Close Bonds: Chapter Twenty-Six

“So... your mom?”

“Shut up, Ivan!”

“I mean, it's not necessarily a bad plan. It's just that I thought you might have had something else in mind, like getting a job, or – ”

“You don't think I thought of that?” Rainbow snaps at you. “This is a temporary solution, Ivan. I'm probably not going to find a job right away, especially with my reputation, so I'm getting help from the old hag for the time being.”

Old hag? “I'm guessing you're not on the best terms with your mother...”

Rainbow rolls her eyes. “I wonder what gave you that idea.” She signs the letter she's drafting, then prepares to tuck it away into an envelope.

“Woah, woah, wait,” you say, watching her fold the letter up.

She puts her hoof down on the paper rather forcefully. “What?”

“Let me see what you wrote.”

She furrows her brows. “Why do you need to see it? You think I can't write a letter?”

You tug on the corner of the letter, but her hoof remains planted where it is. “Just making sure what you're asking for is what we want. What if you didn't ask for enough bits?”

“I didn't even specify an amount. You don't just demand bits from somepony in the first few letters, Ivan.”

“Really? Because you can do it in the first one if you talk to them frequently.”

“Yeah, well, I haven't talked to either of my parents in years. So where does that put us?”

“Look,” you deadpan, tugging on the letter again, “can I just see what you wrote?”

She doesn't budge, instead opting to glare at you.

“Please, Dash?”

She just continues to stare, never breaking eye contact with you. Finally, ever so slightly, she lifts her hoof.

You gently slide the letter out. You pick it up, unfold it, and turn it over to see what's been written.

Dear Mom,

Hey. How have you and Dad been? Can you say hi to him for me? That would be nice. Anyway, it's just like you said. I'm nearly broke, I have no job, and I'm kind of a loser now. You win. And now, just like you said, I've come crawling back. Do you think you could help me out here? Thanks.

Your daughter,
Rainbow Dash

“Yeah. Um...” You read over it again. “Maybe you could start by, uh, toning down on the hostility a bit? Because usually, getting ponies mad and then asking for money isn't the best way to go.”

She swipes the letter out of your hand. “What are you, my critic?”

“Fuck!” you shout at the feeling of a sharp pain in your palm, and look down to see a red sliver along your skin just at the base of your thumb. A small blood droplet seeps from it, leaving behind a little red trail.

Rainbow's mouth hangs open slightly as she looks at your hand. You just give her an annoyed glare as you wipe the blood off on a nearby rag. “Well, then...”

You wrap your hand with some bandage tape you found in the bathroom. Ponies don't have band-aids, so this has been the norm for awhile.

You hear hoofsteps in the hallway. They go from the muffled shuffling you hear on the rug to the clip-clop of hooves on tile as they enter the bathroom.

“Hey, Ivan.” The hoofsteps stop beside you. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the little blue pony sit down, her big violet eyes gazing up at you. “Sorry about doing that. I just... I'm a little stressed right now.”

“And you think I'm not?” You find that you wrapped it a bit too tightly, and so begin the process of unwrapping and re-wrapping the entire thing over again.

“I know you are. And I should have kept that in mind.” She sees you fumbling with the tape. She lifts her hoof and rests it on your hand, stopping you from wrapping the tape.

You secede to her, letting your hand fall to your side. She pulls your injured hand down to her height, and, using her teeth, begins to apply the bandage to your cut.

As she does this, you start to chuckle, drawing Rainbow's attention. Unable to say anything, she instead voices herself with a questioning look.

You smile good-naturedly. “I feel like some we've reversed roles here. I usually do this for you, whenever I change the bandages on your wing; but now, you're taking care of me.”

She just smiles back at you, and finishes with the tape. After it's done, she rears up on her hind legs, placing her forehooves on your chest. The two of you look into each other's eyes for a moment; then, you curl your hand around the back of her neck and pull her into you.

You feel her lips press against yours, and the two of you share in a warm, light kiss. After a bit, she pulls back, again looking into your eyes. She presses against you, resting her head on your shoulder, and the two of you stay there for awhile, basking in each other's presence.

Shuffle shuffle shuffle shuffle...

Both of you immediately look up, turning your heads toward the source of the noise. You're just in time to see a pink tail disappear around the corner, and make out the words, “Curiosity killed the cat...”

Well, at least you weren't cock-blocked this time.

“Here. How does this look?”

She holds out the newly-drafted letter to you. You take it, and proceed to read through it.

After a second skimming, you hand it back. “That's good. So, you're telling her about us?”

The rainbow pony nods. “Yeah. I guess it's time I started being friendly with her again, and what better way to break the ice than by giving her a rundown of my life, right?” She puts her hoof to her chin for a second, as if in thought, then shakes her head. “Shit, I literally haven't talked to her in almost a decade...”

“So, if I may ask... What happened between you and your parents that caused such a rift?” you ask, checking behind you to make sure nobody else is in hearing range. Cream left after accidentally walking in on your smooch fest, which leaves you alone with your little snuggle buddy.

“It's not both my parents, just my mom. I usually send my dad a card every year for his birthday, and he does the same for me. Sometimes we start writing each other for periods of time, until one of us gets busy or something. I've always really liked my dad.”

You nod. “Okay, so what transpired between you and your mom?”

“Well, the thing is... my mom and I are very alike, I guess you could say. We're both kind of hot-tempered. And two ponies like that tend to not get along so well.”

“Ahh...”

“Yeah. We had a big argument when I was nineteen. You see, she was always supportive of my dream to join the Wonderbolts; in fact, she was always pushing me to work, to achieve great things. And really, I'm appreciative of that. As a kid though, it just seemed like she was being mean to me. Anyway, I'm chasing rabbits here.

“So, the point is, she was fully behind me in this. My dream was to go join the Wonderbolts, and make everyone, including her, proud. The only problem was, that she suddenly seemed to back off the whole idea.”

“Wait, what?” You raise an eyebrow. “So, I'm guessing you two had a big argument over whether or not you'd go, you ended up leaving, et cetera...?”

“Kind of. You see, she hadn't discarded the whole idea entirely; no, she wanted me to keep chasing after my dreams. She just wanted me to go to college first. I'd literally been out of school for two years, and the window for sports scholarships was closing fast...”

“Wait,” you interrupt. “You'd been out of school for two years at nineteen? What, did you drop out?”

Rainbow looks confused for a moment, before seeming to come to a realization. “Oh, yeah! I forgot, your guys' primary schools last for a year longer than ours, huh?”

“Well, we call the last four years 'high school,' but yeah.”

“Yeah, I remember you mentioning that. No, here in Equestria, you start school when you're around seven, and then continue until you're seventeen.”

“Okay, that’s more like two less years… Three, in most cases.”

“Alright, alright. Now, where was I? Fuck, I forgot what I was… Oh yeah!” She clears her throat before continuing. “Okay, so basically, my mom wanted me to go through college before I tried out for the Wonderbolts. In retrospect, that would’ve been the smart thing to do, considering…” She scratches the back of her head, waiting for a response in the hopes that she doesn’t have to say it. You nod, signalling your comprehension. “But, at the time, it just seemed like she suddenly lost faith in my abilities. We got into a huge fight over it, and that, combined with all the years I felt like she was ‘mean,’ just made me decide that I hated her. So, I said goodbye to my dad and my brothers, and left the house.”

This trails off into silence. You’re not sure what she’s thinking about, but in your head, you try to imagine what it would be like to have a family– or, just a single parent like that.

Your parents never seemed to expect much out of you. You were often nagged at to get a job, but you always thought that your career as a guitarist in your little garage band would take off, and you wouldn’t have to worry about that.

You wonder if your parents would have eventually done the same to you as they did to Rainbow Dash. They were always supportive of your dreams, of course, but they never seemed all that satisfied with what you were doing. And if they weren’t, you don’t blame them; after all –

“It was pretty childish,” Rainbow suddenly states. She sighs, shaking her head. “In the end, my mom was right; I should’ve had a backup plan. What was funny was that I actually had a very well-paying job at the time, but was so bent on that dream that I also lost my job, and ended up with nothing.

“And you want to know the worst part? It took me this long to finally admit all that. I’m so damn stubborn, so prideful, that I haven’t even talked to my mother for seven years over something completely stupid. Because I acted– no, still act like a foal.”

She just sits there on her stool, staring at the countertop. She looks miserable, just giving a thousand-yard stare at nothing in particular. You reach over, and begin to scratch her behind the ear.

“You know, Dash, you tend to put yourself down a lot nowadays. Sure, you may be a bit emotional at times, but I know you’re not stupid, and you definitely don’t act like a foal.”

She sticks her snout up into the air, visibly enjoying the scratching you’re giving her. “Oh? And this is coming from Mister Just-Turned-Eighteen, who happens to be the same one who basically takes care of me. I mean, you’ve even had to give me baths before…”

You can’t help but suppress a chuckle. Rainbow opens one eye, somehow giving the same impression that a raised eyebrow would.

“What?” she asks, a little menacingly.

You force back your smile. “Oh, nothing.”

“Why were you smiling?”

“Well,” you allow the corners of your lips to curve upward, “if it helps any, we’ve done some very adult things in those bathing sessions…”

“Ewwww! Gross!”

Your head, as well as Dash’s both snap towards the direction of the voice. In the front doorway stands Scootaloo, giving the most disgusted, scrunched-up face a kid could make.

You didn’t even hear her come in… “How’d you get in? I thought the door was locked.”

The look on her face still hasn’t dissipated in the least. “It was unlocked when I got here. Celestia, I wish it wasn’t…” she adds under her breath.

“Cream probably left it unlocked when she left,” Rainbow says to you.

“Well, I was gonna get something from my room, but...” Scootaloo shakes her head. “...nevermind.”

The little orange filly then proceeds to step back outside, closing and locking the door behind her.

You and Rainbow exchange glances. There’s silence for a good while.

Then, both of you burst out laughing.

Monday.

The most dreaded day, both in Equestria and on Earth.

Yet, this Monday seems to be the least hectic day you’ve had in awhile.

You and Scootaloo sit at the kitchen table, scooping up spoonfuls of bread-based pellets and milk, crunching them, chewing them and then swallowing them. In other words, you’re eating cereal.

Scootaloo stares at the gorilla on the box. It has an unnatural smile plastered on its face, one that a gorilla would never make. It appears to be looking at a cereal bowl the size of its head, while a magical stream of milk pours down into the white glass from an unknown source. With a shit-eating grin, Scootaloo glances back and forth between you and the gorilla.

Don’t say it. Don’t you fucking say it.

“Hey, Ivan?” She giggles, awaiting your response. You try to ignore her, instead focusing on your bread-based pellets.

After a few moments pass, she realizes that she’s not going to get one. That’s okay, though, because she doesn’t need one for this joke.

“Look, Ivan! You’re on the cereal box!”

You raise an eyebrow. At this, she begins to emit little high-pitched cackles, covering her mouth with her hoof as to not be too loud.

“Haha, yeah. You know, it’s even funnier the sixth time you say it.”

She lets out an amused snort. “Heehee, it’s not even the joke anymore, it’s your face. You really do look like a gorilla when you’re mad.”

You play the calm, collected, logical reasoner. “I’m not mad, I was just –”

You’re interrupted by a particularly loud snoring, which echos down the hallway into the kitchen where the two of you sit. It’s not loud enough to actually overpower your voice, but it does cause Scootaloo to jump in her seat.

You smirk. The filly, however, doesn’t seem to notice, instead letting out an exasperated sigh. “Holy Celestia… And you sleep in the same room as her?!”

You take in a small spoonful, nodding. “Yup. You get used to it after awhile. The door to our room’s open right now, so that might be one of the reasons we can hear it so loud out here.”

“Yeah, but I shut my door last night and I could still hear it through the wall. Can’t we like, get some soundproofing or something?”

You shake your head. “If you can’t sleep, you’re always welcome to take some blankets out here and sleep on the couch. Otherwise, you’re just gonna have to learn how to be a heavy sleeper, ‘cause we don’t have the money to do that kind of thing right now.”

She frowns, folding her forelegs over her chest crossly. “So, in other words, you’re saying, ‘Tough beans. Either put up with it or go sleep on the couch.’”

You confirm this with a nod. “As long as you don’t pee on it.”

Before she can come up with a retort, another insanely loud snore emanates from your room. Scootaloo cringes, as if the noise were nails dragging across a chalkboard.

You laugh at her as her face contorts in weird ways. She tries to say something mid-twitch, but can’t stop herself and ends up emitting a funny guttural sound, somehow bringing up the mental image of a Russian attempting to speak in French.

You muss up her hair a bit, then pick up your bowl and walk over to the sink. “Wash out your bowl when you’re done with it, okay?”

You hear a faint “Ugh,” as well as a light clinking as she sets down her spoon. She scoots her chair out from under the table, hopping off the wooden seat and approaching the sink as you dry your own bowl.

“I can’t reach the sink.”

You look down at her. She’s propped up against the side of the counter and, like she says, can’t reach the sink.

“Okay, well, you have two functioning wings and the table is surrounded by a total of four chairs. Let’s see if you can figure this one out.”

She groans, going to the diningroom for a chair and dragging it back to the sink. She washes the bowl with surprising speed, setting it down on the counter once she’s finished.

You check the clock on the wall. It’s a little after seven, leaving you under half an hour to get to work. You walk down the hallway and into your room, past the snoring Rainbow and into your closet where your work clothes are stored. Since you could never match the volume of Rainbow’s snoring anyway, you noisily browse through the clothes you have on hand, looking for something that’s comfortable yet somewhat nice.

You soon find yourself adjusting the collar of your shirt in the mirror. Today you wear a plaid long-sleeved shirt, some tan pants to go along with it, and brown moccasins.

Yeah, moccasins. Ponies don’t know what humans are into, anyway.

“You look nice.”

You turn around. On the bed, Rainbow lies on her side, half-lidded eyes blinking away the bleariness that comes with the morning. Her mane falls messily over her forehead, blending in a flurry of mismatched silk threads.

You walk over and sit beside her on the bed. You run your hand through her messy hair, knowing to look for a particular spot just behind her ear. Your find a soft spot and exploit it, nails digging in below her fur and lightly scratching the warm skin underneath. The tip of her ear flicks and she begins a low hum, smiling.

You do this for a little while, enjoying the quiet noises and subtle movements she makes. Soon, however, it’s time for you to get moving. You lean down, lightly kissing her on the forehead, as you say your goodbye.

“See ya later, Dash.”

You think she’s asleep, but are proved wrong as she turns over and returns the favor with a peck on the cheek.

“See ya, big guy,” she says, running her hoof through your hair. “Love ya.”

You smile back at her. Her vision shifts from your eyes to your lips, and you feel pressure from her hoof on the back of your head, pulling you down. You lock lips from her, your hands naturally curling around her back and neck as you press into her chest, with her doing the same. Your hearts beat in rhythm for the moment, keeping time for you as you enjoy this feeling while you still can.

She finally lets go, and you do the same. She keeps a hoof on your cheek as your prolonged eye contact keeps you in place, dragging out the moment for just a little while longer.

“Love you too, Dash,” you say, leaning down again and giving one last final kiss to her cheek. You stand to leave, exiting through the bedroom door and walking out into the living room.

“What took you so long?” an impatient Scootaloo asks once you get out there. She sits on the couch, backpack in her lap as she idly kicks her hind legs.

You grab your nametag off the counter. What it says, [ ]≡ΓΓoov σy σo'•σ ⌂ß•• ~y⌂σo , still tends to look like gibberish at first glance. You pin it to your shirt.

“Just had to say goodbye to the mare before I left. You’ll get it when you’re older.”

She just sticks her tongue out at you, hopping off the couch and slipping her backpack on. “Well, let’s hurry. I’m tired of waiting.”

You grab your keys and head for the door. “What do you mean, ‘Let’s hurry’?” you ask, eyebrow raised. “You don’t start school until eight.”

“Psh,” she blows a strand of hair out of her face. “What, you don’t want me to walk you to work?”

A kind of strange offer. “Well, it’s not that I don’t want you to.”

“Don’t question it, then.”

That’s too bad, because that is exactly what you were about to do.

Feels like deja vu, too.

“Alright. Let’s go, then.”

“Wow, you were a lot more wild than I would’ve thought you would be…”

“Yeah,” you say, not without a hint of pride, “I’m not saying that it was very smart, but… Damn, if I didn’t have a lot of fun when I was younger.”

“So this means that you’d be okay with me going to parties and stuff, right?”

You feel your throat clench up. “I, uh…” You tug at your shirt collar. “It’s a bit different for mares, you see.”

She scowls at you. “Oh, come on! Right after you tell me all these awesome stories?”

“Well, I think it should depend on our financial situation at the time. As long we have enough bits to support an extra foal, it’ll be fine.”

“Wait, what?! No!”

“Sorry, was just messing with you.” You rub your forehead, knowing that your distracting quips weren’t going to make up for the blunder you just made. You probably sound like the dad with the pipe in his mouth, telling his kids not to smoke. “Listen, just… don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

She seems to be able to agree with this. “Alright, Ivan. I won’t.”

You chuckle. “Well, actually, don’t make that promise, ‘cause I know you’ll break it. Everyone does stupid things; hell, I still do. Just try to limit the amount of stupid things you do, ‘kay?”

You sense that this nod is more sincere. The two of you walk in silence for awhile, the conversation bouncing around in your head for the remaining walk to the hospital.

You soon arrive. Through the glass, you think you see Lyra in the waiting room, but the sun’s reflection makes it kind of hard to see and you lose sight of her soon after seeing her.

Ay. Looks like somepony’s avoiding you.

You stop on the hard walkway. Scootaloo follows suit, sitting down beside you. For some reason, she seems kind of jittery, looking back and forth between the hospital and the gravel beneath her.

Her dad’s in there. Of course she’ll act like that.

“Well, I’ll see ya, Scoots,” you say, patting her on the head. She groans, brushing your hand away. You smile. “You should be all registered and stuff, since we did all that last week. If there’s any trouble with classes or anything, you tell them to contact the hospital, okay?”

“Okay. Bye, Ivan.” The little orange pegasus makes to leave, but stops. She partially turns around, facing you from the side as if she has a question but is too shy to ask it.

You’re about to ask for her, but decide on keeping quiet as she approaches you. She looks you up and down, opening her mouth to speak but shutting it as soon as it seems like she’s going to say something.

Unexpectedly, she hugs your leg. You feel her give it a quick nuzzle before she briskly trots away, neither saying anything nor looking back.

You feel a warmth in your chest rising as you look on after the filly, a noticeable red tinge staining her otherwise orange cheeks.

Hehe. She tries to cover it up, but she can't. You can see it all the way from here.

Mondays aren’t all bad, it seems.

You enter the hospital, the smell of over-cleaned furniture and the wheezing of sick ponies gracing you with their presence. These two combined elements have always been your trigger to walk on up to the front desk and greet your favorite receptionist.

And, with your head still in the clouds, you do exactly that.

You place your elbows on the table, a smug smile crossing your lips. The receptionist has their back turned to you, the big rolling chair blocking vision of one another.

“Oh, Cream~” you say, thinking you’ve got her, “I think you forgot something!”

The pony in the chair turns around to face you. Instead of the pink unicorn you're accustomed to, however, a teenage stallion is in her place.

“I'm not... That's… What?” he says, his voice steadily growing quieter when he sees you.

Fuck! How the hell did you forget?

He stares straight at you. Unsure of how to react, you stare right back. Both of you sit completely and utterly still, neither of you knowing how to break the uncomfortable silence that seems to intensify between the two of you.

You're saved when a familiar voice calls your name. “Hey, Ivan!”

Grateful for the interjection, you break eye contact with your new friend to address a certain mint unicorn. Lyra approaches you at a brisk pace, wearing a grimacing as she comes closer. You rise to your feet and face her.

“Hey, Lyra. What's up?”

“In my office. I need to talk to you.” You feel something tugging on your hand. You look down to see a magical aura encasing your hand, pulling you toward the hall.

You oblige, following Lyra through the hallway door. “Alright, sure. What about?”

“It's private. I'll tell you when we get there.”

'It's private...' In other words, we're going to have an uncomfortable conversation.

Okay.

Her office isn't far from the lobby. The two of you enter, Lyra being sure to close and lock the door behind you, as well as lowering the blinds over the window that usually allows one to see into and out of the small room.

She sits down in her cushioned rolling chair, you sit down in the one in front of her desk that feels like it was carved out of diamonds. The whole thing gives you a sense of deja vu – it feels like elementary school all over again.

Lyra is the principal, and you’re the unruly student about to receive a stern talking-to.

The mint unicorn clears some papers off her desk, using her magic to open drawers and assort them into various folders and files. When she’s done, she places her hooves together on her desk, looking you straight in the eye with an expression that denotes a feeling of complete seriousness.

“I’m going to start off with the obvious,” Lyra says. “Cream was fired last week while you were gone.”

Why is this supposed to be obvious to you? You feel a nervous tingle in your spine as you begin to wonder where she’s going with this.

She stares at you for a moment, as if waiting for a response. When none comes, she lets out a sigh. “The reason she was fired was because alcohol was discovered in one of the receptionists’ drawers. Apparently, all three full-time receptionists were completely aware of this, and were collectively stashing it there. We don’t know for sure if the weekend receptionists knew as neither of them admitted to this, but they were let go of as well.”

You frown, something Rainbow said earlier coming to mind. “That’s… a bit harsh, don’t you think?”

Lyra merely shrugs. “I thought it was, but I didn’t make the decision. Hell, I probably would have never said anything had I known, so long as it didn’t jeopardize my own job. But unfortunately, rules are rules, I guess.”

“So, is that it?” you ask, though you know that it certainly isn’t.

A scowl forms on the unicorn’s face as she stares at you intently. “You know, I thought you would be more upset at this news.”

“Well, I was when I first heard it,” you retort a little defensively. “Cream already came over a few days ago and told me everything that happened. It’s only natural that the shock has kind of worn off on me by now, right?”

“Cream has been to your – No, you already know?!” Lyra’s eyes bug out, livid at this new information. “Why the hell did you make me explain all that to you, then?”

“I figured you knew, since apparently it was such ‘obvious’ information!”

“I was referring to the way you were flirting with the new guy, smart one.”

“I wasn’t – you know what?” You stand up from your chair, glaring at Lyra. “If all you’re gonna do is hurl insults, then I’m done here.”

You whirl around, giving her your back as you head for the door. As you reach for the knob, however, a green aura surrounds it, holding the lock in place.

You groan. “Lyra, seriously.”

“Ivan, please sit back down.”

You ignore her, instead trying to manually unlock the door. Unfortunately, her magic proves to be a quite a bit stronger than your fingers.

“I’ll just bash this entire door down if you don’t – ”

“I’m sorry for getting mad, alright? Just please sit down, this is important.”

You stand there for a moment, considering her half-assed apology. The aura fades from the doorknob, giving you the option to leave the room.

You sigh, turning around and walking back to the desk. Reluctantly, you plop down in your seat, not eager but willing to give Lyra a second chance.

“Alright. Shoot.”

She sighs, doing what she thinks is a discreet job of rolling her eyes. Again, she clasps her hooves together in front of her, taking in a deep breath before she speaks. “Before I go on, Ivan, I need to ask – were you just outside with Scootaloo?”

You think for a moment. Why does she want to know? Do you tell her? This only confirms that you really did see her, and that she very likely was avoiding you… or Scootaloo.

“Yeah, I was. Why?”

Her face seems to be caught somewhere between skeptical and curious. “Last I heard, she was caught with alcohol and being sent to a fillies’ home in another town.”

How did she know? News tends to travel fast in small towns, but she knows a bit too much for simply being the doctor treating Scootaloo’s father. Something doesn’t sit quite right with you.

Again, you confirm what she says. “Yeah, she was. But I, uh…”

Lyra leans forward, ears perked. That last part was a slip of the tongue; at this point, you’re really not sure you should trust Lyra. You don’t know what she could do if you told her you adopted Scootaloo, but something tells you she knows a lot more than she’s let on so far.

The cautious side of you wants to take those last few words back. Unfortunately, it’s a little too late for that, so you decide to just come out with the truth.

Besides, chances are she’s going to find out anyway. What’s the worst that could happen?

“I adopted Scootaloo. Now, why is this so important to you?”

Lyra remains a blank slate for awhile. “Well, you actually did that,” she mumbles under her breath. “Alright, then. With you as her guardian, this takes on a whole different issue.”

“What?”

“Quick question: do you usually just let Scootaloo run free around Ponyville?”

Is she calling you irresponsible? “Well, yeah. I mean, she’s almost a teenager.”

She seems to pick up on your slightly aggressive tone. Oh, no, that’s fine. Ponyville is a relatively safe town, after all. But have you ever asked her about her day?” She puts emphasis on her next words: “Where she’s been?”

“Of course I do,” you retort. Damn, she could easily be a state social worker. “Believe me, she usually tells me a lot more than I care to hear about.”

“Really? Like what?”

You fold your arms over your chest. “Do you really need to know?”

“Maybe I don’t,” she says, her voice dropping to a lower pitch, “but I think you need to.”

You raise an eyebrow, tilting your head skeptically. What you don’t reveal, however, is the anxious feeling rising in your gut, as you worry over what Lyra might say.

Where has Scootaloo been that you haven’t known about?

“Scootaloo paid her father a little visit the other day.”

This almost causes you to break your composure. Being passive-aggressive will make up for it, you’re sure. “Is that really so bad? I mean, he is her father. She has a right to visit him.”

Lyra’s jaw nearly breaks off. She falters for a moment, only able to utter a classic ‘I can’t believe this’ statement. “After all that’s happened, I can’t believe you would still say that.” She stutters again, her words tumbling over each other until she finally manages to blurt out one thing.

“Would it interest you to know that she had a half-empty beer bottle in her hoof, and that she’s not allowed to see him because there’s a restraining order?”

You almost get the sense that Lyra’s trying to start trouble here.

Yet, that sense is completely bulldozed by the few things Lyra just mentioned.

Scootaloo’s playing with fire. So soon after her life was almost ruined, she’s back to toying with the root of her problems.

A half-empty beer bottle. You can only speculate where the other half went.

And she never even told she visited her dad.

What the hell.

No, seriously. What the actual fuck?

Does she think this is some kind of game? What if somepony caught her?

No, no, scratch that – somepony did catch her. She just got really fucking lucky.

By now, you're sure your calm mask has slipped off, because Lyra keeps fidgeting in her seat. It's funny; despite how determined Lyra seemed to get you riled up, she doesn't seem to happy with the results of it.

“Hey, Ivan... You alright?”

Are you alright? You feel betrayed; you gave that filly a second chance at life, and she goes and nearly blows it away. You told her you expected her to do stupid things, but this… this is beyond that spectrum.

Your fingers intertwine in a tight weave. “I'm fine,” you lie through your teeth. “It's just... I have one question.”

Lyra appears attentive, yet somewhat loath to respond. “Yeah?”

“It’s about that restraining order. I just can't help but notice that there wasn't one when Rainbow and I left for Canterlot...”

As the seconds pass, Lyra seems to grow more and more uncomfortable.

“What I'm wondering is why she's suddenly not allowed to see him. What happened while I was gone?”

You think you know the answer to your question, but decide to hear her out.

Lyra's mouth hangs open for a second, whether suspended in disbelief or simply lacking words, you can't tell. “I... thought you knew.”

You shake your head. “As it appears, nobody really tells me anything, so I'm kind of in the dark here.”

“Well, she was caught with the beer, and – and h-he's the one who gave it to her. That's why there's the restraining order.”

Suddenly, it all clicks together.

”I had an extra pack of beer I left in there, and Cherry decides she wants to go give some to – guess who?”

“Scootaloo's motherfucking dad.”

You're not sure how you feel about this. You're not sure what you're supposed to feel.

Except anger.

“Does anyone else know?”

Lyra quickly shakes her head no. “Only us four. Me, you, Scootaloo and her dad.”

“Can you promise not to tell anyone else?”

She nods. “Yeah, sure. I never meant to, anyway.”

The rest of the work day passes by, but neither of you say a word to each other.

Author's Note

Thanks go to Anonymous Nyan Cat and jazzaman for spellcheck and editing!