keys before he manages the door to his apartment, stepping aside as Zabra helps himself inside, still speaking.

"You will need to pack several things of clothes, and any other mandatory supplies you may need. This trip is expected to last at least a month, and that does not include travel time. While the Equestrian rail system is adequate, naval travel will --"

"Mrrrooooow."

Zabra snaps to a stop, confusion contorting his face as the door swings open, revealing the apartment's sole occupant. A fluffy, orange striped cat that blinks expectantly at the pair, sat on the floor.

"...What in Tartarus is that?" He scoffs, leaning around Ronnie as he steps around the paused Zebra, to see better.

Ronnie leans down, scratching Jiggles between the ears as he steps back inside the comfort of his abode.
"Jiggles, my cat. Come on in, he won't bite. Though he may nibble." Ronnie waves Zabra to join him, slumping his lunchbag on the table.

Zabra tentatively steps inside the relatively small living space, shutting the door firmly with his back hoof. Every passing moment, he wondered more and more why Miss Zharris chose...

Ronnie has Jiggles lifted in the air, wiggling him back and forth, putting the cats paws on his face.

... This one, out of all of her options. Zabra shakes his head, trying to remain professional, despite wondering if she'd been coerced or tricked.

A loudly cleared throat gets Ronnie's attention, glancing over from underneath furred feet smushing his face.
"Please try to focus, Mister Harrelson. You're only allowed a limited capacity of luggage, and try to remember you'll be beheld to significant distance to travel. Pack what you need to sustain an extended stay, and little more. Try to leave any..." Zabra trails off, giving Jiggles a disdainful stare.
"...Unnecessary additions to your packing."

...

Ronnie tried offering Zabra a few things. Something to drink, a place to sit, but the guys kind of high strung, and just wanted to stay stood at the doorway to observe.

Nonetheless, Ronnie continues to pack, getting most of what he needs sorted in the living room while he digs through the house, preparing for his 'extended vacation', with Jiggles helping by supervising their striped visitor from the couch. Though Zabra's resilience to the situation doesn't stop Ronnie from throwing a few questions his way even as the Zebra tentatively looks over the strange objects that Ronnie owns.

"You sure you don't want anything? I'm sure I've got something you can eat in there." Ronnie nods the at the fridge, glancing up from a half-packed bag.

"No." Zabra states simply, lip furling at the thought. He doesn't offer anything else, either. Beyond instructing Ronnie, he's not much of one for talking.

"You don't seem terribly excited to be on Earth, if I can say." Ronnie comments, trying to make smalltalk.

"I'm not. This place is... strange, and your people rude. I much prefer Farasi."
Another blunt statement, Zabra avoiding eye contact.

"Guys at the portal give you a hard time?" Ronnie guesses, remembering his first way in. And the way back out. The Ponies still postured, but they were a lot nicer than the human side. Like the TSA on steroids.

Zabra doesn't respond, staring at a few of the pictures posted on Ronnie's fridge. They're all of himself and Jiggles, posed up and facing the camera, Jiggles usually in his arms.

Zabra groans to himself, looking away.
"If you wouldn't mind focusing on your packing, Mister Harrelson. There isn't much time for questions or chatter."

"Sure there is." Ronnie retorts with a resounding zip of one of his bags, tossing it towards the door.
"I pack faster when I'm chatty, just ask Jiggles."

"Ask... the Cat? You're being sarcastic, yes?" Zabda slowly paces out, squinting.

"Mmrrrooooow." Jiggles joins in from his distant, couch-contained place of supervision. It's a crunchy, gravely noise that sounds more like a dying engine than a cat.

"That... I will refrain, thanks." Zabra groans, steeling himself for an entire trip of this.

...

"So, Zabra..." Ronnie suddenly prompts, peeking his head out of the bathroom, in the midst of packing his dental necessities.

"Mm?" Zabra grunts, glancing up. Hes finally sat down, though it's still by the door.

Ronnie's about to ask why his name is so close to Zebra, but realizes that might be... insensitive? He's trying to build a rapport here, anyway.

"How long have you been working with Zharris?" Ronnie quickly switches tracks, going for a broader question.

"Since she began her company." He states firmly -- Ronnie can almost hear the tinge of pride that slips its way into his words.

"First man on the scene?"

"Pardon?"

Right, Pony. Ronnie forgot about all the pony slang over these last few months.

"Ah, like... you're her first employee? Work partner? I don't actually know too much of how Zharris runs her stuff."

"Of course you wouldn't." Zabra scoffs to himself, shifting his hooves.
"Miss Zharris is the head of a large textile operation, and remains quite busy. I assist as her right-hoof, handling any tasks she's unable to complete herself."

"Like fetching the guy she met at a party four months ago." Ronnie leers, grinning.

"...Yes." Zabra grumbles.

"So... secretary?" Ronnie guesses, tossing his toothbrush and such into a baggy.

"No."

"Receptionist?"

"No. Her right-hoof."

"Oh, like, you hold shares in the company?"

"I--" Zabra stutters. That one caught him off guard.
"...Discussions of the Business that Miss Zharris runs are none of your concern, nor will I be imparting anything about it." Zabra shuts it down, looking away.

Further prodding doesn't get much from him, so Ronnie eventually leaves him alone.

...

"Is this everything?" Zabra double-checks, stood on the street outside Ronnie's apartment. There's two suitcases of luggage. One for clothes, one for personables. And a third, a cat carrier, which currently contains a very unbothered Jiggles, who sits on the verge of partaking himself in a nap.

Zabra wasn't too happy when Ronnie packed up the cat, but the Jiggles is non-negotiable.

The other two Zebra look curiously at the carrier, glancing between each-other. They look startlingly similar, the only difference in their choice of attire.

"Yup, that's about it." Ronnie affirms.

"Very well. Zor, Zar, handle the luggage. I assume Mister Harrelson is going to want to handle the feline, so now..." Zabra trails off, pulling a piece of paper from his bag. A very earthly, from a printer-paper.

It looks like a timetable for busses. Who printed that out for him?
"If we leave now, the nearest bus station will take us approximately fifteen minutes to reach, where we'll wait thirty minutes to board one of your Earth buses to the local rail. There, we will procure tickets to the nearest city by the portal, and..."

Ronnie, politely, clears his throat.

Zabra's slow glare works it's way up to Ronnie's face, while the pair of Zebra are trying to figure how to carry luggage that's nearly their size.

"You want to get to New Beetleflak, we don't need to do all that." Ronnie shrugs.

"And how do you propose we get there, then?" Zabra challenges, scrunching up his paper with his hooves. The other two watch curiously.
"This entire trip is the culmination of two straight months of learning Earth customs, just to get you to Miss Zharris. Please, tell me how you're ready to supercede my planning."

"Car." Ronnie shrugs simply.

"...What?" Zabra grunts.

...

The trunk to Ronnie's car slams shut, comfortably fitting his luggage. It'd been sitting a few feet away from them. It wasn't the newest thing, but she got Ronnie to and from the station, and the pet store, reliably enough. A simple four-door for urban cruising.

Zabra looks a little steamed with his carefully-made plans being trodden over by the simple fact that Ronnie owned a vehicle, grumbling to himself. The other two Zebras, Zor and Zar, are keenly interested in it.

"...Do we get in there, with the luggage?" One of them speaks up, surprising Ronnie.

"No, we ride on the inside. It's against the law to keep someone stuck in the trunk."

"Ahhh." They both hum, staring.

"Also, Jiggles is gonna ride in the back with you guys. Just make sure he doesn't rattle around too much, okay?" Ronnie pops the back door open, holding it open for the curious pair. Zabra is doing his best to look disinterested, but Ronnie can see him watching with a poorly hidden side-eye.

Zor carefully climbs in first, nearly hitting their head as they hop in and awkwardly shuffle deeper inside. Zar climbs in much more carefully, unsure if they should be stepping on the floor or the seat. Ronnie answers that question by sliding Jiggles carrier against the floor, behind the drivers seat, leaving the two Zebra... he wants to say twins, they look so similar, to figure out their seating.

"Dont forget your seat belts." Ronnie adds, shutting the door on their confused faces, turning to Zabra.
"And you get shotgun."

"I get what?" Zabra squints, cautiously stepping closer.

Ronnie nods for him to follow, leading him around the car, popping the front passenger door.

Zabra stares inside, squinting.
"...I just get in?"

"Yep, sit down with your back flush against the seat, and get your seat belt on. Or... however is comfortable. I know the seats aren't exactly made for you guys, but as long as you can get the seat belt on, we should be fine." Ronnie explains.

Zabra is cautious, but slowly climbs up into the car, before sitting squarely on his rump. At least he's decisive.

Ronnie finally joins them as he walks around the vehicle, slipping into the drivers seat.

None of them have quite figured out the seat belts yet. Zabra is close, pulling on the strap with his mouth, but the other two in the back are having some trouble. Feeling like a sudden parent, Ronnie leans from his seat to offer some help. For Zabra, it goes relatively unappreciated, getting waved away with a hoof once he's learned where the clip is supposed to go. The other two, not so much -- Ronnie has to take a moment to explain what a seat belt even is, before helping them get secured.

"What is this vehicle?" Zar leans forward against Ronnie's chair, eyes brimming with curiosity as Ronnie buckles in.

"Car. A mode of personal transportation." Ronnie offers.

"Every human has one of these?" Zor chimes in, scooting forward in their chair.

"Good amount of them, yeah. And for those that don't have one, we've got busses. Like a big car, that holds a lot more people." Ronnie continues to explain, the pair in the back listening intently.

"It seems redundant. A proper rail system is truly all a city needs. Any in-city travel should merely be handled on hoof." Zabra imparts, nose upturned.

Ronnie is realizing that ponies are weirdly good at speaking while holding something in their mouths.

"Well, from what I saw, you guys don't build your cities very wide. Not to mention, you guys cover more distance on your legs than we do ours. Human cities are big -- sprawled out, especially American cities. Your cities are more like... European cities, I'd guess."

"Excuse you? I am not peeing."

"No, it's--" Is all Ronnie manages before a snort-laugh escapes him.

"What?" Zabra squints.

The rest of the vehicles occupants are blissfully unaware of just how childish Ronnie's sense of humor can be.

...

"I'm going to be in Farasi for who knows how long. Let me spend some of my Earth-money while I've still got it. Want anything?" Ronnie tuts, lifting his butt up off the seat, producing a wallet from his back pocket. "It's not like we're making bad time or anything."

"No, I do not." Zabra groans, giving up and turning to face out the window, like a scorned girlfriend.

The car slowly inches forward, stuck in the line of the local NickMonalds. Had to have something to eat to remember Earth's egregious love of fast food before he left for Farasi, right? Plus, all this excitement wouldn't do on an empty stomach. Not quite a shared mood, unfortunately.

"Suit yourself." Ronnie shrugs, looking over his shoulder. "You two?"

"...I can get something?" Zor chimes in from the back seat, hooves pressing against the back of Ronnie's seat.

"As might I?" Zar adds, pressing in beside their other, both their noses protruding into Ronnie's peripheral.

"Sure, just look at the board." Ronnie gestures out the window, watching their snouts smush up against the glass. Their excited breaths fog it up, as wide eyes glare over the various, bright options. Combo meals, drinks, snacks and such, all readily available to wow a creature not yet used to sheer capitalism.

The only thing better than watching their server's reaction, was Zabra eventually caving to ordering something under the sheer excitement that was exuding out of Zor and Zar. They're a little shocked by the sheer amount of meat on the menu, but eventually settle on a few different meals, some of their choices surprised Ronnie. Like, Zor wanting chicken nuggets, Zar wanting a fishburger, and Zabra, with some difficulty, asking for a Whomper burger of all things. They even stuck to their choices when Ronnie clarified what they were. Apparently, that opportunistic-carnivore stuff was triggered by drive-thru's.

Their server, some young woman fresh out of highschool, barely managed to recount part of their order as they pulled up to the window.
"That was the... twelve piece, the fishburger meal, the..." She trails off, double-taking as a Zebra waves to her from the back-seat. Ponies were in the news, sure, but people sure as shit weren't used to seeing them out and about like this.

"Yep, that's us." Ronnie holds his card out.

"Why are you paying with a small card? Where is your 'Earth Dollars'?" Zabra whispers to Ronnie, confused.

"The fat American stacks?" Zar chimes in from the back, to Zor's nodding.
"The Moolah?"
"The cold hard cash?"
"The cha-ching?"
"No, we have that one too. That's the sound of the cash register."
"Oop, right."

Ronnie explains debit and credit cards to the Zebras after they've gotten their food, while they eat in the parking lot.

...

From the city Ronnie works in, it's only about a four hour drive from Beetlejak -- from the Portal. Not as bad as it could have been, thankfully. Zor and Zar are entirely passed out in the back seat, snoring loudly atop one another, Jiggles presumably joining them from his carrier. Hard to see from the angle he had Jiggles tucked away.

Zabra, however, did not allow the food to subsume him into a comatose state. While still quite judgy of it's notably weird taste, probably the difference between eating delicious american chemical additives for the first time, he's staring out the window towards the rolling plains they pass, head on his hoof. The radio is quietly playing vague, local rock to keep them entertained. Zabra doesn't seem to mind it.

"So how did you guys get to me, or even find me?" Ronnie asks suddenly, the idea resurging in his head.

Zabra glances over, humming slightly. It seems putting food in his stomach helped make him a little less confrontational, if only a little.
"Miss Zharris got the address of your station from Mister Banks. Once we determined the best route to take with the Portal staff, we trotted there."

"You... walked the four hour drive to my work? From the portal?" Ronnie repeats, surprised.

"That reaction is why we established a route back that included speedier transportation. I'm aware you humans do not walk as much in your societies, with your... vehicles and transportations. As proven by how my plan of convenience was made redundant by even more sheer convenience." His hoof taps the dash of the car.

"Huh. Well, thanks. The thoughts appreciated." Ronnie shrugs, smiling.

"...You are welcome." Zabra returns quietly, watching out the window.

A small moment of silence returns, as they take a winding bend around a small patch of trees that serve as a windbreak around some of the passing, rural homes.

This time, it's Zabra that breaks the quiet.
"Why does Miss Zharris hold such an interest in you?" He suddenly prompts, shifting in his seat to face Ronnie.

"Dunno."

"You don't know why she likes you?"

"You tried asking her yourself?"

"I have. She sighs and gets distracted thinking about you. It impedes her responsibilities."

"Do you have a problem with it because I'm Human, or because she's distracted from her work? Or is there another reason?"

"I..." Zabra blinks, caught off guard.

"You're her... brother, right?" Ronnie takes a quick glance from the road, meeting Zabra's confused stare.

"... I am, yes." Zabra slowly confirms, surprised.
"Who told you?"

"It's the eyes." Ronnie taps his cheek with a finger, pointing to his own.
"Same color as hers."

"You recall such details after knowing her for a day, four months ago?"

"Your family has very striking eyes is all I can say, really. Hard to forget just how brilliant the hue is. No Human eyes have a hue like that."

"So I noticed. Color-wise, your world and its people are very... dull, compared to our home. Even the Abada and Kelpie come in more colors."

"Yeah, we've got nothing on Equestrians."

"Nopony does, they're the extreme. Studies believe their excessive consumption of sugar and lack of predators has granted them a shift towards more unique colorations."

"Can't decide if that sounds like they're dangerous to eat, or they're bright to attract each-other." Ronnie snorts.

When there's no response, he slowly glances over. Zabra is staring at him, brow raised.

"...You know, like how some species are very colorful as a warning to predators not to eat them? Like frogs?" Ronnie tries to explain.

"...I can see why she felt like talking about her bugs." Zabra finally mutters, shaking his head and looking out the window again. This time, there's the smallest smirk on the edge of his lips. Approval? Amusement, at the least. Ronnie can at least take solace knowing whatever issue Zabra takes with him comes from a brotherly concern of her interests and career, rather than a distaste for humans.

The rest of the drive, until the looming, burgeoning metropolis of the recently-erupted Beetlejak City spills into the horizon, is quiet. But it's without tension, Zabra leaning to mess with the radio, showing muted interest.

Maybe they're finally getting along?

"So, Zabs--"

"Do not call me that."

Not quite yet.

...

"Name?"

"Ronnie Harrelson."

"Identification?"

Ronnie rustled out both his drivers license, and the portal pass that Zabra brought him, sliding them across the counter.

It's kind of hard to miss the portal when you reach Beetlejak. An entire tower has been erected around its breadth entirely covering it from the outside and the city that's growing at an alarming rate around it. They even had an underground parking garage where he can leave his car for the duration of his trip. How nice. The place has numerous guards, and enough staff to make it feel like some kind of government ran airport, where the number of people actually taking the plane didn't even hit a single dozen.

They're at a receptionist desk, his bags currently being searched by a few of the guards, the Zebras being processed just across the way from him at another station that staffs a few ponies.

"Did I need my passport? I've got that, too if you do." Ronnie goes to offer, but they hold up a hand.

"Right, Mister Harrelson... no, since only specific individuals can cross, we just need to identify you. Looks like we've got you here for... a long-term trip to Farasi. We'll have to run you through a few courses regarding interportal representation, but otherwise, we should get you handled shortly." The man behind the counter explains, before pulling out an uncomfortably thick stack of paper from behind the desk, and placing a pen on top of it.

"Fill all this out, then we'll get you sorted. Shouldn't be more than a few hours. And don't worry, it seems like a lot because it's handling both sides. Once you're approved here, and head on through, the only reason they'll stop you is to get you where you're meant to be going." He continues, gesturing past Ronnie towards a group of empty tables and chairs."

"Can I ask what I'm signing?" Ronnie is already picking up the stack that would take his attention for the next several hours, but he was still curious.

"Primarily statements that place you as the sole individual at fault if anything befalls you. Foreign diseases, alterations and effects from magical exposure, and so forth. Oh, and an agreement to testify to your experiences and a full body physical. Very few have gone through the portal multiple times, so the data will be invaluable. Oh, and signing off on your emotional support animal, of course."

Jiggles is currently being tested on a nearby table by a guard wearing rubber gloves, taking a catalogue of his health pre-trip. Jiggles couldn't care less, sprawled out, legs in the air.

"Even the Ponies working on this side?" Ronnie asks, surprised. He expected that those working around the portal might see more frequent use.

"They're on strict one-time trips of no more than a few months, at most a year, until we've absolutely confirmed no long term effects. Once they go back, different Ponies are recruited. Same goes on the other side, but as you can see, that's slowly starting to change now that they're considering longer-term and more frequent trips. And you're one of the ones spearheading that shift, Mister Harrelson."

"I guess nobody tells you that spearheading cultural and scientific shifts comes with a lot of paperwork, huh?" Ronnie jokes, adjusting his grasp on paper-pile-zilla.

The man only smiles, before his attention is taken by one of his Pony coworkers who trot over to ask him something, leaving Ronnie to an egregious amount of reading, signing and information giving that simply will not be included at this time.

He does find distraction in watching the very different treatment the Zebras are going through, though. They're getting measured, tested, spitting in a cup -- must be their physical for heading back? Either way, Zabra doesn't seem the biggest fan of the entire thing, but complies either way. Zar and Zor just seem eager to please, happily glancing between themselves as they dutifully follow each step.

Lumbering his way with the cumbersome pile of paper, Ronnie spends an unnecessary amount of time filling out numerous, often pointless questions. Asking his opinion about ponies, what he thinks of magic... this is less getting his general information, which they're probably just pulling from his governmental files, and an exceedingly lengthy psyche evaluation.

He's gonna be here for a bit.

Back In Equestria, Again

It did take a while. Eventually, finally, after what felt like ages and with a heaping helpful of judgmental stares as they processed his numerous answers... Ronnie was permitted access. His papers were stamped with a very official looking seal, and his portal-pass approved.

With that behind him, the other hurdle was the physical kind, the type that took a toll on the body. Portal travel wasn't for the faint of heart, to say the least. The Zebras, native to this plane and magic in itself, didn't seem too phased about it. Supposedly that's because of the magic already innately coursing their systems helping equalize their insides or whatever the Portal Officer on the Earth side explained, something that was a constant for all of Equestria's creatures, whether they horns or not.

Humans aren't lucky enough to have access to such a thing, if the lack of horns or wings didn't make that painfully obvious, so they didn't make it through the big shimmering portal of raw chaotic magic to another planet/dimension/reality/whatever the classification was, quite as easily. No big health risks, but a vicious bout if what feels like brutal combination vertigo, sea sickness, the wind getting knocked out of you, and a swift kick to the nuts that would leave anyone tired, groggy and regretting your choices.

Overall, a great time.

Just like the first time he and his coworkers came through the portal for Mister Banks event, Ronnie was slumped back on a pony-sized chair, practically spilling out from it as he groans. A pair of Portal-Officer Ponies readily offering sugary food and water, staring at him attentively, apparently quite used to seeing the effects. It'd be a few minutes before he stopped feeling too sick, so he doesn't rush it. Not that he can. Still felt a bit weird being the only one going through it in comparison to his first time, having the other guys to grumble and groan with, his current companions were trotting about without issue.

The attendants were also a lot more bubbly and polite, processing them with a wide smile and an excitable interest in Jiggles, but that might just be a pony thing. This side of the portal seemed a lot less like an airport or governmental building, and more like a... train station. Probably just basing their infrastructure off of what they know, but at least the chairs were comfier. Ronnie sinks in further to the undersized, glorified cushion he'd claimed in his attempt at recovery, chewing on a pack of some kind of sour candy as he's nearly flat on his back at this point.

Hang on... he doesn't feel swarmed by attentive ponies. Something isn't right. Ronnie, for a moment, emerges from his delirium to try and take in his surroundings... and to Ronnie's surprise, the only one looking over him is a familiar, stern-faced Zebra. Zabra had pushed in between the attendant Ponies that were trying to make sure he wasn't going to get sick on their floor, shooed them away and demanded to be the one to ensure his health, taking over the task of getting him back to normal and keeping the insides of his stomach where they belong. The gesture would have been sweet, but Zabra turned out to be a little... forceful in his efforts, startling Ronnie by nearly jamming the entirety of a bottle of water in Ronnie's mouth with his hooves. He still wasn't sure if this was out of sheer obligation to Zharris, or if they'd actually bonded a little bit.

Judging by the face he's making as Ronnie sputters, probably still just obligation.

"Forgot how... bright everything here is." Ronnie idly comments once he's done being waterboarded, sputtering and glancing around at his surroundings as they become clearer. His hand is currently holding back a second water bottle, trying to push it away from himself despite Zabra's pushiness.

"The Equestrians... do love their... colors." Zabra grunts, forcing the bottle closer to Ronnie's mouth.

"I mean, the entire world seems so much more... saturated." Ronnie objects, ducking to the side as he plucks the bottle from Zabra, relenting to have yet another drink under Zabra's expectant glare, but at his own pace.
"Water poisoning is thing for humans, you know." Ronnie bubbles quietly.

"You'll be fine. Drink up." Zabra tsks, glancing back. Zar and Zor are still sorting Ronnie's belongings through this side of the portal, slowly gathering his luggage beside him once the Portal-Ponies have approved of their contents. Everything made it through without issue, including an exasperated Jiggles, who was going through a similar experience as Ronnie. Water, treats, and dry heaving.

"...I did notice your world felt like it lacked a certain... color."

"Weird, isn't it?"

"It is."

"Wonder if that's from the whole magic thing?"

"Perhaps."

...

Ronnie jingles the purse of gold coins in his hand, trying to get over the medieval feeling. The exchange rate of dollar to equestria-buck didn't quite feel right, but he wasn't going to argue about how much in solid gold coins he got handed. Every bit as weirdly heavy as he expected them to be, and there was a pleasant feeling to it. They continue to distract Ronnie, turning one of the 'bits' over in his hands until Zabra's glare has him drop it back in the bag hanging from his belt. Carrying a little leather pouch full of the stuff definitely felt a little odd. Medieval, even. All part of the fun, he supposes, but its already pulling at his pants. How did Ponies manage this?

"No time for souvenirs?" Ronnie jokes, shifting his grip around Jiggles' carrier in his other hand. No coins for Jiggles, but he doesn't really need them.

The moment they got to this side of the portal, the Equestrian side, Zabra had stepped right back up as their guide and would accept no substitutions as trip leader. He seemed far more comfortable being the one to lead the way, even if he'd gone back to being snappier, ordering Zar and Zor around a fair bit. They seem to fall right in, almost outright enjoying the command structure, eager to please.

"No." Zabra retorts simply, leading the others as they trot towards Canterlot's Rail Station. At least Zabra knew where he was going -- though Ronnie misses the vague wandering of months prior that he'd done with Zharris, still fondly and clearly remembering that day. Still, there'd be time to explore. Farasi, and Zharris, was waiting, and there was plenty for her to show him that he didn't know.

"Not a fan of Equestrian goodies?" Ronnie tries prompting, to get something out of Zabra.

"Your bags have already been packed to their optimal limit. If we stop for anything else, it will require another bag to be purchased as well." Zabra again, bluntly shuts his ideas down, a master at being the mud-stuck stick. Unfortunately, Ronnie was a little bit of a shit, especially now that he wasn't responsible for getting them where they were going.

"Even if I wanted to get a gift for... Zharris?" Ronnie counters.

"You already have, if I recall. I remember the book of Earth insects during your bag checking. Nothing you could buy here would compare to what you've brought with you." He explains, which surprises Ronnie somewhat. This time, it hardly sounded like a shutdown, and more like an admittance that what he already got was a good choice. Though that was probably just to keep Ronnie moving.

"She likes bugs that much, huh?"

"You have no idea."

"Not even... stopping for a quick pack of sweets?"

Zabra is quiet for a moment, nearly pausing in his steps.
"...That might compare, but she recently visited Mister Banks to discuss alterations to their shipping routes following a shift in where the Griffonians fish a few weeks prior. She doesn't need any such things brought to her, as she's likely already recently partaken." He tries to justify, but Ronnie has his opening.

"Gonna tell her you said that." Ronnie comments, idly glancing away.

Zabra's pace slows, looking over his shoulder. He's quiet, before looking forward again.

They pass a bakery, the smell of freshly-made pastries wafting through it's open window, an apron-bound pony beating into some fresh dough with a roller visible through the doorway. Ronnie coughs into his fist, throwing expectant, nosy side-eyes at Zabra.

A bead of sweat rolls down Zabra's brow, but they persist in his maintained stubbornness, finding yet another excuse not to stop.
"Nothing here would survive the trip." He quickly explains, picking up the pace.

Ronnie only hums, following as Zor and Zar dutifully trail along with the rest of Ronnie's luggage. Mostly silent they're simply engaged in witnessing the challenge to Zabra's clear-cut structure.

But no matter how stout Zabra was in trying to route their way through Canterlot to avoid any more potential promptings, the Equestrian love for sweets was nigh insurmountable. Not long after deflecting the bakery, one of Canterlot's numerous candy shops sits just to the side, door ajar to invite those who might be passing by. There's a small collection of young ponies inside, excitedly bickering over what to spend their limited bits on. The attention it draws is unavoidable.

Zabra tries to keep going, but a long, exaggerated hum of interest slips from Ronnie, finger tapping his chin. Zabra is already groaning as he braces for the inevitable.
"You know, these might last the long, harrowing trip overseas. Oh well, I'm sure Zharris will understand."

Zabra freezes, face scrunched in a furrowed glare that throws itself Ronnie's way, who innocently glances over.

"Hmm? Something the matter, Zabra?" Ronnie asks, playing innocent. But both know that Zharris' love for sweets, with Ronnie's promise to tattle, has Zabra in a bind.

"...Something small. Get it quick." Zabra slowly relents through gritted teeth, each pronunciation a hiss of unwilling defeat.

"Will do!" Ronnie grins, practically skipping into the candy store. Zor and Zar are about to bound in after him, but a stern hoof stops them right in their tracks.

"Not you. Wait here." Zabra snaps at Zar, about to follow Ronnie in.

"Aw." Zar pouts, ears drooping and head hanging low. Zor waddles over to comfort Zar, the two pouting together.

Zabra does not budge.

...

Light chatter from the crowds around them in one of the many train cars, as the crimson-uniformed attendant passes them by, checking for tickets. Zar snores quietly, while Zor picks through a crossword puzzle, tongue stuck out the side of his mouth in thought.

"So much of your technology is like ours, but... not altered to consider that you have hooves. You just... use it anyway, without fingers." Ronnie mumbles, watching out the window as the vast Equestrian plains fly past, jostling softly on the train seat. Canterlot already grows distant, a place that had such an impact on his life already nearly out of sight. With Zabra sat beside him, Zor and Zar sat across, they're bound to entertain themselves to help the next several hours of train-riding pass.

Lucky for Ronnie, the seats were much bigger, more like couches to account for enough room to fit ponies comfortably and their way of sitting. Ronnie kind of preferred it, honestly. The train cars were shorter and chunkier, to account for the change in seating. Only a few other specklings of guests in the same car as them, though they made up for it by quite excitedly and loudly chatting.

Zabra is content with silence, but present company does not permit this, questions abound thrown his way. And yet, he still answers them, no matter how much he rolls his eyes, huffs, pouts or grumbles.

"I wouldn't know." He says simply, glancing over, watching out the window with Ronnie.
"Our technology makes sense to us. I've heard that Human trains use... engines, to pull their trains?"

Ronnie nods, looking away from the window to meet Zabra's stare. Pull was an odd choice of word.

"Coal, Steam... lots of kinds power lots of vehicles. Do you know what this one uses?" Ronnie asks, pointing forward towards the front of the train, trying to imagine what kind of pony-crafted, hoof-maintained piece of magic-bound machinery keeps this entire thing running.

"Oh, they just pull it." Zabra shrugs.

"...Huh?"

"Equestrian trains are pulled by a team of ponies, typically stallions. It's a physically demanding, but well paying career. Lots of travel." Zabra continues, looking at Ronnie's confusion with his own.
"Which is why I was confused at first at the human creation of the engine, when you already have a species like Ponies on your world. Why your kind haven't simply had them pull the trains is an odd choice to me, but..." Zabra shrugs, like the idea was simple and clearly the better option.

"Are you messing with me?" Ronnie squints.

"I do not enjoy jokes. Comedy is one of my least-appreciated crafts." Zabra tsks, looking down and rustling out a newspaper he purchased on the way to the station.
"Miss Zharris is the one with the sense of humor."

Ronnie is left to consider the implications of just how weird this colorful world is, and how little of it makes sense. Watching Zabra provides no answers, his stern face not even cracking a hint with his words. He's actually serious. What a bold statement.

The rest of the ride eastward is spent imagining just how many ponies it takes to pull a multi-car train like this. Ronnie doesn't ask any more questions, though. The one would be enough to keep him distracted for this length of the trip.

...

They had to move pretty quick once they got off the train in Fillydelphia, as the ferry would be leaving pretty shortly after. No time for sight-seeing, Ronnie jogging with an unbothered Jiggles' carrier in his arms, Zor and Zar managing a mixture of carrying and pulling his luggage, and Zabra leading them up and down each street. Compared to Canterlot, this place actually seemed... well, not quite modern, but more like a late-colonial dockyard town. Heavy on the waterbound infrastructure, and the smell of the sea was strong in the air as comically-era-accurate ponies made their midday way around them.

Zor and Zar excitedly trot past them as the Baltimare docks come into view, offering the beautiful view of a busy port. Various vessels and ships of all sizes are making their way in and out of port, all equally themed for comparative time periods. Some of the ships are actually just sailing ships, something one might see right out of a pirate movie. Others look like those ferries with the big rotary paddles at the back, slowly pushing the ships in and out of port. All the while as they close in towards the docks, dodging sailors and cargo being shifted about, Zabra is adding a new hue of color to his coat to contrast the white and black.

Green.

Not a color Ronnie expected from their proud, veritable trip-leader, and Zabra didn't seem particularly stoked about it either, swalling hard as he tries to keep his eyes forward.

"...Do you get sea-sick or something?" Ronnie leans down, nudging his shoulder to snap him out of it. Zabra flinches at the touch, throwing a frown up at him.

"No." Zabra all-too-quickly retorts, clearing his throat and trotting forward.

"It's okay if you do --"

"I do not." Zabra hisses over his shoulder, hoping that to be the end of it. It is not. Ronnie continues.

" -- loads of people, and probably ponies, get sick on boats."

"I --"

"If you need me to like, hold your mane back while you barf --"

"Ew. No. I--"

"-- I can totally do that for you. I think we're that close, you know?"

Zabra's frown is deeper than it's ever been, glaring a hole into Ronnie so hard he might actually summon a horn out of his head to help him burn one right through him. He sternly waits until Ronnie's trap has ceased it's moving, waiting with suspicion until he's absolutely certain it won't move again.

"No. I do not." Zabra states very, very firmly.

"Sure thing. That's all you had to say." Ronnie shrugs, carrying onward.

A long, pained groan that strains the very patience of Zabra's soul slowly escapes his lungs, and doesn't stop until his hooves are on the deck of their chosen ship. It almost looked like a sloop, though the supplies they were loading on board told of the long journey ahead. With a pair of large billowing sails ready to cast off the wooden ship, a small crowd of a mixed number of Ponies, and a handful of other Zebra's that were likely headed home were all in line, eagerly awaiting the chance to board. There was even a pony that looked like they were made of water, their mane swishing around in the air -- one of those Kelpie's that Zharris talked about?

They file on board, Zabra securing their spots on board as they get settled towards their rooms. Some kind of passenger-ship with plentiful rooms below deck, meaning Ronnie had a few minutes to get situated, banking with Zor. Zar and Zabra had the room beside theirs, and Ronnie spent a few minutes letting Mr. Jiggles stretch his legs, the curious cat getting a good sniff of the room before curling up on the bed for even more sleep.

Once they left port, there wasn't anywhere that Ronnie could really go that would cause trouble that wasn't overboard, so he was mostly left to his own devices. Zor and Zar were exploring every inch that the ship had to offer, while Mr. Jiggles ensured that no magical rats found their way into their quarters. Zabra, however, was nowhere to be seen. Probably talking with the Captain about things, or inserting himself into the more important rooms on the ship.

The journey across the Equus waters westward wasn't as long as Ronnie had been expecting it to be, though he enjoyed the chance to sail. Food wasn't bad either, but it certainly lacked the diversity that Mister Banks party beheld for it's guests. According to the Captain and their ship-wide announcement, the journey to Farasi would take about a week, all in all, if the predicted weather patterns held true. A rather proud looking Pegasus made a few circles while the Captain talked, aptly named their weather scout.

While certainly no party cruise, the curious company kept him entertained all through the journey, even until the distant landscape of an arid coast come to view upon the horizon. Despite the not so great rations they packed, the fellow Zebra passengers still held the proclivity towards certain meat products like Zharris told him, and fresh fish managed to find it's way onto their plates.

Ronnie, leaning against the ship's edge, looks down towards an open window below deck, drawn by an odd noise. Is that a Zebra's head sticking out of a porthole? Looks kind of familiar. And looks like he's getting sick off the side. Huh. Probably not anyone he knows.

Farasi On The Horizon

Leaning against the railings of the vessel as it steers effortlessly through their watery path, Ronnie enjoys the last of the crisp ocean air that accompanies them as their destination nears. The other passengers have much the same idea, a small crowd of Pony, Zebra, and a few outliers crowding around the front of the ship to watch as they close in on the port. Zor and Zar appear beside Ronnie with hardly contained excitement, all three watching as the edges of Farasi slowly become clearer in the coming hours.

After nothing but waves and horizon-spanning sea, the promise of proper land underfoot again is an impending relief. Well, that, and the obvious one that Ronnie can't wait for. Seeing Zharris again. His fingers fidget with themselves as his hands keep busy wringing themselves in a mixture of nervousness and anticipation of seeing her again.

"Where are we landing?" Ronnie asks, glancing between the pair of Zebra that flank each of his sides.

Zar's tail is practically swishing about on the air, clearly a little preoccupied by the thought of seeing whatever is waiting for him at home. Zor glances up, pointing forward across the water, over the railing.

"Djihoofi. Zabra knows what we're doing after we land, but..." Zor glances around looking for the Zebra, whose been out of sight for a significant portion of their waterbound journey.

Their search is cut short, as a third, recognizable and frowning Zebra shoves in between them, practically throwing himself against the railings.

"Miss Zharris is..." Zabra pauses, taking a long, deep breath, likely keeping something from coming up.
"Going to meet us. At the port."

"Really?" Ronnie perks up immediately, standing up.

"Mmmmm." The noise was probably meant to be some kind of affirmation, but Zabra gave up on it partway through, choosing to try and veil his discomfort with a long, winding groan. But Ronnie hardly notices, now excited eyes drifting to the port and the looming land.

The final hour of encroachment feels like it lasts an entire day, watching the crew bustle and run around for their landing preparations, the Captain shouting orders as they near. Then, finally, the ship is guided in along the docks for disembarking.

Unlike the wooden, forest-carved dockyards of Equestria, already unfamiliar sights make themselves clear with what looks like stone-carved piers that were drawn out of the very ground. The ships that sit moored are of thicker, wider builds, almost like the junk ships of old, keeping with the dated design philosophy of this world.

The water besides their ship bubbles, as several Kelpie emerge from it's depths -- the water swirls around them, several surprised gasps erupt from the startled crowd as the ship lurches, being pushed and eased towards their supposed landing. The waters manipulated by the Kelpie as they swim alongside them, rising, falling and shifting with small waves.

Zabra barely stomachs the sudden, unnatural movement, nearly heaving over the side. He manages to keep his mouth shut, though a shade of green never quite leaves him until they actually land.

Mr. Jiggles and his luggage collected from his room, Ronnie feels solid ground underfoot for the first time in a week. Any relief he thinks he feels is nothing compared to Zabra, who takes a long moment to keep all four hooves planted firmly on the ground the moment they get off the boat. Several of the crowd have to walk around him as he steadies his breathing, sighing loudly.

"And you go through this each time you travel to Equestria?" Ronnie asks, waiting beside Zabra.

Zabra glances up, giving Ronnie a look. No words quite yet. He's still a little green, but at least he doesn't look like the last weeks worth of whatever he manages to swallow is threatening to come back up.

"You're dedicated, Zabra, I'll give you that." Ronnie pats the Zebra's back, expecting some kind of rebuff. Instead, Zabra just takes a long, deep breath.

"...Thanks." He grunts, managing to make up some of his lost composure with a puffed out chest.
"This way. Miss Zharris should be waiting just up ahead."

Every time she's mentioned, Ronnie can feel the nervousness bubble up inside again. The excitement, the anticipation of seeing her. Here he was, in another world for a woman he met months ago on a single night, all because they clicked and found comfort in the other during a party that neither of them quite felt at place in.

And she's a half-sized zebra.

He could work around that part, though. Just needed his nerves to steady a bit.

"Coming?" Zabra calls back, noticing Ronnie start to fall behind. Zor and Zar pause, each tilting their head inquisitively.

"Oop -- yep. Lead the way." Ronnie quickly jogs after Zabra, though stops to walk at one of Mr. Jiggles disgruntled meows at being shaken around, earning a few quick apologies from Ronnie.

...

Ronnie nearly loses Zabra in the dock-gathered crowd, between the various Zebra sailors and dockworkers that prepare the vessels, loading and unloading their cargo, excited visitors or returnees being greeted by family or grouping up to prepare for the rest of their trip. Compared to Equestria, it's odd seeing Ponies as the minority here. Zebra clearly make up the largest bulk of the population, and their choice of style is stark. White and black, almost no variation in fur color compared to the wide array of rainbow-like options that the Pony has, besides the odd shift in a browner tone of stripe. Typically shorter, or styled manes, with Mohawks and braids being very common choices. And like how Zharris mentioned, saddlebags and other utility clothing seem to reign Supreme, at least in this area.

For every couple of Zebra, the other races she mentioned pop up here and there -- the Abada, what Ronnie assumes to be Farasi's Unicorns, standing a good head taller than their striped ilk. They're thinner, and they sport two horns, kind of like a thin, angular rhino. They offer a little more color variety between the white and black that populates his view, though their coats are notably less saturated, offering more muted colors. Then there's the Kelpie, who are climbing up the stonework docks with the help of the sailors, the waves practically carrying them up and onto land with large splashes. They offer the most unique appearance out of all the Fatasi denizens that Ronnie has seen so far. Some look more like sea-horses with fins, spindly little wings and more exaggerated facial features, and others with manes of water appearing more like a sharp-mouthed Pony that still has hooves. It looks like there's no uniformity to their species, their colors varying wildly and quite deeply saturated, as if to blend them in with the deep ocean. They seem more comfortable half-dangling into the water as they chat with their coworkers, a few breaking off to guide another vessel on it's way out.

The city beyond the port doesn't lack in variety of sights, either. The buildings of Farasi look to be built out of a mixture if clay and brick, with colorful splashes of paint to break up the mixture of oranges, browns and reds of the brickwork and roads. Numerous overhangs of equally bright cloth hang from roofs and the corners of buildings, offering shade to those passing beneath their breadth. Everything has this elaborate, detailed look to it with engravings and designs placed on every possible avenue. Lattice paneling makes up most windows to provide sightline and shade in one, and every pole-end, roof corner and roof itself hosts some kind of design to differentiate the buildings and give their own flair. Ronnie was probably going to be getting plenty of use out of every patch of shade he could, he's only been here for minutes and he's already starting to sweat. It's hot here, and the weather has him tugging at his shirt collar.

Once he finally breaks free of the crowds, he catches the recognizable sight of his own luggage, held off to the side as a group of four Zebra's speak. Admittedly, it's becoming a little difficult to tell all the Zebra's apart now that there's a wide bulk of them added to the area, but he manages to pick out Zor and Zar as they stand beside his bags, waiting patiently. Zabra and the fourth Zebra exchange a firm, tight hug, giving Ronnie an idea just who that Zebra might be. As Ronnie nears, their conversation becomes more clear against the ambient noise of the docks.

"...am glad to see you well, Zabra. I hope your journey wasn't too tiresome. What of--?" A familiar, feminine voice asks, before she steps around from Zabra, smiling as she sees Ronnie. Of course, Ronnie recognizes her and those brilliantly purple eyes instantly. They practically sparkle as they spot him, the two staring at each-other with dumb, wide smiles that crawl across their faces.

To say she looked vibrant was an understatement, the way she outright shines as she looks at him. She looked almost otherworldly -- which, admittedly, she was -- probably some mix of not having seen her in so long, and the journey to actually reach her. It gave Ronnie an appreciation for the trek she took every time she went to one of Mister Bank's 'business meets'. Rather than the fancy dress he witnessed her in months prior, she looked... well, part of him wants to say casual, but she still looks like she could stand out amongst the fanciest crowds. She's got this off-white sunhat with a plum-colored band around it's base sitting on her head, with little holes for her ears to peek through unhindered past the large, protective brim. Her mane has been carefully done up into a singular, large braid that hangs off her shoulder, her tail braided in a very similar fashion.

The two pause their approach, exchanging a silent stare where neither is quite sure what to say, despite the clear but silent excitement in being in the others presence again. Mere feet away, there isn't a hint of awkwardness about it. Just... trying to figure out what's the right way to greet them. A simple hello?

Finally, Ronnie kneels down, setting the carrier down beside himself, holding his arms out. In an instant, Zharris closes the distance, practically leaping into his arms as her hooves wrap around him in turn. Her hat nearly falls off as she buries her snout into his neck, barely kept in place by one of Ronnie's hands. She takes a long, deep breath, humming in contentment.

"Hey, Zharris. Long time no see." Ronnie whispers, cheek brushing against her soft, shorter fur. She stifles a laugh at his words, holding him closer.

"Long time indeed." She chuckles, still holding him as tightly as one could with hooves.
"I... was a little worried you wouldn't come, I must admit."

"Of course I would." Ronnie retorts, pulling away slightly to look at her face. She sniffles, trying to hide that she's fighting back the start of tears in her eyes.
"It probably took pulling some serious strings to get me here. You know I've been thinking of you each day since we left, right?" Ronnie sweetly affirms, hand to her cheek.

"I know. Just... unfounded worries, I suppose. I'm glad you're here." She sighs, wiping her face with a hoof.

Ronnie can't help but pull her close again, the two locked in a tight hug for quite some time, even ignoring Zabra's attempt at a cough to try and break them up. No dice, they're not rushing this little reunion. Not until Zharris finally pats Ronnie's shoulder to be released, clearing her throat and trying to look presentable again as she adjusts her sunhat.

"Sorry. Needed that." She mutters, getting one final sniffle in before trying to smoothly move things along.
"And this must be the prolific Mr. Jiggles I've heard about?" Zharris crouches down, looking through the grate of the carrier.

A small, poised paw reaches out through a gap in the door grate, batting Zharris' nose.
"O-oh!" She flinches back, surprised.

"Hope it's alright that I brought him, I didn't have anyone to watch him, and I didn't know how long I'd be gone for." He sticks a finger through the bars, wriggling it at Mr. Jiggles. He gets similar treatment, feeling a paw smack at his intrusion.

"Of course. Cats aren't uncommon as a choice of pet around here, I'm sure he'll settle in fine." Zharris affirms, rubbing her snout.
"However... I'm afraid your journey isn't quite over yet." Zharris turns, nodding for Ronnie to follow.

"Oh?" Ronnie asks, standing and lifting the carrier again.

"Miss Zharris' estate is a short distance inland. You--" Zabra goes to add, but Zharris' head whips around the moment he uses a certain word.

"You haven't been calling me Miss Zharris the entire time, have you?" She suddenly cuts in, giving Zabra a look.

"W-well, I..." Zabra stammers, to no avail. Zor and Zar glance between the other, staying to the side.

"I told you to quit it, Zabra. Makes me feel old." She chides, bumping his shoulder with a hoof.
"I'm not having my own sibling call me such, no matter how intent you are on being my right-hoof."

"You know it's best to keep a level of professionalism, Zharris." He tries to argue, but she simply stares at him. Any further attempt for words turn into half-hearted mumbles, before his defiance breaks.
"Sorry." Zabra lowers his head, letting a rare bashfulness slip through -- though Zabra also throws Ronnie a glare as he snorts at the interaction, but can do little about it under Zharris' watchful gaze.

"Now come along, Ronnie. I'm sure you'll love the place." Zharris picks right up, practically hopping into position right beside him. It's a little hard to see her face past the brim of her hat at this angle, but every now and then, Ronnie catches sight of the smile firmly sat on her face -- like the way she keeps bumping into his leg wasn't enough of a sign of how content she was with his presence again.

"Tall doorways?" Ronnie asks hopefully.

"You know it." Zharris grins, a little extra spring in her step.

...

It wasn't actually as far as they made it sound to be. Expecting another connection through train or several hours of some kind of journey, Ronnie was surprised that their additional detour was only a short walk through the city. Being built along the coast meant that Djihoofi itself wasn't built that deep inland, constructed along the water. Cutting through the city in a rather short time took them outside the city gates, and left them emerging onto a road that lead to a small, walled off oasis that bespoke of being Zharris' and Zabra's home. Zharris informed him it was a family estate, passed down to each generation. Zabra was originally the next in line, but he stepped down to allow Zharris to rise as household head, having a better grasp on the logistics of business than him.

Clay walls with the odd post surrounded a collection of palm trees and a natural, sizeable oasis tucked in the savannah grass, one of the last little bastions of comfort before it turned to proper desert far in the distance. A metal gate is slowly open, unlocked by a key pulled from underneath Zharris' hat, as she leads the group inside the grounds.

The estate seems to make full use of the fresh water source within it's walls, a wide variety of flowers and plants growing in variously sized planters and boxes to provide a wide array of color. Large, looming palm trees that lean and sway offer natural shade to them as they pass underneath, while several buildings sit in view. The largest and most obvious is the main estate, sat center stage. Multi-floor with a foundation of brick, it transitions into clay walls with wooden beams and lattice windows, managing a simple but elegant aesthetic. There's a smaller, single-floor and wider building that Zor and Zar seem to look towards, likely the bunks for the workers or whoever they have on site. Finally, tucked behind both and close to one of the walls, is a smaller, squarish building that looks partially submerged in the ground. Maybe that's where she keeps her bugs or something?

There's a few patches of plant between the flowers and such that look akin to cotton and other plants that one might use as material, but they're hardly planted at an industrial scale. Likely for display or personal use, at the most. Ronnie is reminded that Zharris, is in fact some kind of 'Noble' even if Farasi doesn't quite have the same terminology as Equestria, as another Zebra trots towards them as they enter the estate. They're wearing an apron with some dirt smeared on the front, likely in the midst of tending the garden that speckles the yard.

"Welcome back, Miss Zharris." They curtly bow, Zharris returning the gesture.

"Zarina, would you mind getting Zor, Zabra and Zar settled? They've had a long journey, and I'm sure they could use the rest."

"Sister, I don't..." Zabra tries to object, but she only flashes him a knowing smile.

"Zabra, you're still green. Go and rest, you deserve it. I'll take care of things here."

He seems reluctant about it, but considering her description isn't wrong, he relents. Probably putting on a brave face the way he walks slowly and carefully, managing his breath. Zor and Zar are more than happy to trot off, soon leaving Zharris and Ronnie alone in the courtyard, alongside his luggage.

The moment that the others have departed and left them alone, Zharris perks up, turning to Ronnie with a cheeky grin.
"So. How sick was he?"

"Huh?"

"My brother, Zabra. How sick did he get during your journey from Equestria?"

"Uh... well, yeah, he was good for the most part. Barely saw him for the week we were out on the water, though." Ronnie shrugs, though Zharris seems to find this quite amusing.

She snorts, shaking her head.
"Zabra is horrible with seasickness, and is entirely bull-headed about it. I've tried to task him with other... land-orientated duties, but he insists on being the one to handle any and all matters that I can't attend to myself, which included my letter. Speaking of -- sorry I couldn't go get you myself, Ronnie. We've been in the midst of talks with one of the other producers of silk in the region about absorbing their business, and I couldn't justify the multiple-week delay to our negotiations." She explains, standing closely beside him again. "As much as I would have loved to have collected you in-pony."

A playfully unneeded apology, Ronnie smiles down at the striped mare.
"I felt pretty pampered the trip over, so I wouldn't worry about it -- we can call it even, or... something about... how you can make it up to me now that I'm here." Ronnie shrugs, a long sigh escaping him as he leans down to scratch at her back. It's a well-appreciated gesture, and she quickly leans into it.

Though it does little to distract, her keen eyes roaming to his face.
"Glad to hear it, but... are you doing alright?"

Ronnie hadn't quite realized it until now, but his shoulders were feeling pretty heavy.
"Dunno. Sorry, I'm usually better at banter. Think I'm a little too tired."

This garners a sympathetic expression from the Zebra, as she nuzzles against his side, offering comforting words.
"Worry not, you'll find plenty of rest soon. How are you faring in the weather, by the way? Do I need to keep you in the shade?" Ronnie finds a curious hoof poking at his exposed skin, interested in his lack of fur.

Ronnie rubs his arm, reminded he's in more bristley-furred company.
"Uh... yeah, I don't tan that great unless you lather me up in sunscreen. Keep me well-watered and in the shadows, like a plant."

"Such circumstances can be arranged." A content hum from Zharris, who makes no attempt to hide her brimming excitement at his presence, though she doesn't point out which endeavor she'd prefer, choosing to remain playfully coy. Ronnie is kind of surprised he's not matching her excitement, but it's like a wave of exhaustion that culminated over the entire journey has crept up on him, leaving him wanting a quiet, comfortable place to curl up and nap for a bit.

And yet, he can't help but smile at the mare that meets him.
"I appreciate the invitation. And honestly, I'm just happy to see you again. I hope I'm not disappointing you by being... bleh."

She waves away the notion immediately, though his answer seems to please her to no end, the returning smile on her face threatening to stay there for good.
"Please, Ronnie. I'm well aware the tolls that travel has upon the body, and the mind. I've felt exactly the way you've felt many a time, I assure you. Mister Banks was quite excited to hear that I... I suppose the wording would be that I took an interest in somepony, once he found a chance to grill me more about what he walked in on. You know, during our last get-together."

"Oh, I remember all right. That dress has held a firm place in my mind the last few months." Ronnie blatantly admits, the memory having been quite the pleasant thought over their time apart.

"The dress... or the swimsuit?" Zharris counters, throwing her own teasing expression his way.

Ronnie didn't really have an answer for that one.
"...Might need to see you in it again to help jog my memory."

"Hmph." She huffs, bemused at his pointed flirting.
"I suppose I could dig that old thing out... or I could show you the designs I've been working on over the last few months?"

"Any chance I could say both?" Ronnie tries, Zharris giving him a look.

"Maybe. But let's get you to rest first. There's plenty of days ahead." She trots ahead, towards the estate's awaiting door.

"Speaking of... might be a bit of a dumb question, but would you mind hearing it out?" Ronnie brings up, causing Zharris to pause for a moment.

"Of course. What's on your mind, Ronnie?"

The walls of the estate and the plentiful plant life help the place feel a little more private, even if they are just standing out in the open of the courtyard, feet away from the main buildings door. Bit of a dumb question, but he felt like it was something they needed to talk about at some point, considering the oddity of their relationship.
"What... are we, exactly? I just want to make sure we both have the same... expectations. I mean, the interest in each other is as obvious as I'd hope, but our last meeting definitely bordered on... very physically flirtatious, even if it overstepped a boundary or two. So... what are those boundaries? What's the plan?"

Zharris blinks a few times, processing the bluntness of the question. Then a hoof covers her mouth, hiding the chuckle that slips out of her, throwing him a playful look.
"Perhaps not the most graceful approach of the topic, but I can understand your concern. Even when we tried to talk about it last time, we weren't exactly blunt. Not to mention the hassle of sending any letters until now. Well, I certainly didn't have you travel all that way just to... hang out and chat, Ronnie. I fully intend to properly court you, in the ways that are supported by Farasian culture. I quite enjoyed our time together, and I appreciate your consideration for my... unfortunately messy approach to what I thought I wanted that night."

"Huh. Where I'm from, it's usually the guys that handle the courting." Ronnie mumbles, trying to hide the embarrassment on his face. Bit of a difference between hard flirting at a fairly promiscuous party, and being bluntly told that he's about to be pursued.

"We don't have such limitations here. The interested party pursues and courts the one they're interested in. Though, outright staying at one's estate could be considered... bold, I'd hardly have it any other way. Can't have you coming all this way just for a dinner date or the like, just to spend a week trekking back. Zabra would hardly survive such an arrangement." She hums, tilting her head. That look almost seems to be turning cheeky, realizing she might have the opportunity to put him on the back-hoof.
"You are comfortable with the arrangements, are you not? I've taken your choice to respond to my letter with your presence rather than with a returned parchment that you're still interested in what we talked about prior, but I haven't actually checked if you're alright staying... here. With me."

"You did say you were going to keep one of us humans from that party, so I've been prepared for that aspect since you said it. Seems like an illustrious gig, so I think I can put up with things... at least for a time." Ronnie jokes, making his way up the estate steps.

"Unfortunately for you, Mister Harrelson, I've found myself smitten with you following our little meeting. I'm afraid you're securely trapped in my hooved clutches, doomed to a life of affection and pampering." Zharris spins around in front of him, motioning for him to lower himself. Ronnie complies, leaning against his knees -- and Zharris hops up, planting a quick kiss against his face, before bumping the estate door open, leading him through.

"Woe is me. A tragedy for the ages." Ronnie jokes, following her inside.

The inside of the estate is much cooler than the outside, something Zharris explains as what could be best described as a ventilation system through the building, with some kind of cold-chaeged crystal that was imported from the Crystal Empire. Something of a common import, they were readily available and used in many a household to provide relief from the outside heat. Tile floors and pillars provide and fairly grand view to the entryway hall, that splits off in numerous directions with a variety of doors all leading deeper into the bowels of the building. A large staircase sits directly in the middle, it's wide steps meant for hooves as it leads up to the second floor, where a chandelier hangs overhead of it all. Compared to the extravagant over-the-top styling of Mister Banks home, the use of carefully carved sandstone and clay brickwork provides a far different, but fairly cozy aesthetic to work with the decor. Vases and pottery are the primary decoration, though there are several tapestries and carpets that are proudly displayed, while wood is used more as an accent, like with the banisters that line the steps.

"Did you make these? Ronnie tries asking, nodding towards one of the closer, hanging woven displays. It depicts a coastal sunset, a single zebra stood on the edge of the waters as an orange sunlight bathes the entire scene. It'd like a painting, but without brushstrokes.

"Astute eye. Anything one could spin from a wheel or stick or sew, has been made by yours truly." Zharris proudly comments.
"Worry not, my innate pride will gladly show them off to you later. For now, I push down the urges to show off my work and gain your approval so that you might get some rest."

Most of the work, at least from what Ronnie can gleam from a passing glance as Zharris continues to nudge him forward, seems to cover a variety of themes. Landscapes, groups, locations, individuals, buildings. It's genuinely impressive, as if each piece was drawing upon an entirely different source of inspiration. The way she made each of them seems to have some variety, as well. The thickness of the material used, the way it was weaved together, using multiple colors or differing types, or even one where it was all one single color, the only way to figure the picture from the direction that she wove it. Her home was as much a display for her personal works as it was an abode, and every corner or new direction Ronnie looked, there was another piece waiting to be viewed, all set for presentation.

A quick glance at Zharris affirms that while she's trying to do the polite, kind thing and urge him to rest... there's an unmistakable tinge of pride in the way she holds her head, watching him as he observes the culmination of her efforts.

"You're very talented, Zharris. This is..." Ronnie starts, but Zharris shush him.

"Save your words for later, Ronnie. I'm afraid if you start complimenting me now, we'll never make it to your lodgings, and I'll just keep you here to feed my ego with your affirmations." Zharris takes to the stairs, leading him up towards the second floor.
"Most of the first floor is workshops and the like, minus the kitchen. The bedrooms are up here -- and worry not. Yours is quite close to mine, just up the hall. Oh -- and just leave your luggage here, I'll make sure it finds it's way to your room."

Ronnie can't help but laugh quietly to himself, wondering just how long a separated sleeping arrangement was going to last.
"So, whose going to visit who in the middle of the night?"

Something Zharris picks up on quite quickly, throwing him a look over her shoulder. Her face scrunches at him.
"Typically, Farasian couples wait until they are wed to share a bed."

"And yet we..."

"I meant sharing a bed in the carnal sense."

"Ah. I actually meant in the not-so-carnal sense."

"Hm." Zharris pauses, tapping her chin. "Not quite the Farasian way, but... we're already making some alterations to the approach, I suppose."

"And we're not exactly starting at stage one, considering how the day we first met went." Ronnie points out, reminding Zharris of the proximity that they spent their night together.

Zharris' tail flicks.
"... Correct. What are you proposing?"

"My bed is always open if you find yourself having trouble sleeping? I don't want to intrude on your private space, but I certainly wouldn't mind some company to help make the bed feel less empty."

Ronnie is pretty sure she's just trying to play up how much she's actually considering it, the way Zharris' tail swishes around behind her despite her various hmms and hums. Probably something about the polite limits Farasian courting that she's trying to justify breaking.

Their playfulness is interrupted by the only one who yet remains in the pair's presence, awaiting the chance to escape his confines with a dwindling patience

"Meow." Is quietly uttered from the carrier, carrying with surprising echo through the open hall.

"Oh, he's probably hungry." Ronnie notes, glancing into the carrier. A raised paw forewarns that Ronnie might share a similar fate to Zharris' nose if he gets any closer.

"As I'm sure you are, too. I'm excited to show you Farasian cuisine, I believe it's not too distant from Earth foods. I've done a little research. Let'sget you and Mr.Jiggles something quick to eat? You might rest better on a full stomach. I'll have something brought to the room after." Zharris explains, still leading the way.

Taking a right from the top of the stairs, Ronnie notices the windows here are like the ones he saw on the buildings by the docks. Rather than glass, patterned lattice offers both a view, and some protection from the outside sunlight, all while still adding to the fanciful decor. Here, the halls become smaller, as do the decorations, their purpose shifting away from a grand entry display. Lower ceilings, though thankfully still well above Ronnie's head and then some.

She passes a few doors, before they round out at the end of the hall.
"This one is mine -- easy to remember since it's at the end of the hall, here. And this one..." She trots to one of the adjacent doors, bumping it open and standing aside. She outright stares, trying to gauge if he needs to duck when entering. Ronnie does, but not by much.

Ronnie has a bit of a hard time believing this is supposed to be where he's sleeping. The room itself is almost as big as his apartment, and in fact, almost looks just like one. A glance back to Zharris confirms this may have been intentional, as she looks like she's absolutely brimming with excitement, waiting for his reaction.

The room looks like if someone who had only ever been told what an apartment looks like had to put one together. It's adorably sweet that she clearly tried so hard to appease him, even without knowing if he'd come or not, even if she didn't quite hit the mark.

There's a pretty large couch that looks oddly well made right in the middle of the room, but instead of a coffee table facing it, it's an entire dinner table with several chairs. There's no television or TV stand, which tracks considering their lack of that technology. Instead, opposite of the couch, is a little stand with a record player. Probably the best substitution she could figure with what she had on hand. Or on hoof. Opposite of the little living room is a kitchen, without any of the appliances. Or, mostly. There's counters, cupboards, and what looks like a minifridge where one might usually go.

"I figured you might not do too well in this weather, so I wanted to assure you had access to something cold to drink. Just in case." Zharris helpfully adds when she catches his gaze wandering over, adding commentary to his viewing. It's certainly an appreciated gesture, though Ronnie wonders just how much that little number might have costed.

The last part of the room is the only part he'd been expecting, and even that sidesteps his expectations. The bed that occupies the back corner if the room is massive, easily larger than any of Earth's king-sized options. Overkill is the first word that comes to Ronnie's mind, as he sets Mr. Jiggles carrier against the egregiously plush sheets, Ronnie watching his cat slowly sink in like bedsheet-bound quicksand.

"This is..." Ronnie goes to start, realizing that if he laid across the entire thing, all limbs splayed out, he still wouldn't be able to touch any of the edges.
"Think i fell asleep in this thing, I might never make my way out of it."

"I firmly remembered how little room was in the standard Equestrian bed. I wanted to ensure that we wouldn't encounter such an issue." Zharris trots over beside him, eating up his reaction to her little surprise.

"We?" Ronnie parrots, catching Zharris by surprise.

"Ah." Zharris glances away.

"Some-pony has been planning for us to bunk together since the start."

"An unfounded and outrageous accusation, Mister Harrelson."

"If we go to your room and I find that this bed is better than yours..."

Zharris bites her lip, not gracing the accusation with an answer -- which Ronnie finds to be plenty an answer on it's own.

"Still, pretty amazing." Ronnie muses, trying not to bring up how it's almost certain that all of this cost Zharris a pretty penny. Seems she's the type to show affection through gift-giving.
"All this for little old me?"

"A welcoming gift, and the results of my desire to assure you're as comfortable as you can be. You've crossed a world for... well, me. I only hope to match that dedication." Zharris explains, stepping closer to Ronnie, looking up at him.

"I think being pampered at a pretty mare's house hardly counts as something worth this degree of pampering." Ronnie sits in the edge of the bed, sinking down closer to Zharris' level.

"Well, I firmly disagree." She retorts, the fur of her chest ruffling as she presses herself against Ronnie's knees, closing the distance completely.

"You just want a trophy boyfriend, don't you?" Ronnie prods, leaning closer.

"And I thought you said you were too tired for banter." Her ear flicks, head tilted up to stare at his face as he closes in.

"I'd hate to disappoint after all you've done for me."

The two lean closer and closer, a soft flush appearing on each of their cheeks as they're but inches away from the other. Ronnie has forgotten just how exotically alluring this Zebra was, how she stole his gaze even when she was dressed for comfort. Her gaze softens, eyes half closed as their lips approach --

"Mrrow." An expectant, interrupting noise from the carrier, making them both flinch and interrupting the pair.

"Right, food." Zharris quickly recovers, taking a step back.
"Get settled, I'll be back with something for you two to eat. And leave your luggage to me, alright?"

"You sure? I don't mind --"

"Ah-ah. Sit and shush. You're mine now, Ronnie. Let me." Zharris cuts him off, tsking and waving a hoof. In the same moment, she's slipping out the door, leaving Ronnie to listen to the sounds of her hooves against the distant halls.

... This bed was seriously comfortable. Should probably let Mr. Jiggles out to explore and stretch his legs, though.

...

Zharris returns a short while later, the same Zebra that had been wearing the dirt-covered apron lugging the last bag of Ronnie's belongings to his door, while Zharris carefully carries a small covered tray, supported by small ropes on each corner that she hangs onto their connecting piece with her mouth.

"Thank you, Zarina." Zharris thanks them setting the tray down for the moment. The other Zebra departs, while Zharris opens the door into Ronnie's room, nudging it open with a leg, grabbing the tray again.

"Ronnie? I had them make something that I think you'll... Ronnie? Oh--" She pauses in the doorway.

Ronnie is laid out across the bed, one arm behind his head, snoring softly. A freed Mr. Jiggles is curled up on one of the pillows, tail swishing about. When Zharris appears, Mr. Jiggles promptly hops off the bed, strutting over and staring up at her, licking his lips.

Zharris, as quiet as she can, sets aside a little bowl that Mr. Jiggles promptly ravages. She closes the door behind herself, setting the tray aside on the psuedo-kitchen's counters, before standing at the side of the bed, watching him.

As Ronnie remains asleep, Zharris watching the rising and falling of his chest, there's a not-so-quiet endeavor from the striped mare. The bed creaks ever so slightly as she climbs up and onto the mattress beside Ronnie, doing her best not to disturb him as she gets settled at his side. She seems to be contemplating something under her breath, fidgeting in the sheets.

Ronnie, not quite asleep yet and drawn from slipping away by the shifting of the oversized bed, stirs slightly. It's all speculation thanks to his firmly-shut eyes, but Ronnie has the feeling she might be up to something.

And sure enough, her mumbled machinations rear their head as she makes her move. Ronnie can feel her shuffle across the mattress towards him...

...And the odd sensation of a hoof gently pressing against his forehead, sliding back through his hair.

"I... think this is how he does it." Ronnie can hear Zharris mutters to herself -- cracking open an eye ever so slightly reveals a confounded, but persistent Zharris that sits hunched over him. One of her hooves slowly attempts to 'pet' him, while the other hangs in the air, not quite sure what to do with it. It's not like the concept is foreign to them, but it's hard to match the way that Ronnie had petted her.

"Mm." Ronnie hums, reaching out with both arms. A startled Zharris can hardly make a noise, as Ronnie pulls her in closely against himself, hugging her tightly against his chest.

"Oof--Ronnie?!" Zharris squeaks, glancing about. She's held tightly against him, as Ronnie curls around her, nestling in against the blankets. With how warm it is outside, and how cool it is inside, it's the perfect equilibrium for a nap atop the blankets.

She prods whatever part of him she can reach with her restrained hooves, harshly whispering his name.
"Ronnie. Ronnie?"

Eventually realizing that either Ronnie is actually asleep and isn't waking up anytime soon, or he's not going to respond nor release her, Zharris resigns herself to remaining firmly and comfortably stuck. She's glad she spent big on the better bed. Relegating herself to the position she's found herself in entirely of her own construction, Zharris settles in, deciding to get a head start on the bonuses of keeping a human around. She'd forgotten just how warm he is, and before long, she's latched onto him tighter than he is to her, sighing contently.

Mr. Jiggles watches judgingly from the pillow, before helping himself to the rest of the ignored tray.

Epilogue

Djihoofi, Farasi | Zharris' Estate, Three Months After Ronnie's Arrival

Hidden under the protective, decorative awning of the second floor balcony, the pair watch as the bleak, gray sky above let's free an absolute torrent of water that cascades onto the lands around them. Several of the businesses inside the city of Djihoofi, visible beyond the walls of Zharris' estate, have shut down for the day to account for the weather. Zharris sits comfortably on one of the balcony chairs, watching the water dribble and run over the edges and corners of her home. Ronnie seems more interested in the protective measures that the other Zebra's erected over the various garden plots, to divert some of the storm. Compared to his usual dress, Ronnie sits cross-legged on the floor beside Zharris, wearing something more similar to an old Greek toga than the clothes he arrived in.

"When you said it rained here, you weren't kidding." Ronnie whistles, putting extra emphasis on the word. Raining hardly felt like the right descriptor with the way it was coming down. More like pouring. Zharris said it was just rain but this felt like some serious weather.

"We lack the commonplace, managed weather patterns of Equestria. Here, rain comes in one long barrage upon the land, before we hardly see it again for some time." Zharris explains, quietly sipping her morning drink. Something warm, to keep the body from this humid, wet day.

"What's the plan, then?" Enjoy the weather, or spend the hours away from being wet, hidden away in your workshop?" Ronnie asks, a hand slowly brushing up and down Zharris' back digging through her bristly fur. Zharris hums at the contact, making no effort to hide her enjoyment of the touch.

"The rains are typically a... time of holiday for Farasi." Zharris continues, though she takes a few pauses to really enjoy when he gets to one of the itchier parts of her back. Ever since Ronnie started staying with her, she's begun wearing more open-backed dresses and clothes that allow for easier, down-from-above scratching.
"So the shop in Djihoofi is closed until the weather clears. I may poke at a design or two I have on my table, but... I do enjoy the weather. I may simply watch it all with a hot drink in hoof."

"Sounds like a good time to me. What's with the... garden stuff?" Ronnie nods down to one of the garden plots below, where Zor jogs about underneath a hefty raincoat, double-checking on the gardens and their protective, temporary covers.

"Not all of our plants are meant for Farasi's natural heavy, rare rains. Some are watered regularly from our reserves, and would suffer or drown in this weather. So, we set out our catchers to divert the rains to our barrels, to restock our reserves. It's as bountiful a time for us as it is for the plants."

"Huh. Clever."

"Isn't it? Zor came up with the design, actually. Runs the water into large barrels designed to be tipped and rolled, easily stored behind the estate in storage. He's actually patenting the design and is looking to begin leasing it outside, to Djihoofi and other settlements." There's obvious pride in her voice, likely having had some part in the design process, or just proud of one of her workers to be so creatively unbound.

"Did he really? Huh."

"He's quite capable when it comes to woodworking. We often import various lumber types for him to experiment with."

"What about Zar? Does he get up to anything?"

"Believe it or not, he's working on his own line of cologne."

"Seriously?"

"Completely. Right now, he's experimenting on a mixture between the pheromones of the desert twig-hopper, and the east-valley light bloom. Both very potent sources of smell, but also distinct."

"Know anything about the light bloom?"

"Afraid not."

"...What about the twig-hopper?" Ronnie asks, well aware of what he's just steered himself into. Zharris ears flicker as she spins about, looking at him.

"Oh, absolutely! I actually procured the specimens that he extracts his materials from. They typically grow in the more forested regions, which means they prefer being near more humid, watery locations..." Zharris begins, setting her drink aside and joining Ronnie on the floor, eagerly diving into her knowledge of the creature.

She's adorable when she gets this excited. A good chunk of the rainy morning is spent listening to Zharris explain, what basically rounds out to be, a stinky stick bug.

And Ronnie wouldn't have it any other way, watching her sheer excitement for these topics. Threw him pretty good when he found out the Silk Wyrms they kept under the estate weren't Silk Worms, but it was just another footnote in her insectid fascination.

Djihoofi, Farasi | The Djihoofi Formal Attendancy, A Local Fundraiser For A Historical Restoration, Six Months After Ronnie's Arrival

Late into the evening, deep in the bowels of Djihoofi, one of the local councilmembers hosted an event for the restoration of one of Djihoofi's oldest buildings, which was threatening to crumble with time. A good chunk and a wide variety of the population was present at this large function, with numerous tables and staff serving snacks and drinks as candles fought back the looming night.

"Miles less promiscuous than one of Mister Banks affairs." Ronnie quietly comments into a glass of something sweet-smelling, tugging at the recreation of an Earth-styled tuxedo. Zharris had taken her own unique spin on the design, and while familiar, was a little snug in a few too many places for Ronnie's preference. Unfortunately for him, that was entirely Zharris' preference, who hasn't taken her eyes off of him the entire function. She did work hard on it, after all. Might as well let her have her fun.
"Though... not quite as much flair. Is it weird if I kind of miss his style of partying?"

"Zebra culture is much more strict about such things. It is generally frowned upon to engage in such activities in a lofty setting such as this, not to mention an entire cultural stigma about getting up to anything before marriage. Also, this is a fundraiser. I fear ponies getting up to such a thing at such a public event would be a cause for concern." Zharris explains, having already set her own drink back down some time ago, not quite interested in it. Unlike the eye-catching golden dress she wore the first time that they met, this time, she was fancied up in an all-purple gown that only had a single shoulder strap, the dress itself long enough to trail behind her, color-matched to the eyeliner and lipstick that she wore, and to the pocket square on his chest.
"...Truthfully, I find myself agreeing. Their choice of treats isn't quite up to snuff this year, and there's a blandness to the whole thing. Likely their first time hosting an event of this scale."

"Really? I think there's a few places on Earth that practice the same thing, but that's a little surprising to hear. The promiscuity thing, not the treats. I'd kill for a cookie right now." Ronnie comments, watching the other Zebra's, all fancies up in their own regard, chat and discuss the topic at hand. It felt much more formal, and somehow, managed to make him feel even more out of place than Mister Bank's party.

"How so?" Zharris leans against the table they're sat at, already tuning out the rest of the function. Her hoof is idly kicking in the air, bored and welcoming the distraction.

"It's a bit of an awkward comparison, but Ponies and Zebra and such are kind of a mix of Humans and Horses." Ronnie shifts to face Zharris, throwing out his opening idea.

"Right, I've heard about such a species on your planet. Most similar in build to Saddle Arabians, though they don't share our intellect." Zharris nods, well aware of the amusing similarities between their cultures.

"Right. And they have a habit of herding. Is that a thing here?"

"For Equestrians, primarily. There's something of a cultural schism, where they argue a larger percentile of the population is female, thus requiring herds, though some prefer monogamy. Not sure if that research has found a resolute answer yet, actually. Been some time since I looked into it. There's, of course, a fringe case here or there, but primarily, Zebra culture heavily prefers monogamy. The result of ancient times and a different mindset, where a tyrannical ruler overplayed his hoof, and the uprising that ensued stamped on some rather overzealous ideals in that regard, resulting in the cultural inclinations we have today."

"Oh, I've heard about that kind of stuff. Some old Earth king tried to enact rules where they got to lay with the wife on the wedding day, or something." Ronnie nods, remembering an old story he'd heard. Might've just been fiction. He can't quite remember.

"...That's essentially exactly what happened here. Huh. Our kind are weirdly interlinked, are they not?" Zharris leans on her hoof, huffing to herself in amusement.

"Apparently so. Wonder if that's just something inevitable that a person in power tries at some point." Ronnie crosses his arms, leaning closer.

"Power does strange things to ones perception and decision making. But why the questions? Curiosity? Or are you trying to add another set of stripes to our bedroom?" Zharris teases, well aware of the answer.

"Yeah, Zor just gets me so hot and bothered, you know? The way his stripe just stripe all over the place." Ronnie snorts, tugging at his collar. Zharris smacks his arm, tsking at him.

"Oh, leave poor Zor out of this." She scolds, but Ronnie's laughter persists.

"I joke, but 'poor Zor'? You know he's actually dating?"

"He's what?" Zharris blinks several times, apparent news to her.

"He keeps going down to the docks, and I wasn't up to much, so I followed him last week. Turns out he's getting friendly with one of the Kelpie that work the docks. You know, bringing the ships in and out of port and stuff."

"Is he really now? Well, I'm happy for him. Kelpie are a... unique experience."

"More unique then dating a human?" Ronnie raises a brow, despite Zharris nodding.

"Truthfully, it might compare. Don't take that as a slight, Ronnie, you're very special, I assure you --"

"You don't need to patronize me, Zharris."

"-- it might not be as rare, but it certainly is tacked with it's own hurdles. The obvious first. The reliance on water, the song..." Zharris starts listing, counting on her hoof as if she had fingers.

"Song? I thought that whole singing thing was Sirens." Ronnie cuts in, confused.

Zharris wiggles a hoof around, making her best attempt at a so-so expression.
"A little overlap between their species, but some Kelpie breeds have access to song that can alter mindstates. Outlawed to use against another without consent, obviously, but it leads to some judgement towards interspecies relations with them, some ponies assuming they'll naturally and accidentally use their voice, if not outright choosing to."

"Huh. Sounds rough, being judged for that kind of thing. Can't help it if you're born with it, you know?"

"Do you think a Kelpie and a Zebra could be happy, Ronnie?" She suddenly asks, pressing a hoof against his chest.

Ronnie purses his lips, considering the question for a moment. He decides joking is the best angle.
"... If a Zebra is into a Kelpie, they're probably into being controlled by that song, if I'm going to be blunt about it. Part of the appeal or something. Probably the same reason why you're into me, you know. Your kink for hands and all that."

She gives him a challenging look, as if surprised he'd dare try to embarrass her at a public function, quick on the snap-back.
"What if we added a Kelpie to our little number?" Zharris teases, wriggling closer, giving him a cheeky look.
"Sing us some songs, join us in the bath? Perhaps I've lost my... exotic appeal, now that you're surrounded by Zebra's." She adds, bottom lip pouting.

"Alright, that's enough." Ronnie rolls his eyes, ignoring Zharris' giggle.
"Just asking questions. I'm more than pleased with our current arrangement."

"Just teasing you, Ronnie. Unfortunately for you, I'm quite possessive. Actually try to include somepony else, and i'll kill you." She states bluntly, yet sweetly, patting him on the leg before turning her attention back to her drink, watching a distant discussion between patrons.

"...Nice." Ronnie mumbles, scooting his chair a little closer, feeling a touch hot under the collar. He feels a playful hoof nudge his leg under the table, the pair enjoying the rest of the relatively tame evening.

Djihoofi, Farasi | Zharris' Estate, One Year After Ronnie's Arrival

A long wolf-whistle accompanies the sweaty Ronnie on his fifteenth lap of the estate grounds, his jogging companion beside him groaning and rolling his eyes.

"There he goes!" The distant, teasing voice of Zharris calls out from the balcony, leaning on it's edge as she watches with supportive amusement.

Ronnie, shirtless and in shorts, slicked with sweat from the sun bearing down on his bare skin. He was getting used to the weather, but plenty of shade and water, perhaps even a bath called for him right after this. Yet, the whistle wasn't quite meant for him, but the panting Zebra that kept pace with him.

Originally, Zabra held himself above such routine, believing his line of work to keep him fit enough. In a playful challenge, Zharris set her brother up against her fiance, for a fun little bit of sport. The expectations were already obvious, with Zebra and Ponykind having a fairly large advantage in most physical forms of sport.

Until Zabra lost in both an endurance race, and an extended weight-pull against Ronnie, leaving the proud Zebra flabbergasted. Turns out, Ronnie never quite gave up on his workout routine -- a mixture of habit, and a small enjoyment of feeling like eye-candy each time he passed his doting host. He couldn't help it, he enjoyed the attention. A firefighter in his prime isn't so easily bested, something Zabra over-estimated while believing Ronnie to be little more than a new centerpiece in the estate.

While that last part might be debatable with how she likes to show him off to company, Zabra's loss had sent him and his confidence reeling.

About a week later, and without asking Ronnie found he had a companion for each of his morning workouts. Zabra had made the resolution to improve himself, no longer content with his current stature. He was definitely more out of shape than he had first expected, and the second most brutal part of it all, besides the obvious physical toll, was his sisters incessant cheering and involvement, simply happy the two had something new to bond about.

In reality, Zabra just needed someone to gleam the proper methods off of, but Ronnie didn't mind.

Ronnie gives a playful wave to Zharris, as Zabra groans.
"How many more laps...?"

"There's a real nice breeze today. I was thinking about five or six more. You still up for that?" Ronnie asks. No answer, but Zabra still keeps up with him, even as he rounds the wall for the umpteenth time.

They pass Zor and Zarina as they tend to one of the gardens -- while Zabra might tolerate Zharris' involvement, Zor's attempt at a cheer quickly earns him a glare from the panting Zabra.

Djihoofi, Farasi | Zharris' Estate, Two Years After Ronnie's Arrival

"What about this one?" She calls out, trotting out from behind the wall shed been hidden behind.

No matter how many times it happened, it was still one of Ronnie's favorite ways to pass the time. Tucked away inside Zharris' workshop, sat comfortably on a chair in the late and quiet hours of the evening, where Zharris sought his insight on some of her more recent designs that she'd been working through.

Inevitably, it always turned into a messy flirtfest.

Zharris stands in the middle of her workspace between the many tables that host her variety of tools, taking a quaint pose as she shows off a frilly, multi-layered dress that slips between several different shades of green, with each outer layer getting lighter than the shade beneath it. It leaves a circular hole around the barrel, focusing a design around the rest of the body and drawing the eye to the length of the dress that trails behind.

"How'd you get it to layer like that?" Ronnie asks, watching his fiance spin around to show off each of the angles.

"What, these?" Zharris hums as if surprised by the placement of his attention. She makes a not-so-subtle flair with her hips to accentuate the back part of the dress, slowly strutting between the work-tables towards him.

"Not sure. Might need a closer look." Ronnie leans back with his hands on his lap, watching -- though the folds are hardly what he's watching. Each carefully placed hoofstep, one in front of the other, as she closes the distance.

"Hm... a few pinches, a few pins, you'd be surprised what these hooves can do, Mister Harrelson. Just imagine the entire ensemble, with complimenting makeup... I was thinking of doing an elaborate bow that ties into the mane for this one, and wearing it to that upcoming spring festival." She explains, pausing in front of him to repeat her movements -- much, much slower this time.

Ronnie makes his admiration vocal, humming in agreement.
"Where do you think the bow will sit?" He asks, a hand slowly reach out to trail against the base of her neck, his fingers carefully tracing through her fur and into her mane.
"Here, lower and at the bottom? Or," He brings his hand upwards, eliciting a long, pleased sigh from Zharris as he works his way up between her ears.
"Here?"

"Buck the bow, Ronnie, just keep petting right there. I've got an itch." She tsks, leaning into him. Ronnie nearly snort-laughs, pulling the mare closer as he scratches into her fur.

"Sure thing, Zharris. It's a gorgeous dress, though. Never expected green to be one of your colors." Ronnie comments, enjoying Zharris' expressions.

Even a few years in now, and he's still figuring all the spots she likes a good scratch.

"Neither did I, but Zabra found someone who could source green dye at a reasonable price, and I had to try it on something. Felt appropriately spring time."

"What event is coming up again?"

"The Spring Revival. You remember last years." Zharris reminds, finally stepping away and shaking her mane to a more manageable state.

"Where they tried to plant that tree they got from Equestria and it died?" Ronnie chuckles, remembering the absolute disaster that it was last time. An attempted outreach between nations that wound up going quite poorly.

"The very same. Apparently, they're planting a cactus this time." Zharris notes, patting down the dress and giving it a final glance-over.

"Smart." A short nod from Ronnie as he settles back in.

"So... next dress?" Zharris perks up giving Ronnie a playful look.

"Absolutely. Think we'll actually get through them all?"

"Oh, absolutely not. You're not going to be able to keep your hands off this next one." Zharris slyly warns, grinning as she ducks back out of sight.

Hoo boy.