Sitting down had unintentionally caused Artifex’s leg to stiffen up. He moved once again with a well-developed limp, but he was quick to wave off any offers for help. In his head, moving whatever equipment Vinyl had wouldn’t be too much trouble; so long as the others helped.

He grunted as he began pushing a cart with a massive speaker. The wheels made it smoother to move, but he had to grit his teeth against the discomfort of pushing off of his left leg. With himself obscured by the speaker, and everyone else busy moving and transporting whatever they could (it wasn’t much, thank goodness), his grunt went mostly unnoticed.

But Vinyl had clearly heard him, and walked up beside him, concerned. “Is it your leg?”

“Hmph. Yeah, but I can manage.” He blinked. “Wait. You can talk?”

“Well, duh.” He saw her eyes roll behind her glasses. “Of course I can.”

“I was under the impression that you were mute.”

“That’s just because I don’t want to talk.”

“Right. Anyway, could you give me a hand?”

She could give two, at the very least, and did fall quiet once they began pushing. From the side of the speaker, Artifex saw Pinkie hold open the door. He and Vinyl wheeled in the device, hearing the click-clack of the wheels as they hit the floor. Vinyl nodded to herself, then headed back to her car to grab some other supplies.

“Alright. What next?” Artifex asked Pinkie.

“Next, we set it up! Do you think you can lift it?”

“I don’t think anyone could, Pinkie.”

“That’s okay! We can still plug it in. Here, let me show you where to put it.”

They moved the cart so that it was in the right corner of the bakery, nestling it as comfortably as possible between the corner booths. Pinkie procured an electrical cord, then plugged one end into the speaker, and the other into the wall socket.

Artifex gazed up at the device. “Um… are you sure this building has enough energy to power this thing?”

“Of course it does! I mean, if you disregard the chance of a citywide blackout occurring, that is!”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m joking!” She cocked her head. “Maybe. Anyway, let’s test it out!”

From her hair, she pulled out a microphone. She plugged in the jack to the corresponding port on the speaker. She took a deep breath, before shouting into the mic, “CAN EVERYONE HEAR ME?”

Artifex was suddenly flung aside by the force of the sound. He couldn’t even hear himself groan as he crashed onto the floor. A ringing held strong in his ears, and as he struggled to regain his footing, he was aware of an obvious shaking beneath him. Around the Corner, the others clutched their heads and recoiled, eyes clenched and pained cries escaping their lips.

Pinkie appear unfazed. “IS THAT A YES?” she shouted. Sharp feedback rocketed from the speaker, silencing all thought. Several light bulbs cracked under the power.

The pink-haired girl paused, looking around. She moved the mic away from her mouth, frowning. “Huh, it seems louder than normal.”

Even though the mic was now an arm length away from her, it still managed to pick up her voice. The windows vibrated dangerously.

Vinyl walked up to Pinkie, also unfazed, but with a frown on her face. Going past her, she stepped up the speaker. Her hand reached out and grasped a protruding knob, then twisted it down. She grabbed the microphone out of Pinkie’s hand. Tapping it twice, then blowing a little, she nodded, seeing that the noise level was, at the very least, bearable.

“Ooh,” Pinkie said, smiling brightly. “It was on full volume!”

Artifex slowly got up; his leg ached, but he ignored it. Casting a look behind him, he saw that Swift had his hands on his ears and was speaking with Clyde.

“WHAT?!” he shouted. “I CAN’T QUITE HEAR YOU THROUGH THIS RINGING IN MY EARS!”

“Give it a second, Swift!” Clyde said back, a little louder than normal. “The ringing will go away!”

“WHAT?!”

Artifex turned back to Pinkie. “‘Full’ is an understatement.”

“Ah, it’s no biggie. Besides, we’ve still the other equipment to set up, don’t we?”

Artifex nodded, but kept a stiff jaw. He suddenly regretted not bringing earplugs.

Eventually, they set everything up, doing their best to keep the volume as low as possible. Vinyl set up her booth quickly, playing a few tunes to fill the songless void. Despite the bouncing and bounding beats, they rested easily in the background, no longer a distraction.

With everything set up, and the glass debris swept away, the requirements had been met. All they had to do was wait.

But the question now became just how long they needed to wait. A glance at the clock showed that nearly two hours had passed since Artifex had arrived. The party was scheduled to begin at around 9:30; it was now 9:15.

Mild regret filled Artifex’s stomach. He should have had No Clue’s number, if only to ask what was taking him so long. Surely the boy could keep track of an appointment; surely his name wasn’t a true testament. Nonetheless, the worry was on everyone’s minds, especially Pinkie’s.

The two of them were in the far left corner of the bakery, standing up. “Are you sure he’s coming?” she asked him once everything had settled down.

“I thought I’m supposed to ask you that,” Artifex responded. He arched his back, stretching, then fell back into a neutral stance. He stared out the window. “I’m fairly certain he doesn’t live that far from here. What could be keeping him?”

Pinkie tapped her chin. “Hmm. Is he allowed to go to parties, I wonder?”

“I believe so. I’ve had no reason to think otherwise.”

Rainbow came up behind Pinkie. “You guys talking about No Clue?” They nodded, and she sighed. “Yeah, me too. I didn’t think he’d be the late type.”

“Technically, it isn’t ‘late’ yet,” mused the young man in front of her. “So, maybe he’s just left now.”

“It stinks that we don’t have his phone number,” Pinkie groaned. “Darn it! Time always gets in the way of partying!”

“Knowing you, Pinkie,” Rainbow said, “you’d find some way to get around time in order to party.”

That earned a light, but fleeting smile from Artifex. He continued to watch the outdoors.

He wished he had his notebook with him. Writing did its best to bring him solace, and he figured a little scribbling wouldn’t hurt anyone. Unfortunately, as he was all-too-well aware, all he had was his cane. It hardly constituted for writing material.

Francis circled around his legs, then looked up and meowed. Artifex bent over and picked him up, cradling him his arms. “Getting antsy, are we?” he asked, as the cat squirmed ever so slightly against him. “Yeah, me too, Francis. Don’t worry; I’m sure you’ll meet No Clue soon.”

Francis surprised him by growling loudly. He stuck out and waved his paw at something coming from their right. A second later, Artifex saw a pair of copper headlights shine over the crest of the road, revealing a sedan not unlike the one No Clue’s mother had driven.

“Is that him?” asked Pinkie, having also seen the incoming car.

“I think so!” Rainbow cheered. “Yes! Now we can get this party started!”

Artifex smiled, scratching behind Francis’s ear. “Good catch, Francis.”

“C’mon! Let’s go greet him!” Rainbow pulled him away from the window, rushing herself and the boy out the doors.

Artifex stumbled on his limp, but managed to keep himself held up long enough for the car to be within Rainbow’s shouting distance. She placed two fingers in her mouth and whistled, waving her other arm. “Hey! No Clue! Over here!” she called.

The car grew closer, but the windows were too dark to see through. Artifex struggled to recall if No Clue’s mother’s car had tinted windows. Perhaps this was his father’s, then, or a relative’s.

The exact details didn’t matter, for the car began to slow down. It was a surprisingly a gentle stop, and the car pulled neatly to the side of the sidewalk. The car hummed once more, then simmered down with a click. The lights died down just as the car did.

Artifex moved past Rainbow, glad to see that No Clue was finally here. “Here, let me get the door,” he said, once he heard the click of the unlocking mechanism. A silhouette nodded back at him; it seemed familiar, yet also different. He shook the thought away, and reached out to grab the handle.

He pulled it open, a welcoming smile on his face.

It effortless melted into a look of complete shock.

A taller, poofy-haired woman with a knowing smirk on her lips stepped out. She wore a lilac-purple dress and skirt. Her lips parted into an almost predatory, confident smile.

“Surprised to see me, I see,” the woman said. The other door behind her opened, revealing a pig-tailed woman with a green jacket.

Artifex struggled to gather his thoughts. He stared at her for a few seconds, before stuttering, “A-Adagio?”

“The one and only. Hello, Chronicler. Or, should I say, Artifex Frost.”

“How did you—Sonata, right?”

“I love my sister, but lord, she can’t keep a secret all that well,” Adagio said. She frowned. “We’re not too late, are we? I had wanted to leave earlier, but it was harder than I expected to convince Aria to come.”

“I still don’t want to be here,” said Aria over her shoulder.

Artifex avoided Adagio’s gaze, looking past her into the back of the car. He squinted, attempting to look through the opaque glass, but to no avail.

Adagio tapped him on the shoulder, but he did not turn around. “Looking for something? I didn’t bring a weapon, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“For someone,” he murmured, leaning back over. “I was almost expecting to find No Clue in your car.”

The ex-Siren leader cocked her head, frowning again. “No Clue? I don’t believe I know of any person with that name.”

“Really? Does Nostradamus Clue ring any bells?”

“None at all.”

Artifex huffed, falling silent. He crossed his arms, not realizing that the situation had become awkwardly stiff.

Adagio cleared her throat. “Anyway. I presume that we’re holding the party right about now?”

Her voice snapped him out of his reprieve. “Yeah. You were invited—this time?” he quickly added.

She adopted a playful smile. “Yes. I made sure to have an invitation on hand.” Reaching into her pocket, she brought out a gold-white envelope. Opening it, she revealed Pinkie’s handwriting. “She couldn’t hand it to me personally,” Adagio explained, “so she had Sonata give it to me. I said I would think it over.”

Artifex nodded, still unsure of how to react. “Well, that’s good and all, I suppose. Anyway, would you like to come in?”

“Gladly,” she said. “Would you like to lead the way?”

Something in her tone made his lips twitch. “If you wish it. Aria?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll follow.”

Turning, he was abruptly stopped by an elbow from Rainbow. “Psst! Is No Clue in there?” she asked. She wasn’t particularly discreet about it, as Adagio raised an eyebrow at the second mention of the name.

Artifex shook his head. “He must be coming much later than we thought.”

“Oh… that stinks.” Rainbow heaved a sigh. “Well, what can you do.” She headed back inside.

Artifex heard Adagio hum. “Something tickle your fancy?” he asked, looking back.

“Someone, more-like,” she responded. “But that can wait. Shall we get going?”

“We shall.” Together, they entered Sugarcube Corner once more.

Francis settled into Adagio’s lap like he had been there his whole life. He had made no fuss as he was introduced to the girl, and had eagerly set about displaying his affection towards her. In no time at all, he had warmed up to her, then fell asleep in her arms. Uncharacteristically, Adagio had on a small smile as she watched the cat sleep; a smile that did not reflect on the two others who were with her.

“How’d you do that?” Sonata exclaimed. “I mean, sure, Francis liked me, but he hadn’t been this affectionate!”

Driving the point home, Francis suddenly yawned, licked his lips, then buried his face back into Adagio’s dress.

The ex-Siren leader leaned back into the booth, still smiling. “I don’t know, Sonata. Maybe Francis just has an eye for beauty.”

A strange saying came to Artifex’s mind. “Cats of a coat color hiss together.”

“Well, now,” Adagio said playfully, “you really think I’m a cat, Artifex?”

He leaned back, crossing his arms. “It would certainly explain your personality.”

“Hmm? You mean my exotic and graceful self?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of ‘temperamental and spoiled.’”

“Mm. I see.” She seemed unaffected by the insults. “Well, if we consult the same list of adjectives, I suppose that another word to use would be ‘sultry.’ Wouldn’t you agree, dear Francis?”

Francis purred quietly, and Adagio’s smile grew ever so slightly. “I must say, you’ve raised him well, Artifex.” She raised an eyebrow. “So well, in fact, if what Sonata is saying is indeed true, that you can ‘talk’ with him?”

Artifex shrugged. “Not quite. I can’t talk with him. I can understand sort of what he’s saying based on his behaviors, and he’s gradually begun to understand what I myself say.”

“And you still have to teach me how to do that!” Sonata said.

Artifex was about to retort, when Pinkie’s voice cut in. “Hey, guys! Wanna try the cake?”

“Ooh! Sure!” Sonata exclaimed, getting up. “Do you guys want any?”

“Not right now,” Artifex said.

“I’m fine,” said Adagio.

“Oh. Okay. More for me!” Sonata paused, then looked to the cat on Adagio’s lap. “I suppose it’d be rude to ask if Francis would like to come along for dessert?”

Upon the mention of the word, the cat sprang up, suddenly and completely alert. He gave Sonata the most pleading look he could muster; her heart gave way. “Oh, I could never say no to that face! C’mere,” she said, scooping him up, “let’s get ourselves some cake, okay?”

Once they were gone, Adagio let out a light laugh. “Maybe she speaks ‘cat’ better than she thinks she does.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she picked up something after several hundred years,” Artifex replied.

A not-entirely awkward silence fell between them. Its unconscious influence made Artifex instinctively look away, staring out of the side window. His mind drifted.

“Found something interesting to look at?” Adagio said.

“Mmm,” was all he said. Truthfully, he hardly had registered the many people that walked or drove by them.

Adagio didn’t reply immediately, and the silence increased to chasm-like proportions.

Moments passed. The silence became heavier and heavier. Artifex sensed the chasm widening.

I have to say something, Artifex thought. But what? What exactly can I say?

“You don’t seem happy to see me.”

Her voice was subdued—uncharacteristically subdued. She sounded almost defeated, worn down. It was enough of a shock to cause Artifex to abruptly turn around to face her.

Her face didn’t match her voice, but he noted that there was some stiffness in her expression. Her smile was slightly smaller. Her eyes looked slightly to the side of him.

“Pardon?” he said.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Adagio said, waving a hand and leaning back. “It makes sense, I suppose. I mean, we may have reconciled our differences on the day we first met, but I suppose you still weren’t ready to see me.”

“I—”

“My fault, really. I expected that after all the trouble I had gone through just trying to help you, you’d at least show some amount of gratification.”

Trouble? What does she mean?

“However, judging your bewildered expression—” Her smirk returned, but it was strained. “—you had no idea that I was doing anything.”

“Adagio. What are you talking about?”

She kept silent at first, and Artifex assumed he would have to press her further. He leaned slightly forward, intending to question her; then, she spoke up:

“On the first rainy day of the month, do you remember what happened?”

Memories flashed in his mind, of a strange, tall man, with a terrible choice of clothing and a terrible want for chaos. “I do.”

“How do you think your teacher and the principals had arrived so quickly?”

“Mr. Solil’s meeting had finished,” he surmised, “and the principals were already aware that Discord was in the building.”

“An adequate conclusion,” she said, “but consider this. Mr. Solil’s meeting had just finished, but he was in the break room getting coffee. And Principal Celestia and Vice Principal Luna weren’t even aware that Discord was in the school.”

Artifex considered her words. “I suppose that’s one possibility. But… where are you going with this?”

“Oh, Artifex. Come now; surely you’d have figured it out by now?” Her smile returned; and it was somehow warm. “Think about it. Where am I going with this?”

“You could just tell me.”

“I could.”

“But you won’t.”

“I won’t.”

“Why?”

“Because it should be obvious what I mean.”

Artifex sighed, closing his eyes. He went over the memory again and again, trying to piece together the images that burned vibrantly in his head and what Adagio had suggested. It didn’t take long.

“I remember… seeing something orange right in front of the door,” he said. “I had thought it was just my mind playing tricks, especially since I had just seen red a moment before. Then, right after I had seen the color, Mr. Solil and the principals barged in.” He pursed his lips. “The strange thing is I think I’ve seen that orange before. It was a large orange, and not a concrete one.”

“Not concrete? How so?”

“It had hues, I think. They were all flashes and snippets, but there was something unique about each instance.”

Looking up, he found Adagio smiling at him.

“… It was you.”

“Indeed it was.”

He blinked. She wasn’t lying; he could somehow tell. The facts; they matched up with her suggestion. It made sense; so much sense, that he knew it couldn’t be a simple matter of coincidence.

She had been there; she had been actively helping him.

“But why?” he asked.

Her fingers laced together, and she adopted a more serious frown. “Why, indeed. I don’t really know myself.”

“How can you not? You did what you did of your own volition.”

“I’ve done many things of my own will, Artifex. I attempted to enslave an entire school using Equestrian magic. Before that, I used my power to make ponies fight one another. Even more recently, I cornered you willingly, making you uncomfortable.” Her bright-amethyst eyes narrowed. “Every time I did something, it was out of a desire to be powerful. And you know this.”

Unsure what she was completely trying to say, he nodded.

“The point is, I have never done anything out of a desire to do good. It was all for me, and me alone.” Her frown straightened into thin lips. “So, indeed, why did I help you? Maybe it was because I knew what Discord was like; or, at least, the Equestrian version of him. Maybe I didn’t like his human counterpart, and just wanted to shake him up a little bit. Maybe I just didn’t have much of a reason, and just did what I did, because I felt like it.”

“That sounds like a cop-out,” Artifex said. “You’re a driven person, Adagio. You do things because you think you can do them.”

“Do I? I suppose I sound like Sunset Shimmer in that regard. Nonetheless, if I don’t know my own reasons for helping you, then the reason or reasons must not exist.”

He shook his head. “I don’t buy it. That isn’t like you.”

“Oh?” Her voice became tight, irritated. “And you think you know me?”

Did he?

He looked down, covering his face with his icy-blue hair. Did he know anything about Adagio? All he had was barely a day’s worth of experience with her; the rest, he learned from other sources. Could he say he knew who Adagio was as a person, if he hadn’t had the opportunity to interact with her as a person?

The question brought a sour taste into his mouth, and he realized why. It was the wrong question to ask, because he already knew the answer.

“I do know you,” he said, voice steady but filled with surprising conviction.

Looking up, he saw Adagio blink, obviously surprised. “Y-you think you do?”

“I do,” he reiterated, now looking directly at her. She huffed and crossed her arms; but he sensed that a part of her, no matter how small, wanted to know what he meant.

He began with clarification.

“You already tried to control two worlds, so I can’t say for certain that you’re entirely good. After all, from what I can gather, the only regret you have from both attempted takeovers was losing.”

“Thank goodness for that,” she said dryly.

“Ah, but there is some goodness in that; or, at least unintentional goodness, depending on how you look at it. Put simply, you feed on emotions like an animal feasts upon another animal. It’s a survival mechanism; it’s how you ‘eat,’ which is the closest analogy I can imagine. In objective terms, you were doing what you had to do in order to survive in a world that was without a steady supply of sustenance. Equestrian magic must have been like a buffet course for you.”

“Hmph. If only more people thought like you, Artifex. Then maybe I wouldn’t have been defeated.”

“But it wasn’t just for you,” he continued. “No, in fact, it was never just for you. If you so wished it, you could have tried to get that Equestrian magic—that food source—all for yourself, without your sisters.”

“And if I had, I would have failed,” she responded. “The three of us, if we combined our powers, could counter nearly any threat!”

“Really? Three Sirens would mean three ways to divide the food between yourselves. But if only one Siren had access to the food, then she’d get more food. That would mean she’d get more power.”

“It doesn’t work like that. If only one of us could use that power, we’d have a harder time controlling everyone. Multiple magic users still have a wider range of influence than just one, all-powerful magic user.”

“So you admit that one Siren with all that power is stronger than three sharing that same power?”

“I… well—”

“So you shared your power, even knowing that you could have taken it all for yourself. Why’d you do that, do you think?”

She opened her mouth to respond, but he didn’t let her. “Because you three were sisters. You three were family. And even though you bickered and fought, you still stuck together. If you had taken all that power for yourself, then your sisters would have either been severely weakened, or died. And you couldn’t let that happen.”

She frowned. “Are you done?”

He smiled dangerously back at her, to his own, hidden confusion. Why was he getting excited about trying to prove Adagio wrong? “I’ve just asserted that you have done some good things before. Do you really think I’d stop there?”

“I’m beginning to think that coming here was a bad idea.”

“Oh, trust me. You’ve probably done a lot of ‘bad ideas’ before.”

“Don’t remind me. What were you saying?”

“Let’s take a trip down memory lane for a little bit. Remember six days ago? Judging by your eyes, yes, you do, of course; how couldn’t you? But let’s skip the unpleasantness that came with that day; let’s skip to the end.”

“The party.”

“Yes, the party. You could have not gone at all; you weren’t obligated, and you knew that if you came, you weren’t necessarily to be welcomed with open arms. So why’d you come?”

“Because I had to apologize… to you.”

“Precisely!” Artifex leaned back, crossing his arms, smirking. “You came, to apologize, to me. Even though, I would imagine, you’d guessed that I wouldn’t forgive you so easily.”

“But you did.”

“But I did! Now, can you tell me why I forgave you?”

It didn’t take long for Adagio to recall his exact quote. “‘If you earnestly want to apologize to me, that must mean you do mean it, and that your apology is sound and from the heart.’” She cocked her head. “You have a nasty habit of knowing how to deliver a speech.”

“I have no idea where I get that from. But that’s beside the point.” Now he leaned forward, resting his elbows a good length from each other, and placing his chin between laced fingers. “You did those things even though you didn’t have to. You did them because you wanted to. Because you felt that you had to, no matter the consequences.” He leaned back, smiling. “Admittedly, I really don’t know much about you from you, especially since all the stories I’ve been hearing are, as I said, from third-party sources. I don’t know your favorite color, or your favorite drink, your favorite type of music, or whatever. I don’t know those things. But what I do know is that bit of you that you demonstrated in your refusal to leave your sisters to die—the same bit that you showed me when you came to the party and apologized. And let me tell you, just knowing that ‘bit’ means I know a lot about you than you might think.”

A satisfied grin now rested on Artifex’s face. Adagio had fallen silent in the face of his explanation. It appeared that she was at an utter loss for words.

When she spoke again, she seemed to have accepted the explanation. “You ought to be a preacher, Artifex,” she jeered. “You’ve certainly the voice and belief.”

Something in her voice made him feel a flush of heat run across his face, and he quickly pushed it away.

“Ah, but don’t look so smug, now,” she continued. “Answer me this, Artifex: so what?”

Artifex blinked. “Pardon?”

“I asked, so what? What does it matter whether or not I did those things out of the goodness of my heart? That wasn’t the original topic of this conversation. The topic was why did I helped you.”

She leaned forward, disarmingly smiling. “So, tell me, Artifex: what do the purposes of my past actions have to do with my present ones?”

He opened his mouth; and hesitated. Then he closed it. His smile slowly melted into a pensive curve.

Adagio nodded to herself, leaning back and now adopting a satisfied composure. “Ah. So you can’t answer?”

“No, I cannot,” he said, gazing at her. “But that just leaves us back at square one.”

“Does it?” There was a prompting in her voice, like she was pushing him down a certain path—the path that she chose for him.

He shrugged. “Clearly you’ve thought of something. Why don’t you enlighten me?”

Adagio tapped the side of her head. “If what you say is true, about all that I did up until the day after we initially met, then we can apply it here. I helped you out without you knowing not because I had to, but because I had to. Does that make sense?”

“It’s your reason; it’ll make sense to you.”

“Oh, but it doesn’t. Don’t you see, Artifex? I don’t know why I helped you. I just did. It was probably one of the first times I did something only for the sake of doing it; beyond that, I have no real, concrete reason or reasons.”

“Which, once again, leaves us back to square one of this confusion conversation. How did it begin, anyway?”

She ignored the question. “I wouldn’t say it leaves us back at the start, Artifex. You’ve come to your conclusions, which have led to mine. We’re left off with something more, don’t you think?”

Artifex was silent for a little while; then, he said, “I suppose that makes sense…”

“Oh, but why the long face? This wasn’t your issue to begin with.”

“I suppose not. But then again, you were the one who brought it up to me in the first place.”

“I guess I did.”

He let out a sigh. “Still, I can’t help but feel dissatisfied.”

“Really? I’m the one who should be feeling dissatisfied. What on Earth could you have reason to be dissatisfied about?”

“I don’t know.”

“Mm. Perhaps it’s best that way, then.”

He crossed his arms, and looked down, thinking. “So… the reason why you helped was because you just had to,” he reiterated.

A nod responded to him.

He shook his head. “Then this was a strange and pointless talk we had.”

“I agree.”

He looked up, and found a smile upon her. It was visibly more relaxed than when she had first sat down and begun talking.

“You are a strange woman, Adagio.”

“And you are as equally strange of a man, Artifex. Or has that not already been determined?”

The corners of his lips twitched, before they curled up into a smile.

“Uh, are you guys okay?” Sonata asked, coming back to the booth. An orange ball of fur rested between her crossed arms. Her hands held four plates. “I, uh… well, you guys were getting pretty intense.”

“I believe we are fine, Sonata,” said Adagio, giving a wink towards Artifex’s direction. “We were just… having a conversation.”

“It sounded pretty heated. Are you guys still mad at each other?”

“I could never be mad at Artifex. But I can’t speak for him, can I?”

“We’re fine, Sonata… I think.” He looked back at Adagio, the smile still on his face. “Just… getting to know each other, in a way.”

The ball of fur uncurled before him, revealing Francis in Sonata’s arms. The ex-Siren hummed. “Hey, can you scooch in for a sec? I wanna sit down.”

Artifex did. Sonata sat down lightly, carefully placing the plates down. “I know you guys said you didn’t want anything,” she said, “but Pinkie pretty much insisted.”

“It’d be rude to deny it now, would it?” Adagio commented. She took her plate, analyzing the cake. “Is this mousse?”

“Yep,” answered her sister. She picked up her own spoonful. “It’s pretty good.”

“We’ll see. I’m not too big of a fan of mousse myself.”

“You sick freak,” Artifex dared to jest, and Adagio laughed.

“Alright. If it’ll get you to calm down, dear Artifex, I’ll give it a taste and try not to throw up.”

She took a bite, chewing it slowly, then swallowing. “Well?” asked Artifex.

She shrugged. “Well, I suppose it’s gotten better over the years. It’s at least edible—more edible compared to the garbage I ate years ago.”

“Thanks, Dagi!” Pinkie managed to yell from all the way from the kitchen.

“… We’re not going to ask how she heard us, are we?” Adagio asked.

“Nope,” answered the boy across from her, digging into his own plate, “we are not.”

He ate his piece slowly, relishing the taste. Sure, he had had mousse very recently, but he loved it whenever he could have it. Sonata chomped down on hers; Adagio joined in at a slower pace.

They talked, mostly around their food that was in their mouths. It wasn’t too substantial of a conversation. Mostly it was just catching up. Artifex relayed what Adagio had said to him to Sonata, and the teal-haired girl beamed. “Aw! That was really nice of you, Dagi!”

“Don’t remind me,” said her sister. “Ugh. You kids have been having quite the influence on me.”

She then went on to tell the boy what had been happening since they last talked—it wasn’t much, as it turned out. Between attending school and going home, they were looking for jobs. “Without our powers, we’re just ordinary human beings,” Adagio explained. “We may be much older than we look, but we still need to find some way to sustain ourselves.”

Artifex frowned. “You’re not homeless or anything, are you?”

“Hardly. We’ve a relatively large condo just down the city’s Fifth Avenue.” Noting his continued frown, she added, with a slight smirk, “It was legally bought.”

“Oh, good,” he said dryly.

Beyond work, there wasn’t much to say. School became part of their daily lives (they excelled at history, to no one’s real surprise) as much as it did for every other student. But the need for finding a job to bring in a steady stream of money meant that they hadn’t much time for recreational activities. “We were only just able to come to the party today because we thought it’d be a good idea to take a break.”

“Though you were nearly late, thanks to Aria, if I’m remembering correctly.”

“I heard that!” yelled the angry ex-Siren from the other side of the bakery. She stood, huffing and glaring at the boy.

“Simmer down, Aria,” Adagio said without looking back. “We’re here to somewhat relax, so be a dear and do so, why don’t you?”

Artifex grinned, then waved at the girl. She fumed, but sat back down, crossing her arms.

“But enough about me,” Adagio said. “What about you, Artifex? What have you been up to? Writing, I would imagine?”

He shook his head. “It’s been a busy week for me, too. Settling in, homework, trying to get comfortable with my surroundings; it’s taken a toll on my free time.” He raised an eyebrow. “Besides, that journal of mine isn’t really for me being a writer.”

“Oh? And what is it for, then?”

“I’d say it’s a recording tool; it helps me go over the day, and think on the future.”

“How positively quaint. Though, I suppose I pegged you to be the introspective sort.”

“Probably the only thing you ever got right about me.”

Adagio met his jest with a mock glare, before softening. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Artifex sensed he touched upon a nerve; and, remembering their prior conversation, shifted the topic elsewhere. “So, work, huh? Any idea where you’d like to find yourself in?”

“I suppose singing of some sort,” she responded, seemingly grateful for the change in topic. “Admittedly, without my amulet, I can’t say that it’s a future I foresee being mine. Though, there might be something else I can do.”

“Really? What is that?”

She grinned, but there was a hint of embarrassment glowing on her cheeks. “Marketer.”

Artifex remained unfazed, even as Sonata giggled. “Makes sense. I’d say you can be persuasive when you want to be.”

“Good to know I’ve at least one person who thinks it isn’t a wholeheartedly irrational decision.” She glared at Sonata, sobering her up.

“What about Aria? Does she have any plans?”

“Surprisingly, yes. You know that car we drove here? She fixed it up herself. I’ve seen her browsing the newspapers and looking at any job that would require some sort of automobile expertise.”

“She’s really good at it, too,” Sonata added. “I mean, if she wanted to, she could probably open a repair shop all on her own; if she wasn’t so lazy.”

“I’m lazy?!” shouted Aria, rising up again.

Sonata blinked. “Well, that was just a guess, but if you think so, too…”

“Grr… I’m gonna—ulp!”

Looking over the booth, Artifex saw that Rarity had suddenly covered her mouth with her hand. She giggled nervously. “Now, now, Aria, dear. There are children upstairs who are sleeping; we wouldn’t want to wake them with upsetting language, now, would we?”

“Mmmph, mmph mmph! Mmnmnph mmmph!”

“There are children?” Adagio asked, getting Artifex’s attention.

He nodded. “Pound and Pumpkin Cake, Mr. and Mrs. Cake’s children. They’re—”

“Cute? Adorable? Loveable little scamps?” Sonata inputted.

Francis hissed.

Artifex rolled his eyes. “I was going to say nice, but clearly Sonata thinks they’re a little more than that, and Francis deplores them.”

“Give him some time,” advised the girl. “I’m sure he’ll grow to love them.”

“Or at least tolerate them, I hope.”

Her responding laugh was light. “And if not, I suppose you could always resort to that peanut butter he so hates?”

“If he forces my hand, yes.”

Francis hissed again. Artifex looked at him. “I’m serious, Francis. You’ve gotta learn that they’re just kids; they do kid things. Like shoving peanut butter onto household pets.”

“Or wailing excitedly when they see you,” Sonata added.

“Or throwing the peanut butter.”

“Or throwing the peanut butter at you while wailing loudly.”

Adagio held up a hand. “Alright, that’s enough teasing. You’re scaring the poor dear.”

Francis gave a grateful meow. Artifex rolled his eyes, but did quiet up.

They finished their pieces, not wanting to fill themselves completely before the last party invitee arrived. The clock continued to tick well past nine; soon it would arrive on ten.

Artifex watched the clock with slight unease. He recalled No Clue’s lateness on their shared first day. The boy had made up for it by arriving on time as best as he could; knowing this, Artifex doubted he was usually late to anything. His absence served as the antithesis to that claim, however, and Artifex found himself doubting his friend’s ability to be available when asked.

No, don’t think that. You shouldn’t assume something based on only a few facts. You don’t have the full story; you can’t reach that conclusion if you don’t have the middle to lead you to it.

Perturbed slightly, he continued to stare at the clock as one end of the fork stuck out from his mouth. As his tongue rolled around it, so, too, did his eyes watch the second hand tick and tick and tick around it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Pinkie was also casting questioning looks to the clock, as if trying to pry out an answer.

“You know, I’m sure if you just ask, the clock could give you the time.”

Adagio’s flash of a grin—and equally flashing of a one-liner—pulled him from his thoughts.

“What are you talking about, Dagi?” Sonata asked, sipping from her smoothie (Where did she get that? Artifex thought). “Clocks don’t talk.”

“She means why I am staring intently at it,” Artifex explained.

“Interested in leaving, are you?”

“Not exactly. Do you remember what I said to you outside; about No Clue?”

“I have ‘no clue’ what you mean.”

“Har har. Do you know anything at all about him, though?”

She shrugged. “Well, he is a male. And judging by both you and Rainbow knowing him, he’s amassed some sort of friend group. Aside from that, nothing.”

“He’s another new kid attending Canterlot High. He arrived a day after I did, so we both started on the same day. He and I go to the same Language Arts class.”

She nodded. “I see. And you were expecting him, then?”

“For a good while now.” Artifex shook his head. “Frankly, I expected him to show up a long time ago. But he hasn’t.”

“You can’t blame him; perhaps he is busy. Though you’d never know for certain, considering you don’t have a way to contact him.”

“That’s what I’ve been thinking. Still… Rainbow’s here. Would No Clue miss up a chance to talk to her?”

The mention of her name brought over Canterlot High’s star athlete. “Huh? Why would he care if I’m here, Artifex? I would have thought he’d be more willing to come if you came, too.”

Realizing he had made a blunder, Artifex quickly said, “Well, it’s just a possibility. Any one of us could be his reason for coming. If he came, that is.” A glance back to the girl in front of him showed she had caught on. She gave him a slight smirk, and he shook his head again.

Once Rainbow left them, Sonata said, “Cheer up, Artifex. Maybe he is running a little late. We all can’t be perfectly punctual.”

“I guess you’re right,” he said, but his face betrayed him; it had a cynical frown, wary.

The clock continued to tick.