Twilight convinced me to take a breather before we went out into Canterlot. She tried to get me to go to sleep, but I convinced her to stay up with me, just to talk for a little while. As I lay here in my bed, the sunset out of my makeshift hospital room’s window quickly fading into night, I think on just how much I need this day out with her.

Despite how long I’ve been in Equestria, for how long I’ve known Twilight, and how much time her and I have spent together, I still feel distant from her. She’s one of the people I’m closest to here, yes, but that really doesn’t say a whole lot. Pinkie’s my best friend, then there’s Maud, and Twilight...yeah.

I mean, relative to how I get on with everyone else, Twilight is my friend, but that’s mostly just a consequence of my own social awkwardness. The only reason I’ve spent any time with her to begin with is because I’m alien to her. Even so, I know she’s a good person at heart (person, pony, I’m beyond semantics at this point), so I don’t see the harm in trying to get a little closer to her.

At least, that’s the point I use to try to convince myself that the whole ‘let’s hang out in Canterlot’ thing isn’t just an act of selfishness on my part. Maybe she needs the time off too.  

I glance over to my bedside, where Twilight is sitting in a modest wooden chair, leaning her head against the wall, staring up at the ceiling.

Yeah. She could probably use the time off.

“Twilight?”

Twilight doesn’t respond for a moment before a look of recognition crosses over her face. She turns her head to me with a small smile and a raised eyebrow.

“Twilight?” she repeats, letting out a huff of a laugh. “What happened to Sparkles?”

I don’t bother correcting her. Something tells me that she would find it immature of me to be calling her something with a ‘z’ substituting for an ‘s’. Seems kind of like a conversation killer anyhow.

“Something tells me it was starting to wear on you.” The look she gives me seems to affirm that. “Besides, you never seemed the type for nicknames.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I mean…okay, I’m not trying to say you’re no fun or anything, but…wait, that’s a horrible way to start this sentence, um…gimme a sec.”

Did I mention my social awkwardness?

“Okay, so, take Pinks, for instance. She’s the kind of friend whose up for anything you think is fun, right? And Pebbles, she-“

Twilight giggled, then got this surprised look on her face, like she didn’t expect to find what I said to be as funny as she had taken it.

“P-Pebbles?” she dared, covering her mouth with a hoof. I think she already knows who I’m talking about, but I roll my eyes and tell her anyways.

“Maud.” Twilight gave me a leveled look, her hoof still raised as if to physically block out possible laughter.

I give her a deadpan expression.

“I’m working on it. Anyway, she’s, uh…” I faced the ceiling, hoping that the blank white of the paint would clear my head. “Se’s not exactly the ‘fun loving’ type- at least, not conventionally, I guess-but she has this sorta rough exterior that you have to…I don’t know…soften your way through to get to who she really is. Nicknames help with that. I think so, anyway.”

I could practically feel Twilight’s good humor melt into mild irritation.

“I don’t think you’re trying to insult me, but if you’re not, you’re doing a pretty bad job at expressing that,” she pointed out.

I feel a bit guilty, but pass it off with a laugh.

“I’m bad with words. Trust me, I sound a lot smarter in my head.”

Or maybe I don’t. Not that it matters. Either way, I’d rather have her under the impression that I just sound like a dumbass.

“Anyways, yeah, I’m not insulting you.” “You know what, I’ve got it. You’re transparent.” I felt her eyes on me, and hurriedly clarified. “Uh, in a good way, I mean. I feel like everyone I know unintentionally hides under some sort of persona. Pinkie can be sad, and Maud can be really sweet. You’re consistent.”

“And that means I don’t need a nickname?”

“I might as well be as straightforward with you as you are with everyone else.”

I’m talking straight out of my ass, despite the mild truth to my words, but of course I don’t tell her that. Really, the only reason I’m saying any of this is because she’s had the weakest response to my whole nicknaming thing out of anyone here. Everyone else seems to brighten at them, to an extent, like I’m sharing some kind of moment with them, like there’s comradery between us. Twilight just takes it in stride. All I can assume from that is that she doesn’t want that nickname. That, maybe, she doesn’t want that kind of connection.

Only took me, like, eight months to realize that. Shit, man.

Twilight’s quiet for a bit. Her silence disconcerted me, so I turned my head away from the blankness to face her. Her head is angled to the floor, her chin pointing at her chest. She doesn’t seem put out, just tired, but it doesn’t hurt to check, even jokingly.

“What? You all broken up about not having a nickname?”

She shrugs.

“Not really. When you gave me it, I recognized it mattered to you to some extent, so I just let it happen.”

I furrowed my brow in confusion.

“And how’d you figure that?”

Twilight shrugged once more.

“You give everypony nicknames. Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, Rarity, myself, Pinkie…and Maud, apparently.” Twilight paused, raising her head, directing her tired gaze on the window.

It was late out.

“You never identified nicknames as a particularly important part of human culture,” she went on, yawning. “Either it was an unimportant quirk of yours, or the opposite.”

“Well…” I reached up and scratched the back of my head, feeling a bit embarrassed, but warm. “I appreciate the effort.”

Twilight shifted into what I assumed was a more comfortable position for her in the chair. Princess of the land, falling asleep in a wooden friggin’ armchair. Christ.

She yawned once more, this one more petite and short lived. She was on her way out of consciousness, and I would be soon to follow. We had a full day tomorrow, after all. Big day on the town.

“In any case, I believe it went a long way,” Twilight said drowsily.  

I settled into my pillow, my body on its side to face Twilight.

“Yeah? You think so?”

“Hunter, it’s been over a year,” she responded in a somewhat dead voice. “You have a job, housing, citizenship…friends. Close ones, like Pinkie. You’ve fully integrated. Clearly, whatever we’ve been doing to get you adjusted has worked.”

If only she knew how much that mattered to me. It’s nice to belong somewhere; to fit. I hadn’t fit anywhere…hell, with anyone, for a long time.

“Yeah, and once I walk off the withdrawal, I’ll be back on the horse in no time.”

Twilight looked at me with one eye open.

“…Expression?” she mumbled sleepily.

“Expression,” I confirmed, amused.

I saw Twilight’s eyes dart eagerly to a notepad on the bedside table. I saw her consideration. I saw her tiredness. I saw her shrug.

I saw her drift off.

And I smiled.