".....aAAAAAand--- Voila! A perfect parcel of posies for a patched up pony!" the Great and Powerful Trixie said, flourishing the bouquet of garishly oversized silk flowers.

"Cool!" Button Mash said.

I chuckled to myself. Trixie could be such a ham. She had come to visit me in the hospital that morning, but not ten seconds after her arrival she was pulling tricks out of her hat to entertain my roommate. She had the colt eating out of her hoof in moments.

At the moment she was pulling the old schlocky "bouquet from a wand" trick... the painfully obvious one where you could see the bouquet of flimsy silk blooms popping out of the hollow wand. Any two bit birthday party magician would have laughed at that trick-- at least till the blooms popped off the stems and turned into swirling flock of butterflies.

She spent a few moments pretending to chase after them with a butterfly net (much to Button's amusement), then let the flock swoop into her hat, donning it with a flourish. Button applauded as best he could with one hoof. Trixie pulled a folded piece of cloth from behind his ear and unfolded it into a felt paper version of her own star-spangled hat. "For being such a good patient," she said, plopping it on his head.

"Wow, thanks!" he said.

I heard a chuckle. The doctor was standing in the door. "Bravo," he said. "I hate to interrupt but I'm here to sign Sir Arcturus out."

"Ah, well then, I shall escort my redoubtable sponsor and agent to the door," Trixie said. "Farewell, young Button!"

They of course gave me a wheelchair ride to the front door. Trixie walked alongside me, chatting about the tour she was doing. "I see you've been following my little tips," I said.

Trixie rolled her eyes. "And they say Trixie fishes for compliments," she said. "Yes, I've been following it. 'Play to their expectations, then subvert them.' Yes, yes, it's working marvelously. Happy now?" She dropped the act for a moment and chuckled. "I have to confess, it has been fun pulling out old wheezes like that silk flower gag and adding new twists. The look on the colts' and fillies' faces when the surprise ending comes out of nowhere is just delicious." Her smile softened a touch. "And you were right about them, too," she said. "Performing for foals-- it's been more rewarding than I can say. Thank you for talking me into doing it."

I said nothing. Trixie had been dead set against doing shows for children; she saw it as degrading, 'stooping' to the level of a birthday party performer. It seems that when she had first been starting out a few unfortunate gigs at birthdays and cutecenearas for spoiled brats had soured her on child audiences.

But she was a soft touch. A few more carefully selected performances with better controlled and better behaved audiences had softened her up to working a younger audience. Having a roomful of foals watching even her most hackneyed tricks with big awe-filled eyes had been a balm to the jaded mare. Then all it took was a few gigs at charities--- hospitals, orphanages, fundraisers for handicapped colts and fillies ... after the first little foal had rolled up in her wheelchair and given her a hug for coming and performing for them, her stony heart had melted like butter. I should know, I was there. Just the sight of it had turned me to goo.

"What made you decide to push me in that direction anyway?" the stage pony asked me.

"Personal experience," I admitted. "When I was about half my current age, I belonged to a puppet troupe in our church. Bible stories, songs, lessons... the usual. I never had so much fun in my life, making all those kids laugh. I figured if anything could get you out of the funk you were in over your audience hating you, that would be it."

She gave me a nudge. "Could have easily gone the other way," she pointed out. "There was nothing that said the Great and Powerful Trixie even liked foals."

"It could have. I could have been completely wrong," I admitted. "But aren't you glad I wasn't?"

We reached the lobby. The orderly was rolling my wheelchair past the gift shoppe when a mare came backing out of the sliding door, a get-well mug with a potted flower in it clutched in one forelimb, and bumped into me. It was Violette. "Oh, pardonez moi, Monsieur," she said. "I-- ah! Monsieur Arthur." She pronounced it 'Ar-TOOR.'

"Hello, Violette. Fancy meeting you here," I said politely. It had taken me a moment to recognize her; she was out of her maid's uniform and wearing nothing at the moment... and I cannot believe how odd it is to write that previous sentence, but there you have it.

The pale purple mare hesitated. I think my phrasing confused her. "Ah. I, ahm, how you say, Came to see you." She smiled nervously. She held out the flowerpot-mug to me abruptly. "A gift?"

"Oh, um, thank you, it's lovely." I hope she realized that I wouldn't eat the thing.  In Equestria, bringing both candy and flowers to a date was somewhat redundant. Note to self, talk to Pinkie Pie about the possibilities of chocolate covered roses, I thought as I took the mug.

She smiled timidly. "Are you feeling well, yes?" She scuffed a hoof awkwardly.

"Oh, um quite well, yes," I said. "The doctors patched me up. Better than new, even."

Trixie's eyes darted from me to her and then back to me. I caught a rather sly expression spreading across her face. She made an ah, so sound in her throat and waggled her eyebrows at me. "Well, the Great and Powerful Trixie knows when three's a crowd," she said slyly. "I have to be on my way-- I have a performance slated at one of the local schools." She gave me a quick sisterly peck on the cheek and murmured in my ear. "Be a good boy now and get her home by curfew."

" ...!"  was all I managed to reply. The flamboyant showmare laughed and trotted off down the hallway, cape swirling theatrically behind her. My eyes darted from the departing pony to the one standing beside me-- who was blushing. And smiling? Danger, Will Robinson, alien being is sending mixed signals. She fell in step beside my wheelchair, saying nothing.

And then it spoke up. You know who it is; that little imp, forever sitting on one's shoulder who somehow manages to carry both a harp and a pitchfork with equal aplomb, and you desperately want to believe in the halo over his head even though you can clearly see the wee little red horns poking out of his curly locks. Mine fluttered his feathery little wings, kicked up his darling little cloven hooves where they dangled off my collarbone, leaned over to my ear and with a cherubic smile on his bright red cheeks, said:

Go on, take her out for brunch. What harm could it do?

What good could it do? I retorted silently. We were not even of a kind--

Two sapient beings, male and female?

Of different species--

Inside or out? And which really matters? the malicious little imp argued back. I'm not asking you to MARRY her, after all, just take her out to brunch!

But where could it possibly go?

Not up to me, the imp replied. But you better make up your mind soon on just how human you think these beings are. Because, let's face it, that question has been staring you in the face since day one-- and if you're really dedicated to staying in this universe forever, you're going to get terribly lonely. And with that the mental illusion popped like a bubble and I realized I was silently arguing with myself while Violette stared at me.

Fellow humans, fellow bronies, allow me a moment here. Contrary to the blitherings of various fanfic writers, this wasn't some minor 'hangup' to get over. While amongst ponykind interspecies dating and romance was common.. well, for a given value of common; you had something of a sliding scale ranging from the various tribes cross-pollinating (perfectly normal) to donkeys and zebras marrying into the family (less common but impolite to remark on) to ponies eloping with gryphons and dragons (eyebrow-raising, but it did happen.) And yes, offspring occurred. (Discord's race was mistakenly named after one of the more exotic hybrids, due to his exotic appearance. Hint: Draco is latin for dragon; Equus is latin for horse. Draconequus. Food for thought, isn't it?)

But I wasn't a pony. I wasn't even a native Equestrian. Genetically speaking, Violette was probably more closely related to the fish swimming in the fountain out in front of the hospital than she was to me. A relationship between a human and an Equestrian-- regardless of race-- would be... what would the term be? miscegeny?... of the Nth degree.

In addition, biology would tell. Clopfic writers are fools; I was no more sensually attracted to females of Violette's species than to a brick wall. Yes, they are cute and cuddly looking, and they have certain feminine mannerisms that males of our species find attractive-- but at the end a baseline healthy human male is not going to be naturally attracted to a sapient hooved quadruped.

And it was more than reasonable to assume that ponies felt the same way about the half-shaved three hundred pound space monkey. Females of my OWN species were not attracted to me; why would a female of a race from an entire other universe find me appealing?

Then again... why was Violette here?

The notion was ridiculous. Nothing could come of it. Culturally, socially, biologically we were utterly incompatible...

And yet...

Did it matter? Why did biology even become a thing? Matters carnal mean much or little, depending on the person, and in the end it could be lived without. People did so all the time. But... companionship, on the other hand, was not so easily passed up. Someone to talk to, to care about, to share life with as time passed you by. Was that so wrong?

I regarded her from the corner of my eye. Indeed, why not? She seemed to find my presence amicable; I found her in turn to be pleasant and charming. Why not? At the very least, we could be... sociable. After all, what better way to spend time than in good company?

I cleared my throat. "Miss Violette?"

She looked up. "Oui?"

"Would you care to join me for--"

Before I could finish my invitation to tea, without warning I was dumped arse over teakettle in the street. I landed face-first on the pavement, legs folded under me and my rump in the air. The orderly who'd been pushing me fumbled around awkwardly, stammering apologies. "I-I'm so sorry Mr. Arcturus," the gawky stallion said, trying to figure out how to help me to my feet. "W-we tip the chair forward to help get ponies up on all fours-- I forgot you weren't a quadruped--"

I waved him off crankily. "Leave off, leave off!" I said, heaving myself to my feet. I dusted myself off and snatched my hat and cane from the orderly's mouth, glaring at him. He beat a hasty retreat back into the building, the wheelchair clattering over the pavement. I resisted the urge to wing my floral mug at the back of his head and finished dusting myself off.

Violette made anxious motions as if to try and help me. "Are you hurt?" she said sympathetically.

"No no, I'm fine," I muttered. "Less my bruised dignity, what there is of it." I let out a huff and composed myself. I caught her dimpling into a smile. She hastily covered her mouth with her hoof. It was, yes, adorable.

Oh what the hell.

"Miss Violette, would you care to accompany me to brunch?" I said. I gestured with my slightly mashed mug of flowers to a sidewalk bistro across the way. She blinked at me in surprise, her mouth forming an "o".

Then she smiled. "I... merci, I would like it very much."  With a bow, I escorted her across the street to a table.

It wasn't much, just light tea and some cucumber sandwiches and some idle conversation. But it was... good company.