The Sweetest Music

The Sweetest Music

Chapter Eight

Blue in Green

***

It was half past eight and the desk with her name on it seemed more and more outrageously boring by the second.

The unicorn mare groaned and hid her face in her hooves. There had been no customers. No movement whatsoever, save for the occasional click-and-clank from the kitchen and Bon-Bon's hushed and angry whispers. Feels just my old work... Lyra mused boredly.

Wait. She... she never quit. Suddenly, fear rushed back to her, for a few moments, at the whole surrealism - surreality - of the situation. She still had a job to do, a mother to care for, a city to live in... But instead, she was trying to settle - no, she was actually settling! - here in Ponyville. She was thinking of this... temporary business affair as a job, and her hotel as the new home. She had just caught herself thinking that - but hadn't she realised it prior?

"And here are the sweets~" Bon-Bon cooed, emerging from the kitchen. The mare seemed to have an enigmatic, even awesome, effect on Lyra: all thoughts ceased in her presence, all worries faded, the anxiety left - for a while. "How are you doing so far?" the beautiful mare wondered, placing a tray full of delicious treats on the counter.

"Fine." Lyra sighed. And bored. "Can't say the same about the store, though." Staying true to her decision, she allowed herself to indulge in conversation with the pretty mare a little more. "Haven't had any customers yet."

"That's all right," Bon-Bon assured. "I don't really get that many customers." She sighed. "Sometimes, I do, though, hence the need for help. And it's Monday morning, after all." Was it already? Lyra blinked. Time flies, she thought idly.

"Why would you open up so early on Monday then?" Lyra wondered, quickly adding, "Not that I'm complaining."

"There's always a chance for a customer,"  the confectioner explained simply, followed by a short pause. "Like you, yesterday, for example." Did she... blush? She blushed! No, of course she didn't... But... There was a tiny, almost imperceptible flush in her cheeks - yes, it could very well be a blush, maybe a blush of attraction, even. But... So what? It would just forever remain unspoken. For the best, Lyra told herself, not sure whether she was lying to herself or not; hypocricy was part of life, after all. Even if there was a possibility - there wasn't? - of  attraction...

"Why do you need to make new sweets every day, anyway?" Lyra wondered in an internally desperate, yet externally tranquil, attempt to change the topic. "Can't you just make enough for a week?"

Bon-Bon's smile looked both exhausted and indulging. "Lyra, I don't just make sweets - those that don't need to be freshly made." She pointed her hoof at the tray. "Take a look." Lyra took a look.

The tray revealed to her all kinds of pastry: the crispy biscuits, and the ever-so-slightly-sweetened crumpets, and the big, deliciously-looking Scoltish cookies, and the muffins, and the cupcakes - absolutely everything. Well, almost everything, at least. But of course, Lyra mused. That freshly-baked blueberry muffin didn't appear from nowhere.

"Try it," Bon-Bon suggested - no, she offered generously, adding the obvious, as if it couldn't be read in her face, "Free of charge! Don't even think about paying."

With a grateful, appreciative nod, Lyra took up a muffin in her telekinetic grip - a strawberry one; a little diversity wouldn't hurt, would it? - and munched on it delightfully. Fresh filling assaulted her tongue in an entirely pleasant way, the taste of fresh strawberries in winter both surprising and utterly satisfactory. "It's delicious," Lyra said honestly. "You are an amazing confectioner."

"Thank you." Bon-Bon smiled. "I wish I could spend more time cooking and less time dealing with papers." The mare sighed. "Which reminds me..." She trotted towards a desk resting - waiting - in the corner and swept up documentation with another sigh. "I still need to go through the bills."

Lyra stopped with her meal - it could be considered breakfast - and stared at the cream-coloured mare. As much as she hated her old... No, that's not the word... As much as she hated her Canterlot work, there was a chance - a possibility - to help this wonderful mare, the beautiful, good-natured, cute, sweet, sexy mare... "I can do this for you."

Bon-Bon raised a brow in evident disbelief. "What do you mean?"

Lyra smiled a little sad smile. "My job in Canterlot involve...d," she began, pausing before saying the key word, the key tense, the truth of the matter - wasn't it? "Well, it pretty much consisted of running through papers: bills, accounts, stuff like that." The lyrist couldn't help but feel a little grim - at the memories of boredom, and a little proud - at her skill: "I am pretty good with law and finance stuff. All I ever did was help other ponies run their businesses." Now that was a statement she'd never put to words before - or so it seemed.

But wasn't it so? It was. She had never had a business of her own; not just a business - a band, a flat, a pet, hell, even a mare; of her own. She was just there to help others. But, at least, now I'm doing it willingly, Lyra told herself, and that somewhat calmed her down. For the time being.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Bon-Bon wondered. Lyra looked into her eyes, those pools of divine, calmly hectic blue. It wasn't just a polite offer, or a psychiatrist's job-like request, or the kind of suggestion done in the best interests of the asker, and not the recipient. No, it was honest and genuine.

Still, Lyra declined with a shake of her head - not a sharp one, lest she offend the mare (and there was some uncertainty still) - but still a decently firm one. "Let me take a look at the papers, Bon-Bon." Lyra managed a smile. Oh, how did she want to call the mare 'Bonnie'! "I think you'd better catch some sleep. I'll handle the customers, if any."

"Thank you." Bon-Bon hesitated for a moment and leaned in for a quick hug, before leaving the room swiftly.

For a while, Lyra just stood in place, blinking dumbly. Her body couldn't even perceive it: Bon-Bon's skin touching hers under the fur, her front hooves embracing her neck for a moment, her breath falling onto her ear for a millionth of a second... Stop that. Lyra shook her head violently, now without fear of being noticed, and levitated the papers. It was just a hug. Straight mares do it all the time. But... Filly-foolers were different by nature, and acted differently - she knew; she felt; she was -  and that hug felt like...

Lyra had to slap herself on the cheek - lightly, not to get a bruise or cause actual pain; just to cut off the thoughts with a sudden, rough movement.

She stared at the bills, redirecting her mind at the paperwork. Numbers danced before her eyes, and Lyra lit up a cigarette. She didn't know Bon-Bon's policy on smoking - especially now that she was an employee... She was, right? - but then again, she'd never seen a non-smoking establishment before. Lyra closed her eyes and let out a sigh, smoke emitting out of her mouth and nostrils. The mare concentrated.

She had work to do.