Chapter XI

The clock said noon and the Café was bustling with patrons and waiters. Audacity stood by the entrance, he looked around, she wasn’t actually late yet, yet he still searched for her. Rarity watched him from a distance, there was nothing that suggested anything more than a simple stallion looking to gain some knowledge of his new hometown. She watched him glance into the crowd of diners, he looked confused. He hadn’t clearly shown himself to be a snake in her preliminary reconnaissance so she decided to procede with the meeting. With a deep breath, Rarity started toward the beautiful and mysterious Pegasus. He spotted her and walked to meet her.

“Hey there! Thought maybe I was late, or I had the wrong café or something.”

“Nope, you were right! Right time, right place.” She said with a casual toss of her mane.

“Good, so, what did you have in mind?”

“Whatever you feel like, we can just take a walk through town and I can show you stuff.” She said nonchalantly.

“Well, that sounds good. Thanks again for showing me around, I really appreciate it.” She laughed and pushed aside her seductively styled mane.

“Don’t mind at all.” They began the tour, and Rarity immediately went to work uncovering his plan. They walked down Mane Street and she pointed out the basic amenities and such. In a polite, friendly, and entirely inconspicuous manner, their conversation drifted to him.

He told her again that he was a bit of a flight pony, he taught private clients for a living and flew a few races for fun. He in turn asked her about her life and she of course informed him that she was a baker, nothing fancy. That she liked reading, sunsets, and good music. Rarity searched for signs of arousal, yet Audacity seemed to care more about the town than her blatant sexiness. But many snakes show no interest before popping a casual question of dinner and she knew better than to rely on early conclusions. If anything, he knew she was baiting him and would wait until later to spring his trap.

They strolled through the town square.

“You know Rarity.” He turned to her. “I really like this town.” Here it came, the inevitable question of dinner and possibly something to drink. “Thanks so much for showing me around. I get a lot of ponies who get so caught up in my reputation that they don’t even see me as a pony. I’m glad you could just give me a straightforward tour.” She knew the start of his plan was unfolding and Rarity decided to push him into a corner.

“So tell me Audacity, how did you earn your Cutie Mark? The one everypony sees on the first place flyer?” She asked playfully. He grinned and tossed up his hooves.

“C’mon, I thought this was just a tour between friends. No need to bring reputation into this.” She knew she had him cornered.

“No, no, I just wanted to know.” She said, her words oozing with preemptive scorn for the obvious liar and snake. “How did the famous Audacity get his Cutie Mark? What’s his special talent? I want to see that famous Audacity the Pegasus that I’ve heard so much about.”

His shoulders dropped, his smile faded and he sighed heavily. The snake knew he was beaten.

“You got a lighter?” He asked. She shook her head, it was going to be funny seeing him try and weasel his way out of this after boasting so much about his “amazing flight career”. He looked around and dashed into a store, Rarity wondered if he was even going to return. He did, carrying a little bottle of kerosene. She became a little worried about what he was going to do.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to show me.” She uneasily to the possibly pyromaniac. He shook his head.

“You wanted a show, guess I owe you that.” He said unhappily. The Pegasus rocketed into the air suddenly. He curved up and began to speed across the sky. Rarity watched him streak through the air, he was a reddish lightning bolt against the blue backdrop of the sky. Audacity was still trying to act like a bigshot Pegasus, how pathetic. The red pony flew straight and fast, with no indication of even beating his wings. He could fly decently, she had to give him that.

Suddenly the bolt of red exploded into flame and Rarity’s heart jumped. Ponies around her looked up at the burning comet that now thundered through the air. The flying inferno left a trail of bright reddish yellow flame. It dipped suddenly and ponies began to flee in terror, Rarity realized the burning Pegasus was falling toward them. She screamed and started to run as the flaming missile shot toward earth. She had almost reached the safety of a shop door when a blast of heat threw her to the ground. Picking herself from the curb, she looked back in horror. The thick black smoke of kerosene was billowing about the crash. A red hoof stepped from the smoke and a blackened but unscathed Audacity walked toward her. His mane was a little singed, but there was not a scratch on him.

Rarity was aghast, he was real. He wasn’t a snake, he was everything he had implied and probably a lot more. He wore an expression of embarrassment and brushed some soot from his wings.

In a few seconds, ponies realized that they had just witnessed a performance instead of a suicide and began to swarm about the Pegasus. Rarity ran toward him as well, but was beaten back by the eager masses. She caught sight of him, he was grinning to the crowd, but Rarity saw a sadness in his eyes, he didn’t want to show off. Rarity realized she had probably cost him the only privacy he would ever have in Ponyville. He looked up and their eyes met, the sadness left and Rarity thought she saw a shine come to his deep blue eyes. Did he like her? Their view lasted but a moment and he was immediately pulled into the crowd, but the damage had been done. From that day forward, Rarity was in love with Audacity the Pegasus.

The first four rows of the outskirts of the town were the roughest patches; the interior of Ponyville was almost entirely finished. Sugarcube Corner, with its menagerie of peppermint stripes was the only building near the town center still unpainted. The signs were all to scale and properly marked. Rarity surveyed the model with complete amazement; Rainbow Dash had done a superb job. She inspected the accurate coloring of the windmill.

“Wow, that’s, well, that’s really good.” She said frankly. Rainbow Dash blushed.

“I spent a lot of time on it.” She pointed to the windmill. “The colors were hard to match, since I’ve never done anything like that before. I missed your help when you were in Cloudsdale.”

“This is excellent, you actually did about as well as I would have.” Rarity admitted. “Oh! That reminds me, I brought you back something.” She teased. Dash looked to her saddlebag.

“Oooh, what?” She asked eagerly. Rarity giggled.

“You have to guess.”

Rainbow Dash’s eyes were bright with anticipation.

“Come on, just show it to me!” She demanded in playful indignation.

“Nope, you have to guess.” Dash thought for a second.

“A cup of rainbow? A book on models? Maybe-” Rarity laughed and produced the grey garment.

“This.” The Pegasus eyes were wide as she took hold of the garment. “I, well, ended up meeting the Wonderbolts, I had them all sign it in your name.” Rarity watched Rainbow Dash, who was staring at the outfit. “I know it isn’t actually the same thing as the uniform, but they don’t give those out.” Rarity explained. “Do, you like it?” Dash turned to her.

“Thank you so much Rarity.” The Pegasus hugged her. “It means a lot to me, thank you so much for thinking of me.” She said gratefully. “I’m really sorry your trip didn’t go well, I wish I could change it.” Dash added softly. Rarity released her.

“Well, I’m feeling a little better, Pinkie had a party for me and Twilight came, she didn’t seem pissed so I guess that’s good.” Dash nodded. “I, well, still feel a little bad about upsetting her, but it seems like most ponies see me as a hero instead of an idiot. I don’t really know where I stand with the whole new me thing.” She admitted. “Part of me listens to you and Applejack and I think I really am making progress. But then I just feel like I don’t ever go anywhere.”

“Well, maybe you need to give it some time? Maybe the next step for you is just around the corner, you just don’t see it yet.” Rainbow Dash said thoughtfully. Rarity considered this.

“Do you think I’m improving?”

“You’re making an effort to be something you think is more mature and you are making progress toward that, you tell me what that is.” The Pegasus pointed out. Rarity nodded.

“That’s right. Sorry for always complaining and acting so dramatic, I promise I’ll get better at that too.” Dash hugged her again.

“Aw, you’re perfect when you’re around me. Don’t be so quick to judge yourself.”

“OH! I forgot to mention! I met somepony!” Rarity said suddenly. Dash pulled away.

“Is he hot?” She asked cautiously. Rarity grinned.

“He redefines hot.” The two mares spent the better part of Sunday afternoon discussing the possible reasons for that smile Rarity thought she had seen on Audacity as he was swarmed by fans. Dash made a good point in that he had asked for her to give him a tour and thus probably had at least some sort of interest in her. That deduction pleased Rarity greatly and she accepted it as fact.

That Sunday afternoon, Rarity forgot all about her old self and the anger she felt toward pretty much everything. She forgot about the recession, the Blast and the glum reality of working five days a week at a bakery. She even forgot about the stupid fuckfest that was Ponyville. That afternoon, Rarity was a happy little unicorn, talking with another mare about a stallion with which she was consumed. That afternoon, Rarity was just Rarity.

Monday came and so did the usual depression. Applecrisp and Rarity worked in silence, Mr. Salukas barked a few short changes to the day’s orders, the day passed normally. The next day passed much like before, and so did the day after that.

It was a Thursday night, Rarity left the bakery at around seven, she needed to pick up some groceries, nothing much, just a few lemons and a packet of tea. She strolled to the small grocery a block or so away, the air was comfortably cool. The sun sent golden rays into the street and a quiet wind tickled her ears. Save for some birds overhead, it was a quiet night, everypony must have been eating dinner. As she made her way down the street, Rarity became distinctly aware of somepony following her. She turned and looked around. The street was empty, save for a few fillies playing on a playground nearby. She shrugged and kept going, yet the feeling that somepony was close behind her persisted and Rarity reached the grocery in a hurried walk.

It was cooler inside the little store and Rarity poked through the stack of oval lemons in search of a ripe fruit. The store keeper, an overweight stallion, sat fanning himself by the register; the shop was empty save for them. Finding a second good lemon, Rarity dropped a packet of green tea into her basket and walked to the checkout.

“Got everything you need?” Asked the stallion. She nodded and looked out the smudged window, there was nopony in the street.

“Here ya go.” The stallion handed her a paper bag. Thanking him, Rarity opened the door and stepped out into the street. She had goosebumps, something had her on edge.

“Excuse me.” Rarity jumped, one of the lemons popped out of the bag and bounced into the street. A black stallion rose from a bench next to the entrance to the grocery.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He said quickly and knelt to recover her fallen citrus. She dropped her groceries and faced him.

“Who the hell are you? Were you following me?” She demanded in fright. The stallion held out the lemon, his mane was formally groomed and slicked and his coat was equally pristine. He looked terribly embarrassed.

“Yes, I’m sorry, I, well, I was trying to figure out if you were Rarity the fashion consultant.” He said apologetically. He produced up a photo of her, in which she sported her signature mane. It had evidently been taken before the Blast.

“I, thought it was you, but I wasn’t sure.” He swallowed. “I’m terribly sorry, I should explain. My name is Posh, I run the Straw Purchase with my father, you came into my restaurant a while back. I would have chosen a better means of communication, but I’ve had some trouble finding you.” He held out a business card. “Fact is, I only really knew about you from that recent article about you in the paper.” She continued to eye him with misgiving.

“What do you want?”

“I, well, I wanted to know if you could do some consulting for us. You see, we aren’t entirely certain of the historical accuracy of our décor and we wanted to hire you to help us with the accuracy and general layout of the establishment.” He asked tenuously.

“You decided on a fashion consultant for historical consulting?” She asked suspiciously.

Posh cleared his throat.

“Well, your reputation preceded you; a few of my friends are restaurant owners who you consulted for a few years ago. I realize it seems rather random, and I know you have never actually done historical oriented consulting per say-”

“And you know I don’t do ANY consulting anymore on account of Ponyville boycotting my business and ruining my career.” She finished. He swallowed.

“I was aware of that-”

“So why not a more qualified pony who is still in business?” Rarity demanded.

He sighed.

“Because there isn’t a single pony in a hundred miles with those credentials. We may have just opened a few months back, but we know of Rarity.” He hesitated. “We realize that a lot happened here in Ponyville before our arrival. And please don’t take my forwardness as a sort of jest, but we need Rarity. Career-less or not, the Rarity we’ve been told about could help us.” He saw her mistrust. “Look, we’re not rich, the recession has slowed an already slow stream of customers who want a niche dining experience. My father and I run the business as a testament to the past, we want to make it real. When you came into the Straw Purchase a while ago, I saw that you knew about the 40s, that you knew history. Then I made the connection that you were Rarity, the famed fashion designer who had occasionally done interior work. I don’t know any ponies that are more qualified than you are. Please, we can pay whatever your regular rate was, please let us hire you as a décor slash layout consultant. Your title can be whatever you want, we just want that Rarity touch.” Posh finished awkwardly.

They stood in the street for a couple seconds and Rarity sized up the small, well groomed restaurateur. He had followed her down the street in the hopes of employing her in a field mostly unrelated to her dead career. He wanted to hire Rarity, because of her reputation and not her current position. A smile slid across her face.

“I can never refuse businesspony who strives for excellence.”

“Wonderful! Thank you so much! You don’t know what it means to us that you would accept this job!” He said gladly.

Rarity went home and dumped her lemons and tea atop a crate. She stood for a moment, then squeed with joy. She was doing decorating!

Their first meeting was Monday, they were to meet at the Straw Purchase and draw up a contract. Throughout the bakery workday, Rarity repeatedly started to muse about her new work.

“I don’t suppose they will want me to make new outfits for their waiters.” She said to Applecrisp. “No, that seems a bit far, although, they ARE focused on accuracy. I hope I can remember everything I studied, of course I will, I hope. Do you think it will come back to me?” Applecrisp was carefully folding a pie crust.

“Don’t know, could be either ah suppose.” She said unenthusiastically. Rarity was so excited she nearly forgot to add sugar to the cherry filling.

“Oh! And I met this stallion, his name is Audacity, he’s gorgeous. I don’t know if he likes me, but I’m certainly going to try and see him more.” She babbled on about Audacity and the Straw Purchase. A sort of giddy joy had descended on Rarity and she couldn’t contain herself. Applecrisp nodded and grunted in response. Finally, the clock said six and the order sheet was finished. Rarity tossed her apron behind the counter.

“See you tomorrow Mr. Salukas!” She called to the stallion, who was washing some dishes. He looked up.

“You sound excited, anything special?” He asked congenially. She laughed.

“I got a consulting job!” She replied happily as she exited. Sonny smiled and watched her depart. With a shake of his head, the workhorse returned to his work.

The Straw Purchase was closed for the day and Rarity followed Posh through the darkened building to the office. This to be a formal and very businesslike meeting. Rarity could hardly contain her happiness.

“We’ll set up some preliminary contract, but a lot of your work will dictate how we work things, a day by day basis if you will.” He explained as they passed along the bar. They entered the little office, an old grey stallion was sitting behind the desk waiting for them. Rarity realized he was the same stallion that she had flirted with during her first visit. She felt a spike of embarrassment as he recognized her.

“Why hello miss Rarity! Good to see you again! My name is Pish by the way.” He said warmly. Posh and Rarity seated themselves. “I want to thank you for affording us this time.”

“No problem, sir, I hear you have a position for me?” She replied formally. He nodded.

“Indeed, I am not sure what my son has told you, but I’ll give you the facts.” He laid his front hooves on the desk. “This business means a great deal to my son and I. When you came in a while back, I could tell that you were a pony that knew something about history.” He chuckled and Rarity realized he was talking about their bizarre role-play. “Much more than the average Ponyville citizen.” Rarity liked her employer already. “The fact is, we need somepony to make this place into something that even the burliest fisherpony would eagerly eat from.” He pushed a few papers toward her. “Also there is the matter of historical accuracy, specifically, our need for an attractive yet period correct motif. In short, we need you to make the Straw Purchase attractive to younger and even irrelevant audiences, and still remain true to history. I realize you have been inactive in any sort of consulting for some time, but is this something you could pull off?” Rarity grinned.

“I can make this place happen.” She answered confidently. Pish smiled.

“Excellent! Now, the matter of your payment and hours, is there any sort of schedule you must adhere to?”

“I have prior engagements from nine to six each day. On certain weekends, especially near festive holidays, I may not be available. Pay will be arranged on a task by task basis, creating a historical design that is both appealing and correct will take some time. Plus the actual remodeling expenses, I will charge a separate fee for each specific area of the building I work on. These fees will be made known to you as they come, you may refuse any and all services I provide.” She stated calmly. Pish whistled, he looked to his son.

“She’s a true professional.” He looked to Rarity. “I can admire that.” Rarity blushed a little.

“Absolutely.” She replied.

“Allow me to show you the general trouble spots that we want you to focus on.” Posh said rising from his chair.

“Yes, it’s only fair if we let you get a view of what you’re getting into.” Pish agreed humorously. They exited the office, the darkened room was impossible to view until Posh flipped a switch, illuminating the broad room.

“Essentially, anything we’ve placed a sticky note on is something we’d like re-done.” Rarity surveyed the room. Tables, chairs, the bar, a few decorative plants and a piano, all were covered in yellow sticky notes. It was going to be a massive project. Posh noticed her reservation at the magnitude of the task.

“We, realize that this is of course unorthodox. Is the size of the project going to be a problem?” He asked anxiously. Rarity shook her head.

“Only on your wallet.” She replied breezily.

That night, Rarity sat atop her crate, a flashlight clutched in her mouth illuminated her papers. How was she going to do this? A knot formed in her stomach, it had been nearly a year since she had even taken a job for restaurant layout.

The chairs were probably the first issue, they needed to match the flow of the room and also remain accurate to 40s Equestria. She remembered a few dealers in such furniture, all were acquaintances gained from years of business, would they still sell to her now that she was technically out of business? Most of the tables matched, but they would need refinishing, and a few were still incorrectly dated. The woodshop in Ponyville she typically deferred to had closed a few months into the recession, her best option was Cloudsdale, but that would hike the price quite a bit, and her clients were on a budget. She’d have to check if Appleoosa had any reputable woodshops. And then there was the matter of the lighting, she’d have to decide if they were going subdued or more traditional, it would be an ambiguous decision that had large ramifications.

The unicorn dropped her flashlight. It rolled off the crate and into the grass. A smile had broken across Rarity’s face. She made no effort to conceal it and simply sat gazing across the fields of grass. She was up to her neck in demands and conditions for an impossible request by a low budget employer who wanted nothing less than beautiful perfection. She was right back where she had been before the Blast.

First things first, the baking of bread took precedence over everything else. Rarity was going to work her days at the Lone Star and spend her nights at the Straw Purchase.

The rain poured down in torrents, and Rarity was glad for the warmth of the bakery. She and Applecrisp were passively working on their typical orders when Sonny entered the oven room. Rarity saw that he was carrying the small ceramic urn, her stomach became queasy from the mere sight of the sourdough container.

“Here, there are no customers in this downpour, I would like you to make ten loaves.” Sonny gave them their assignment like any other. He never formally acknowledged that there was any difference between sourdough and any other type of bread. He flicked his head toward the door.

“If you open that make certain one of you is inside at all times.” It was a rare reprieve, even Sonny Salukas became a little nicer when sourdough came around. “I am going to check on dam with some others, if you hear the door, answer it, but there won’t be anypony in this weather.” He left them alone with the toxic yeast. Rarity knew that this would be a horrible experience despite everypony’s best efforts. She picked up the urn and tested the weight. Unfortunately they had not run out of the powdery poison.

Sourdough bread was popular in Ponyville, it had that delightful sour twang that caught the palate and as a bonus it was foreign and thus, very novel. Unfortunately, as Rarity and Applecrisp had learned, sourdough bread gained its unique sourness from a strain of very unpleasant yeast. The concentrated culture which they measured out had the curious quality of absolutely nauseating anypony exposed to it. It was a harmless sickness and only the raw yeast caused the malady, leaving bakes loaves entirely and deliciously inert. Sourdough bread was a treat to consume, and a pain the ass to produce.

Applecrisp shoved a metal bowl filled with flour to Rarity.

“Git it started, ah’ll start on the ovens.” Like plunging into an ice cold river, the opening of the urn was something Rarity had to quickly force herself to do. She hurriedly scooped the clumped cyan powder into the bowl and began mixing the dough quickly. Her stomach tightened and she knew the bacteria were already affecting her. She feverishly cracked an egg into the mix, she just had to keep moving. Applecrisp dropped a pan beside her.

“How we doin’?” Rarity nodded, less talk meant less nausea.

In a few minutes, they were carefully shaping the dough onto the pan. Rarity was biting her lip and fighting the rising dyspepsia as they slapped the wet dough into the pan. Applecrisp frowned, the rare indication of emotion told Rarity that the tough blue mare was feeling the yeast. They finished three loaves and Rarity forcefully shoved the tray into the oven. Her stomach gurgled and she gripped the warm stone tightly. It took Rarity a moment to recover herself and Applecrisp started on a new batch of dough. Rarity returned to preparing the horrendous mixture, they had a long way to go and the warm kitchen seemed to exacerbate the potency of the yeast.

As she shoved the next batch of bread into the oven, Rarity again felt the sickly wash of nausea grip her. A warm pool of saliva filled her mouth. Turning quickly, Rarity kicked the door down and knelt in the raining alleyway. She felt the sickness rushing up inside her, in a second she dry heaved, and then again. She vomited into the alleyway, the noisy patter of the raindrops hiding her retching. Her stomach tight and her vision reeling, the unicorn gasped for breath amidst the tumultuous rain. Applecrisp was suddenly beside her, head to the ground as well, choking on vomit. For a time, both simply coughed and gasped as they regurgitated onto the wet cobblestone. Eventually, Rarity’s stomach quieted and she stood shakily. Applecrisp pulled herself up as well. The soaking ponies took a moment to steady themselves.

“Goddamn, that’s fuckin’ poison.” Rarity said breathlessly. Applecrisp wiped some vomit from her mouth and nodded in agreement.

They got back to work, both shaking and weak. At least the sickness gave them a temporary reprieve from the tortuous nausea and the bakers fought to capitalize on their short-term immunity.

They had finished the tenth loaf when Rarity coughed from the dust in the air and became violently ill. She sprinted for the door, apparently Applecrisp had reached the same point of nausea, because the two caught in the small doorway. Rarity’s hoof hooked on the door and she tumbled down the steps. The world spun and she thought she felt herself vomiting again. She slapped on her side into a wet puddle. The fall knocked the wind from her and the unicorn simply lay in the rain, recovering her senses. She was looking up at the grey rainy sky, her mouth tasted rancid and sour. After a few seconds of dizzy sickness, Rarity picked herself up. She saw Applecrisp at the foot of the steps. The earth pony had fallen face first into the patch of vomit. She was rising to her hooves and wiping the slick, sticky liquid from her mane. An ugly red scrape, apparently from the fall, had risen on her blue face.

“Hey, you ok?” Rarity asked, wiping some vomit from her mouth.

“Ah’m fahn.” Applecrisp said quietly, her voice wavered with bridled rage as she wiped some regurgitation from her forehead. “Let’s just finish them damn loaves.”

Rarity’s stomach gurgled and growled and she fought the returning stomachache. Yet she knew Applecrisp fared worse. The earth pony didn’t show it, but she was siliently fuming with their agonizing work. They just needed to finish the last few loaves, then they could go home.

Rarity was checking the older breads for doneness and Applecrisp was kneading the last loaf of the accursed sourdough, when through the peaceful roar of the rain, they heard the tinkle of the front door. Who the hell was out on a day like today? Applecrisp slapped the mushy white blob angrily and walked out to assist the customer. Rarity followed her to see who their customer was. A soaked and cold looking Apple Fritter was standing just inside the door.

“Can ah help you?” Applecrisp asked impatiently. Apple Fritter obviously didn’t like being the center of attention. She swallowed and trembled for a second as water ran down her shivering legs.

“Beg pardon miss, but ah was just out and got caught in the downpour. Is it ok if ah stay here for a bit?” She asked timidly.

“Shure, fahn.” Applecrisp replied. She started back for the kitchen. She had almost reached the door when Apple Fritter began again.

“Beg pardon miss.” Applecrisp halted in front of the door. Rarity heard her suck in her breath through clenched teeth.

“Whut do ya’ll need nao?” Asked the elder Apple in irritation. Apple Fritter paused.

“Well, nuthin’ ah reckon, but well, y’don’t happen to be Applecrisp do ya?” Applecrisp turned.

“What if ah am?” Apple Fritter looked at her hooves.

“Well, ah figure us to be cousins then, mah name’s Apple Fritter, up for the summer from Appleoosa.”

“How y’know who ah was?” Asked Applecrisp, suddenly wary of the young pony.

“Well, Applejack tole me there was another Apple pony in Ponyville, an’ your voice sounded about raght t’be an Apple.” Applecrisp walked toward the dripping filly.

“Whut she say ‘bout me?” She asked suspiciously. Apple Fritter saw the rising hate in Applecrisp and cowered.

“N-nuthin, she, she.” Apple Fritter stammered. “She don’t say nothing’ bout ya’ll mostly.” The blue mare halted a foot from Apple Fritter. Her voice was low and held that same black quality that Rarity had heard when she had spoken to Ana.

“Ah know whut she tells ya. Just ‘member this lil’ filly, that mare don’t got any more heart than Nightmare Moon; she’s a cold hearted whore whose grave ain’t fit for a swamp.” An eerie deadness came over Applecrisp. “Y’tell her ah’d love to see them apple trees burn, and her with ‘em.” A chill settled on Rarity, she had never seen Applecrisp like this. Apple Fritter was trembling with fright at the sight of the incensed baker that towered over her.

“Ah’m callin’ in sick t’day. Y’kin keep mah pay Rarity.” Applecrisp said, not looking back to her co-worker.

Without another word, the swamp pony kicked the door open and vanished into the grey downpour outside. Both filly and unicorn stood for a few moments. The rain had picked up and Rarity heard the howl of the winds whipping down the empty street. Applecrisp didn’t return.

Eventually, Rarity invited the scared little pony over to the fire to dry herself. Rarity finished the sourdough and placed the finished loaves in the display. She then sat with Apple Fritter for a few hours as the rain blasted the building. It took some coercion, but Apple Fritter eventually began to relax and tell Rarity about herself.

Rarity stopped listening immediately and thought of Applecrisp. It was unsettling seeing her talk so viciously when she rarely talked at all. She had just walked out into the storm as if she didn’t even know it was there. Rarity had never see a pony like brooding Applecrisp. What was her problem with Applejack? Rarity considered asking one of them, probably AJ since she seemed less intimidating. Rarity looked out the window at the storm outside; there was something between those two that held a lot of hate, but what?

The rains slacked off at around seven and Rarity knew she had to walk Apple Fritter home. Leaving a note for Sonny, Rarity accompanied the little filly back to the farm. It was around eight or so when she finally got back to her crates. They had sunk into the muddy field and Rarity feared that water had seeped into containers. There was no way of checking since the openings were halfway buried in the mud. She helplessly climbed atop one of the boxes and went to bed.

Applecrisp was sick the next day. Mr. Salukas didn’t mind since she had given notice the day before and there weren’t many customers anyway.

Thankfully, the storm hadn’t broken the dam. However quite a few businesses and homes had been damaged by the winds and rains. After work, Rarity saw many ponies trotting to and fro carrying various repair materials and tools. She felt a little sorry for the ponies whose homes had been seriously damaged in the storm, fall was coming and so was the cold. Yet there was no serious pity in the heart of the white unicorn; Ponyville hadn’t cared about her in her time of need. Actually, Ponyville had instigated her time of need.

Posh pointed to a few buckets sitting around the dining area.

“A few leaks, but the structure held fine. My dad is up checking the rafters for cracks.” He chuckled. “Surprisingly limber for such an old guy, don’t tell him I said that though.” Rarity laughed. Posh was a pleasant employer, a far cry from most of her fashion contracts. “So, what do you have in mind for today?” Asked the waiter. Rarity pointed to the tables.

“Going to check their dates, then count the ones that are more than a decade off, I’m going to see if I can dig up some more from some dealers I know.” Posh nodded.

“Impressive, already liking your plan. Well, looks like you’ve hit the ground galloping, so I’ll get out of your mane. Holler to me in the back if you need something.” He returned to his office, leaving her alone in the dining room.

It was finally time to start. She looked about her, the spacious room was quiet and motionless, her various tasks sat waiting for her. It was strange as hell to be doing something other than baking bread or some other grunt work. She wasn’t used to thinking, she had just gone on autopilot for the past few months. Rarity began checking the inscription on each table. She worked stiffly; it felt like years since she had actually done any kind of remotely academic work. It took her a few minutes to check all of the tables, the copper inscriptions were smudged and hard to read. Finally she had dated each of the ten tables.

Fuck, she had forgotten to write them down. Searching in vain for a piece of paper, Rarity berated herself for not coming prepared. This was a professional job. Now she would look so unprofessional asking for basic tools. She nervously poked her head into the office. Posh was aligning a bucket with a drip from the ceiling.

“Hey, um, I need a pen and paper.” She asked in embarrassment.

“Legal pad on the top, pen’s in the first drawer on the right.” He didn’t look up from the bucket. Rarity took a slick black pen and the pad of yellow paper and slipped out as quietly as she could. She got the dates down, only three out of the ten tables were out of date. She paused, what now? She couldn’t call her dealer, the numbers were back in her crate. Shit, should she have brought those? Posh appeared in the door of the office.

“How’s it going?”

“Good! Just transcribing the menu!” She replied hurriedly. He smiled.

“I’ve got the whole thing printed up back here if you want. Are you thinking we need a new format for the menu? I was a little worried ponies wouldn’t get the idea of the boards.” Rarity hadn’t been thinking of reformatting the board.

“Um, no, just thinking we need to change the font of the lettering.” The font was fine and she struggled to find a plausible reason for the change. “It, should, be something a little less pop and more in line with the flow of the counter as a whole.” Posh looked up at the board, he studied the words for a few seconds and his brow knit together.

“I…had never actually thought of that. That is a great point.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Man, I can’t believe how much you see. Definitely glad we hired you.” He returned to his office. Rarity looked up at the long wooden board, her thoughtless excuse had just made her commit to re-painting the entire menu in a new font (one that didn’t have so much pop, whatever that meant). But extra work was better than looking unprofessional. She would NOT lose her contract because of unprofessional conduct. She was going to show Pish and Posh that she could conduct her work properly.

She decided on the chairs next, those would take some time. She had successfully flipped each chair in the room to determine their manufacturer when both Pish and Posh entered the room from the kitchen.

“Well then!” Said Pish, observing the upturned chairs.

“Oh! Goodness, I’m terribly sorry, I should have righted these as I went. Let me get to that.” Rarity apologized, hurrying to reset the chairs. Posh laughed warmly.

“It’s your workspace! Do what you like with it.” He assured her.

“Oh, thank you. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure I’ll get them back before I leave.” Posh shrugged.

“Why?”

“Well I can’t let the ponies opening up tomorrow do that! It’s my mess.”

Pish laughed.

“We aren’t opening tomorrow.” Posh nodded in agreement.

“You’re working, we wouldn’t dare open and make you work around that. That’s why we came out to check on you. I realize this is sort of early on and you might not have it all hashed out. But what sort of ETA do you have for us getting back up and running?” Rarity realized just how much they thought of her. They had closed their restaurant indefinitely for her. Just how much of her reputation did they believe?

“Well.” She looked around, never in her life had she even attempted a job like this and thus the prospect of giving an ETA was alien to her. “Twooooo” The words twisted out of her mouth. “W-m-three weeks?” She offered uneasily. Pish and Posh looked at one another.

“That.” Posh turned to her, the estimate clearly surprised him. “Is very generous. That’s what, the twenty first? That’s awfully soon. I don’t want you to feel rushed, honestly, you can take more time than that.” She shook her head.

“Haha, not at all, I understand the importance of getting back on your hooves after restructuring.” She said knowingly. Pish grinned.

“I like you, you are definitely somepony I want in my address book.” Rarity smiled back anxiously. “At any rate, in honor of your first day as a contractor, we wanted to give you a meal on the house. What can I make for you?” He asked kindly.

“Er, well, that vegemite hay was very good.” She answered, in her nervousness she didn’t even think to politely refuse this generosity. Pish flicked his head.

“Coming right up!” They went to prepare her meal, leaving her surrounded by the overwhelming workload.

Rarity fell to the chair, overcome by the situation. She had given them an apparently “fast” estimate for a project she had never attempted. They were preparing a meal for her as a sign of their pure indebtedness that Rarity the unicorn would actually work for them. She felt a lump in her throat, in two days they had come to believe in her more than she herself did. They believed that even after losing everything, she was still capable. Rarity the unicorn was going to make the Straw Purchase the best fucking restaurant in Ponyville in twenty one days, or she was going to kill herself on the twenty second.