It was a sun-setting evening when Ser Vincent arrived Carousel Boutique, the perfect time to collect his coat: like the early mornings, few ponies were around. The bell chimed as he entered into the elegant front room.

It functioned both as a boutique and living room; platforms and cordoned off mirrors provided grandiose appreciation and reflection, racks of fine dresses skirted the room, as did mannequins suited with ballroom gowns; a familiar work station was sat to one side, by the stair case, and nearby was a small, cosy waiting area. He remembered being there, he remembered the conversation he had with Rarity. The walls were either a pleasant lavender or soft pink, the royal hues blending, the room scented with faint traces of a familiar lilac perfume.

“One moment!” Rarity sung from behind a door. Ser Vincent waited, captivated by a certain piece among the other magnificent dresses.

“You need not rush, Miss Rarity,” he called back as he approached the dressed mannequin. It wore the once-scarred long coat, the lackluster forest tone rejuvenated into a healthy leafy hue. It was perfectly repaired; where there was once slashes there were stitches closing the wounds, blending with the new floral pattern along the right arm. The thread was just a shade or two darker.

It was what was beneath that caught his green eyes.

“Ser Vincent, darling!” Rarity sauntered out of a backroom, dressed as usual. She was sporting an ivory cocktail dress, the hem reaching her knees, a pearl necklace bringing out her powdery fur. Simple but effective, like her cheery smile. “I did wonder when you’d return.”

“Forgive me for keeping a lady waiting,” he replied, shifting his voice to be as equally as friendly. “I’ve been busy in recent days.”

“I’ve heard,” she said with admiration. Rarity crossed the room, mane and tail bouncing as she rolled her hand back and forth between points, “Vendors suddenly know not to overcharge you and the spa’s abuzz with your aim and how you saved dear Fluttershy.” She stopped by the mannequin, looking up with a gratuitous smile. “Thank you, Ser Knight, she means the world to me.”

“I’m glad she’s fine,” he said with a slow nod. He gestured around the room. “I do believe I missed all this the last time came by. It’s very impressive.” Truly, the variety in fine clothing was evidence of either a savvy business mare or a passionate tailor.

“So kind of you to say, almost risked losing a couple of beauty sleeps for these designs.” She sighed wistfully, pride shimmering in her eyes as they fell onto her hard work. “Fashion week has arrived in Manehatten,” She flicked her mane towards numerous travel trunks and dresses highlighted with glistening purple. The fashionista brought her hands to her chest, clutching a sudden suppressed ecstatic demeanour. Her ears perked as she giggled excitedly, clapping, “Manehatten, oh, I can’t wait!”

She then looked to him, waving her excitement off for the moment, “But enough about that! What do you think?”

He knew exactly what to think of the set up and how it was baited. He’d walk in, find the coat, and the suit beneath. He removed the coat for a better study: there was a long sleeve, double breasted doublet, with gold trimmings and buttons on the emerald fabric. It had no collar but the white shirt beneath provided one, and a neat viridian tie. The pants were an earthly brown, like rich soil freshly soaked. A belt similar to his was wrapped around the waist, the buckle a heater shield shape of silver metal and stamped with an opal core.

Very neat, simple, professional, and stylish too. ‘Certainly impressive.’ He reached for the coat, ‘Shame that I’m not one to be seen in it.’ It would be better for a pony that didn’t hide behind a mask, or would actually be attending formal events as a guest. “You’ve done a remarkable job. I’ll be able to get more life out of—“

A coppery scent stopped him. Another sniff brought him close to the embroidery on the arm of the coat. “Something’s new.” Looking to Rarity only revealed the ghost of a smile on her lips.

Rarity shifted her weight to one side and curled her mane with a hand, “Taking into account that the thread used in your… attempts were different to anything that I’ve used before I gave a sample to Twilight.” She folded her arms under her modest bust, grinning with self-accomplishment. “She informed me that it was tougher stuff and of a stallion that could get me a couple spools of diamond spindle.” Rarity approached the coat, laying a gentle hand on Vincent’s shoulder at the same time. “Honestly, it’s dull to look at but it soaks up dye dreadfully well – shame it’s a bit too stiff for finesse.” She removed her hand before the knight could.

She cocked her head to the side and studied the floral pattern for even the slightest imperfection that dared show up. “Fantastic for becoming alchemy attuned, too.”

Ser Vincent jerked his head back, mildly impressed. “What improvements have you made?” He was genuinely curious.

“Me?” Rarity asked aghast. “Fates no! I asked Zecora if she knew of anything that would fire proof the thread and was delighted to find she knew of a potion. After dying them a lovely emerald – I adore how the contrast catches the light— I handed her the spools and she soaked them for as long they were needed.” Rarity drew her finger over the embroidery, “Obviously I waited for them to dry before daring to handle it but the aroma lingers, only for another day or so.” Rarity winced as she looked up to the knight, “Then I would have invited you over to collect it.”

Her dedication was certainly commendable. “This is simply fantastic.” He had no idea if Zecora’s work was up to snuff but if it was then this was a tremendous boon. “How much is due?” he inquired as he gestured only to the coat.

“Oh that’s for free, dear.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said I’d do it free of charge, and quite frankly for the opportunity to work with new materials was a bonus.” She shrugged and smirked. “Though I suspect it’s a niche market working with alchemy attuned threads and fabrics.”

Well he was rarely one to look a gift horse in the mouth. ‘A tip should suffice.‘ Then came the inevitable, the suit that the coat once covered like ill-concealing stage curtains. He gestured towards it, “And this is…”

“Oh, this was just something I cobbled together after we talked about what exactly you wanted.” A dazzling azure aura engulfed her horn as well as a few short stacks of shirts of different colours. “Speaking of which, I don’t have your exact measurements – I did my best but I can only do so much given all that armour and cloth.” The shirts followed her to a privacy screen where she then turned to face the knight. “I may have to make a few alterations but I will require your assistance.”

His bewilderment and disbelief broke through his voice, “You wish for me to change? Here?” He shook his head and pointed his mask towards the suited mannequin.

“Ser Vincent, you don’t have to,” she placated, “It’s just… more for my sake, you see. I truly want to offer the best of my efforts with anything I do.” Her sapphire eyes shifted to the stack of shirts, “Well, they’re not the best of my potential but if it’s what you want, then I’ll give you my best. The same with anypony else. I’d hate for you to think I was incapable due to a tight collar.”

Pride? She’s worried about her pride? ’Then again, I can relate after the evening with Dash… but what she’s asking…’ He rubbed the back of his hood, his masked gaze falling onto his repaired coat. It was better than new, her skill was unquestionable, her thoughtful nature obvious… Ser Vincent did indeed grow up with a tailor that he and his parents visited. Given that he grew up in Canterlot they were the only one he visited. It wasn’t a new experience but getting a new tailor was disconcerting.

With trepidation obvious in his voice he said, “I can sympathise and given that you already know what I am, and have treated me kindly, I suppose I can trust you.” He took a cautious step, “I hope you know the level of trust I am giving you, as a professional.”

Rarity smiled and nodded. “Of course. You made it perfectly clear how much you value your privacy.” She glanced to the suit on her mannequin, sapphire eyes sparkling as she smirked. ‘Not yet but soon.’

Ser Vincent found little comfort in the enclosure behind the screen; the foldable panel connected to the wall. At the end was a tall mirror, beside it some racking. ‘A sufficient fitting room’ He slumped the repaired coat on the racking.

He peeled off his coat slowly, as if it itself was as reluctant to part from him as he it. ‘She’s seen you without your coat before.” That made shedding his third skin a little easier, but the cool air of the boutique on his ears and neck set him on edge. He turned and hung his coat over the screen, the rustle of his scaled second skin louder without the hood. Ser Vincent tried on his improved coat, working the right arm with the embroidery. It twisted smoothly enough and the copper scent wasn’t offending. He had spares anyway.

Rarity took the hanging coat with her magic, “Just making space over the top for you, dear.” He agreed and she noted a book stuffed into one pocket. She was rather curious but ignored it.

Ser Vincent worked the hidden latches with his exposed hands and made short work of loosening the scaled armour that gripped his body snugly. Like a vest, the thick chest guard was removed, the sleeves following next and leaving a golden chain mail: it was standard guard protection against telekinetic grips of unicorns. This combined with the hydra-esque pieces made for an incredibly enduring chainmail set.

Finally, and with unsteady bare hands, Ser Vincent slowly undid the straps of his mask. The mask was within arm’s reach as he faced the mirror. There it was, a human in its physical prime cowering from the world beyond the silk screen. He spotted Rarity’s glowing horn through the divider, her perfume tickling his nose. For the first time in years Ser Vincent stood half naked in another pony’s home. It was as if his senses had been awakened but maybe that was due to the anxiety gripping his throat. ‘Keeeeep talking—you’re a knight, this should be nothing!’ Vincent hated the pity of others but not more so than from himself. “Do you design these dresses yourself?"

“Oh, absolutely!” Rarity chimed, beaming with pride. “I simply love making new dresses for clientele, why, I always make my own dresses. And put my heart, nay, my very soul in each and every one!”

“Then I fear for the competition you face in Manehatten, it hardly seems to be fair.” His absentminded remark was for the sake of keeping the conversation flowing as it seemed to be holding him together. His well-built form felt exposed to the cool surroundings. Was Carousel Boutique always like this? Was it Ponyville? Canterlot was a mountain city so nearly every building was intrinsically warmed, but here? Did ponies just rely on their fur coats? 'Of course they do, idiot.'

Rarity tittered and physically took hold of the coat by the collar, surprised by the weight. “Such a flatterer!” Well how about that? The knight knew how to be charming if he tried, he just needed to try harder around others. Poor thing. Glancing down, she spotted a small citrus gemstone in another pocket. Again, she dared not pry. “It’s less of a competition and more of a show. A collaboration of other dressmakers and that makes it all the more exciting!” She sighed wistfully amidst the still orbiting shirts. “It’s a truly wonderful event.”

Ser Vincent unknowingly smiled as he set his gear aside, looking to the blue glow shining through the screen that signified Rarity’s position. It was always wonderful to see a pony achieve and accomplish where they were talented. “Well, good luck this weekend, enjoy yourself. Sorry to bother you with my shirts, and speaking of which, I’m ready… I guess.”

A shirt flew over and he regarded with a quirked brow; it was a cyan shade brighter than Rarity’s magic. Hardly earthly hued. Regardless he put it on.

“Now, don’t be afraid to tell me if it needs resizing,” she said before eyeing the suit still on the mannequin. “And thank you, I do hope it will be a brilliant get-away for me and the girls, especially Twilight.” She smirked, “I do plan on treating them to Hinny of the Hills, but I do wonder, do I have to seek approval from you first, what with you being her guard and all?”

A genuine amused huff escaped as he fitted the shirt – a bit tight around the shoulders he noted. “Just be back by eighteen-hundred monday, or else I’ll have to chase you up.”

She blanched. “Oh dear me, running? I’d rather hand myself in.”

“Hinny of the Hills, huh?” he continued, his mind drawing out the file with what he remembered about the show. “Personally not one of Muse’s best work but never the less an excellent performance. Have you seen it before?” He removed his shirt once again.

Rarity was caught off guard but regained her wits. An opportunity to know the knight better? “Never, but I have heard so many wonderful things about it, why, it’s critically acclaimed! I take it you’ve seen it?”

The shirt was hung over the screen. “It’s a bit tight around the shoulders.”

Rarity summoned a clip board and freshly inked quill, taking the shirt and notes.

Ser Vincent continued with the distraction, “It deserves its praise. I was offered the chance to see it after capturing a bog wyvern that had roosted in the sewer beneath the city. Hunted at dusk. Got to see the show after falling through the theatre roof whilst wrestling the poor git out the sky.”

“You’re joking,” she said incredulously.

“You can ask the theatre manager herself – landed right on top of the titular hill too.”

Her pony ears caught his quiet chuckle as she delivered another shirt and so began a back and forth, of experience had by one and experience another had to try. Rarity found him to be quite insightful as the cosmopolitan stalli… man that he was. He knew of several high end perfume shops. Why? Because some perfumes were a key ingredients for repellents against giant snagle-toothed ripraws and such. Which restaurants should she take her friends to for a bite to eat? High Serenity was perfect for an evening meal, a pegasus friendly place with a splendid view of the setting sun as he found out guarding Prince Blueblood.

She found that the notes for shirt alterations were soon joined by jottings of activities to try. And that, in fact, the spicy cologne she caught in his presence was actually a part of his coat. But the topic was mostly about musical numbers.

“Well if you insist, Miss Rarity, I’ll be sure to give it a try when I can.”

“But remember, it’s Estranged Colours before Mercury Touched, don’t make the same mistake I did.”

Ser Vincent in turn steadily lost the sense of dread that once gnawed his nerves. Operas and musicals were topics he was well versed in, and to be engaged in another besides Blueblood about them was both refreshing and a welcomed distraction. He couldn’t escape the horrid rolling stone in his gut whenever he glanced at the mirror and saw his naked face, however. He did his best to ignore it.

“My word, you certainly do get around,” he heard her say as he fitted a grassy green shirt, one that was comfortably taut around his abdominals. “Mind you, that little picture wall of yours is quite interesting. I suppose that is to you as my designs hanging from these rack are to me, no?”

He unknowingly grinned but felt he quirk of his own brow, “In a way, I suppose. I enjoy drawing my missions in a sketchbook and when I feel it’s time to move on to a different part of Equestria, I pick the best missions and post them onto ‘The Wall’.”

Rarity glance back to Ser Vincent’s coat she had put aside. There, poking out a bulging pocket, was the small book. “Is the book in your pocket also one of these sketchbooks?”

Ser Vincent paused removing a shirt, a frown forming. “Aye.” He kept his voice cool. “Feel free to sate your curiosity. When I first got to Ponyville it was at the end of a month long chain of successful missions, but I had little time to draw them. I’m a bit backlogged with drawings from east of here.” He swelled with pride.

It was an extremely dangerous slog through thirty days and nights sleeping on trains and enduring some of the worst of Equestria. A positive was that he personally enjoyed train rides, a childish indulgence associated with travel. Professionally, he could say this was on his record and hardly on anypony else’s.

Rarity withdrew the sketchbook and simultaneously took the green shirt that appeared over the top of the screen. With a flicker of magic she set it onto the pile she mentally dubbed as ‘satisfactory’ and returned one that she had altered. Rarity stepped closer to the screen as she opened the book.

Clip-clop, clip-clop…

Vincent held a breath and scowled at the lapse into silence. The cool air of the boutique was brought to the front of his mind. He was so exposed. He shook his head and retried the cyan shirt again.

Rarity studied each picture and was impressed with the detail. ‘Hmm, landscapes and criminals? Interesting.’ Numbers and dates were jotted on the bottom of scenic pages. Co-ordinates? Likely. A beautiful ocean here, a dense forest on the other page, a magnificent waterfall soon following. And besides these scenes? Thuggish stallions, terrible beasts, grotesque monsters; all sorts of dangerous riff raff.

“I’m rather drawn to the colour scheme,” Rarity complimented as she turned a page, “Very eye-catching and simplistic. Anypony inspire you? I’m getting Rouge Brush in his later years.” She stood beside the screen, looking to it. “You’re surprisingly multi-talented, however do you find time?”

“I picked up my drawing habit from my alchemy tutor. I took his advice: draw the plant and recite its magical qualities.” It was torturous but effective. An ill-drawn anther or a forgotten term would lead to another and make him start over from scratch. Still, he knew most of his ingredients by heart because of it. “The colour scheme’s due to how I perceive the world with magic.”

“Could you elaborate further?” Rarity inquired, finding a couple of later sketches to be without the one-colour-highlight theme.

He explained the basics of his instinctive ability and how his visions becomes drawn to motion. He held the blue shirt in his bare human hands, simply admiring the colour. “Anything still loses colour saturation and anything that lunges at me explodes with colour. I pick which colour struck me the most and that’s the colour I use.”

“Interesting,” she replied before turning to the last drawn page. It was of Ponyville town hall shaded only with graphite silver. No colour but enough detail and lighting to make it one the best piece in the book. Whilst the collection was not of masterpiece tier it was never the less brilliant. She could just sense the dedication in this. “I see that there’s a Ponyville drawing but no corresponding half.”

He fell silent after fitting the shirt. It was perfect.

“Which strikes me as odd-- this one seems to have more attention than the rest, is there something in particular I’m missing or it just unfinished?” She tilted her head and brought a hooked finger to her lip. “It’s not dated like the others either.”

‘Hmmm. Landscape to monster, horizon to beast, scene to brutes but this one is out of place. Why?’ She pondered over this thought for longer than she intended before realising that Ser Vincent had been silent all this time. “Ser Vincent? Is something wrong?”

“I don’t think so,” he said, though he didn’t let his uncertainty show in his voice. Why hadn’t he completed the ‘Ponyville Pairing’ yet? “I’ve just not got round to finishing off the other half.”

He hated the mission with the ogres so that was tossed. He entertained drawing Princess Twilight in the library but found it to be an half-hearted escape route from the ogre incident. He had spent the last three mornings drawing town hall where it all began… but what reason did he have to come back? He only drew sights to behold once more and he’d seen town hall several times. He never saw the other sights since he first saw them!

“I see. So, what exactly motivates you to draw in such a way?” she asked, waiting on the blue shirt. She shifted her weight to one hoof and looked to where he roughly stood on the other side. “There’s something special about the locations, more so because you’ve added an artistic flair. Then again, stop me if I’m reading too much into this,” she finished with a playful smile.

“It fits perfectly,” he said as he hung the shirt and thought about how to explain what ‘The Wall’ meant to him. How it was a measurement for his accomplishment throughout service.

Rarity grinned at the corrected size. Finally.

Vincent put his back to the cool wall, simply staring at the blue glow dimly breaking through the screen as he spoke sincerely. “One half is the mission, the why I went out. I’ve drawn nearly everything, from magma cobras to adolescent dragons, from all over Equestria except the south. Whatever I felt was worthy, whatever I felt would make other stop and apprec… respect me, wound up on the wall."

He saw the blue light shift on the other side. He continued.

“The scenic drawings? Well, a part of me always wanted to travel, since I was a young lad.” Vistas and horizons, lush plateaus and deserts, enchanted forests and hauntingly beautiful crystal caverns flashed before his mind, warming a smile into existence. “I’ll admit that I have a slight affection for train rides – nothing major—just watching the world pass by romanticism gets me everytime.”

Rarity felt her lip curl up and her tail sweep to the side. ‘So this is what he sounds like whilst being honest.’ She scanned another forest scene. “Quite the world wonderer, aren’t you? I believe you’ll just love my father.”

“Fellow traveller?”

“Indeed, both of my parents. They retired some time ago and used the money daddy earned from selling his gyms.” She giggled, “I wouldn’t be surprised if you bumped into him. Anyhow, what makes you draw these sights? See, they’re not towns but they don’t look like monster lairs. Then again, I’m no monster expert.”

“In short: I’d love to revisit those places one day.” He bumped his head against the wall, malachite eyes closing. To think, Ponyville was the first and only place he ever came back to.

“What’s stopping you?” she asked with genuine intrigue, eyes flicking back to the suited mannequin.

“Work. Duty.” He shrugged, his expression falling to uncertainty without his knowing. “Um, resupplying myself for work takes it time. Sometimes I get requests from the Royal Alchemy Society.” He reassured himself by rubbing his shoulders.

“Do you not make time for yourself?” she pressed with a scowl. She folded her arms beneath her buxom chest and tutted. “As far as I was aware there was more than one knight, in fact, there was entire battalion of them.”

“It’s a company, actually.”

“The difference being…”

“About a hundred or so knights, give or take. There’s never been a battalion.”

She gave a flat look, propping her hands and the book to her hips as she leant towards the screen. “So you are, in fact, not the only one.”

He fired back a glare at the dim blue light, “Out with it, Rarity, I’m feeling exposed in this state.”

She scrunched her muzzle and huffed, stepping back from the screen. “You need to make more time for yourself.” She glanced to the dressed mannequin.

“Noted,” he replied tersely.

She tutted and rolled her eyes as her magic unbuttoned the doublet. “Believe me, burdening yourself too much will lead to a disaster!” She sighed and handed the folded suit over to him, “So what will you draw for Ponyville?”

“Nothing strikes me as worth coming back for,” he admitted with unease and guilt.

Rarity quirked a brow.

“Um, Miss Rarity, I don’t mean-”

“Give it time,” was all she said, silencing him. She sent the suit around, shrugging towards the screen with her horn aglow. “I’m guessing the things you’d return to Canterlot are precious to you; why not give us time and I’m sure you’ll find something special about Ponyville.” Rarity smiled sweetly as she searched for a place to set the shirts aside. “Dare I say, maybe you’ll make more friends whilst here.”

With hesitation he took hold of the finely tailored suit, “More?”

“Well, you’re free to inform my sister that you’re not.” She smirked wryly, tilting her head. “Be warned though, if I find her crying in her room you’ll have to contend with me.”

He huffed in amusement, setting aside the pants. “I’ll concede to having a few friendly acquaintances, one of whom certainly trying her best to change me.” He undid his potion belt, shaking his head, “I am more than content with my current way of life. My work is life-saving, I’ve achieved high status, I’m a self-made, well respected man, what else could I want?”

“Perhaps to live until you’re thirty?” she quibbed, arching a brow. “And I’m only trying to help, dear heart. You focus so much on your own image, what you stand for, but when I, somepony that specialises in changing images for the better offers assistance, you side step the issue.”

He set his jaw, catching his frown in the mirror. The shirt… actually looked good. His scowl lessened. “I didn’t realise you were a counsellor alongside an artise, I hope I’m not going to pay extra for that.”

She vented her exasperation through a quiet sigh; it was like talking to a stone wall. Fortunately she was already sneaking in. “Ponies are beginning to accept that you are here to stay. Why not try to show that you’re just like us and not some brute with authority.”

“It’s less that and more that I’m different.” He pulled up the new pants, enjoying the smooth fabric touching his powerful thighs.

“Not anymore,” she pressed with a frown. “The fact that you’re not a pony pales compared to your disposition towards the rest of town. It’s more that you hide behind a mask.”

He scoffed at the notion and refocused on fitting the new belt. He had to admit it was his favourite piece, what with the practicality of the pockets. If he were to attend a formal event without his armour at least he could be both stylish and armed. He then slipped into the arm of the doublet.

“Funny, Miss Fluttershy said the same thing.” He stopped to look to the ceiling in recollection. “Well, she got her point across before mumbling to herself.”

“She means well, we all do.”

“I’m fine as I am, perfectly content.”

“Does that mean you’re happy?”

Silence. He sneered and fastened the viridian tie. What in Equestria was this about? He came here for a coat and yet he here was trying on a new suit. She was a cunning mare if because he played along. He expected it after seeing the suit but this talk was getting rather personal. Was being content not a form of happiness? He didn’t wallow in self-pity nor slip into depression. Sure, he would love for his parents to get off his back, and even in recent time Blueblood has been pestering for Vincent to ‘expand his circles’ more. Hypocrite. Still, Fluttershy’s words haunted him.

He looked to the mask that hung on the racking, it’s hallow eyes staring back. One Windsor knot (as his father called it) later and he was already buttoning the fashionable doublet up.

“Vincent?” Rarity took a tentative step towards the opening of the little enclove, ears flat and lip chewed. “I apologise if I over stepped my bounds.” Perhaps she had gone overboard with this. ‘Oh dear, darn it all, Rarity!’ She mentally scolded herself.

Startled by Rarity his mind fell blank. He needed something to talk about. The suit! He faced the mirror.

“I’m fine! The suit’s…”

His words died in his mouth, for there was no mistaking the human form looking back in absolute wide-eye terror. He was dapper in fashion but his demeanour meek, like a timid mouse. Ser Vincent recognised it and, out of curiosity, stood straight and tall, proud and refusing to be seen as less. And it shocked him.

It was certainly something he’d thought he’s never see: Ser Vincent, dressed to impress. His timber hair was a mess but the air of respect was unmistakable. His malachite eyes glistened above the soft edged nose, thin lips and rounded chin. The jawline was harsher and he was with bronzing stubble. The doublet hugged his built figure, the colours befitting the palace he had lived in, and the belt was a welcomed flair. He looked half as confident his father did every day.

Henry Costello was also a self-made man in Equestria. A charmer, a silver tongued ‘devil’, excellent cook – a good man gone a bit mad but the best dad Vincent could ask for. The knight was the polar opposite, lacking the confidence but having adapted to the world. Though, he supposed he got his drive, his sense of ambition, and unstoppable determination from his father. Certainly his morals, at least.

But… to see himself with but a shred of confidence his father held daily, to seem almost as normal shook Vincent to the core. He… he needed the mask and coat, it gave him the common decency of others beyond Canterlot. But he had a reputation now, as a good knight, in parts of Equestria. ‘As well as here in Ponyville.’

That made him step back from the mirror, jade eyes unsure of what he was seeing. His mind was torn; he was fine with just the mask and hood, but what if didn’t need them? What if him hiding was him being self-deluded?! What if, after all these years, he had been making a complete, UTTER FOOL of himself, humiliating himself to his peers?

He knocked the screen and snapped like a python with a bear-trapped-maw, his breath ragged.

“Vincent, are you okay?”

“I-I believe so.” His soft baritone voice was beginning to leak his emotions.

“Are you having trouble with the suit?” she asked, studying the fingers that gripped the edge. Very fragile looking things, so thin too.

He released the screen and put a hand to his forehead, “It’s not for m—“ Having his fingers touch his brow outside his room startled him. “I don’t think the doublet's for me, but the rest are wonderful, especially the belt.” He sighed and undressed.

“That’s fine.” Rarity nodded in thought. It was designed for the client, Ser Vincent, so if he did not desire it then she could concede. “I’ll keep it on hold before designing another ensemble, in case you change your mind.”

Moments later, he was back in his amour and sporting the revitalised coat, alongside his new belt. His alchemy belt was slung over his shoulder. With his hood up he stared into the mask in his gloved hands. He pondered over its true necessity to his life, what it gave and took. He scowled.

“Rarity,” he said called with conviction from behind the screen.

She was packing everything but the doublet into separate bags on the other side of the room. She looked back. “Yes, darling?”

“Since we last spoke I’ve been thinking and concluded that I need a new image.” He conceded a nod and pocketed his mask as far as he could into his coat, half of it spilling out. “I’d like for this town to be at ease with my presence.” He stepped out of the enclosure.

Rarity ceased packing with her magic, her smile faltering at the absence of his mask. Sapphire met emerald and she smiled.

“If that means I must temporally part with the mask then so be it.” He studied her features, disconcerted by lack of disgust or horror in that genuine smile. After her flash of mild surprise it was the last thing he expected.

“Well good evening, Ser Vincent,” she began whilst curtsying in her cocktail dress, “How wonderful to see you again.” Her grin turned playful at his disbelieving smirk. “Good choice, dear.”

His confidence faltered and he massaged the back of his hood. “Don’t expect a grand announcement, Rarity. I’m only doing this in small instances, like here or the library.”

She nodded with an amused snort, “Small steps, Vincent, small steps.” A sweet smile graced her as she approached. “I’m honoured that you trust me.”

He rolled his eyes, “Any other course of action is redundant given that you’ve already seen me.”

She tittered, like a wind chime caught in a summer breeze. “I’m glad you finally realised it.”

The door burst open and in strolled Sweetie Belle, looking tired.

“Hey, Rarity.” It was then that she noticed Ser Vincent without his mask and instantly she beamed up to him. “Hi, Ser Vincent! Here to pick up your coat?”

Vincent blinked at the unfazed child. “Yes, and I’ll be making a purchase too.”

“See told you, you aren’t scary without the mask.” Sweetie Belle said, wiping her hooves on the mat. She perked up, ears standing tall and tail swishing excitedly, “We can have that tea party!”

“Um, well, you see, Miss Belle…” Vincent struggled, looking to Rarity for support.

She had her arms folded under her bust and a snowy hand reaching up to cradle her cheek, an amused expression daring him to decline the offer silently.

“Please!” Sweetie Belle begged as she approached, voice innocently sweet.

He winced and scrunched his face. “I suppose a small drink will do. I’ve even brought the wind-light you left behind.” He winced at her cheer, smiling despite himself when she scampered off upstairs. When Rarity laid a hand on his shoulder he tensed, snapping his focus to her.

“Wind-light?” she inquired.

He calmed himself. “A gemstone that can emit light when moving through the air, something novel but incredibly useful.” He shook his head at her smile. “Can’t say I’ve ever been to a tea party as a guest.”

“Well, perhaps we can go back to discussing plans for the weekend,” Rarity offered as she sauntered passed. He let her soft touch linger, her lilac perfume heavily present without the mask. She turned towards the door. “I’ll close up for the moment. It would be shame for anypony to disturb the knight attending the tea party.”

Ser Vincent groaned, rubbing his eyes as Rarity chuckled warmly into a hand.