Miss Raven had heard the commotion from all the way back in the house office, and had come out just to see for herself what it was all about. What she got was a full, free viewing of Applejack stomping after Ink, Ink shouting at Hazel, Hazel looking confused, and Big Macintosh standing to the side, smiling and blushing. It didn’t take a genius to piece together the pieces.

All it took to restore order was a brief and stern talking-to with the four of them, and at that point, Applejack’s indignation and Ink’s frustration had faded into begrudging pause. Hazel remained oblivious to the damage she’d caused, and Miss Raven felt sorry for her when she saw the two previous girls fix her with death looks; she was thankful that Hazel had not been looking their way when they had. Mac, on the other hand, had the decency to apologize on all of their behalf, though it was hardly necessary; Ink was sincere enough, and Applejack may have been prideful, but she knew when her boots were licked.

She sent them all off to class afterward, before rubbing the bridge of her nose. Her glasses fell by an inch. Somehow, shouting matches in the halls were more of a hassle than magical anomaly. No wonder Celestia was always trying to get her to take a day off; no sense in tiring yourself out over these natural things before the supernatural things occurred. Her boss had said the same thing with the Vice Principal, though unlike Raven, Luna was far more willing to listen (though “far” was a relative term, as in, more lenient to Celestia’s offer but not quite submissive towards it).

Her lips curled into a smile as she remembered that Luna had very recently decided to take up that offer of a day off, and how she had come to Raven in quite the panic over it. Vice Principals went out on dates seldom often; the poor girl hadn’t even gone to lunch with anyone since college. How fitting that now, this Friday, she would be heading off to dinner with the only available bachelor in the school who also happened to have been her first and only boyfriend from way back when—

Miss Raven shook her head. No point in overthinking it. Her day-off had yet to come, if it ever did convince her to take it, and there was much work to be done.

She headed back into the house office and closed the door.

Mac’s limp manifested shortly after the talking-to. He could not hide it. He walked with a slight limp, somewhat similar to Artifex’s, only this time he had no cane with which to assist himself. So he took (rather hesitantly) the second-best option: leaning on Ink as the two of them struggled their way to class.

It was at times like this when he was thankful none of his sisters were around to watch. Applejack… well, she had made her position quite clear only moments before. Apple Bloom? Chances were she’d think it adorable—or be confused and ask too many questions. There was no in-between.

He shuddered to imagine what Granny Smith might say if she caught the two of them like this.

“Sorry,” Ink was saying, drawing him out of his shudder. “About before, I mean. I didn’t mean to overreact.”

“ ‘S fine,” he insisted once again. “No harm done. Don’t let it worry yer sweet little head none, y’hear?”

She paused, only for a moment, and then they went on.

The girl was one to worry; that Mac had figured out on his own, and he also knew that his words would only give her more reason to worry. Thinking that brought a smile to his face that felt almost natural. She stammered apologies all the way to his class, the red of her cheeks making her lilac skin much darker. And he kept insisting that everything was fine, everything was okay.

Somehow he wasn’t annoyed too much by the apologies. In fact, he rather appreciated them and her. But of course he wouldn’t say that. The poor girl was flustered enough.

Mac blinked as he sat down at his chair. Strange. When had he begun to care for Ink? His shoulder felt strangely cold and alone, almost as if it had, in the short time he and she had spent together on the walk, grown used to her company.

He resolved to put the matter out of his head for now, and would revisit it at a later date.

He paused.

I said “yer sweet little head,” didn’t I?

Mac was thankful, then, that people tended not to stare at him.

By lunch time, Ink’s anger had returned, though it was far less explosive than before. A dry Home Economics class tended to do that to a person. But it was still potent enough that the image of a Gaige stricken down and chewing pavement was not altogether unappealing.

There were, however, other thoughts that took up just as much space in her head. They all fixated on Mac and what he had said, and they were as interesting as they were distracting. In those quiet moments between work and relaxation, her thoughts turned to those things, turning them over in her mind, as if examining each and every side, searching for some hidden clue. It struck her how simple what he had said was. They were plain words, spoken earnestly and honestly, so polished that they were almost flat, and yet there was a vibrant strength in them that promised some hidden agenda that was almost entirely in her favor.

She blinked as she thought this while walking down the hall. That was… awfully flowery of her to think, to be sure. ‘Twas the mind of a writer, she supposed, and she almost groaned.

She pushed those thoughts away as she approached the lunchroom. An image of Gaige laughing flashed by; she grinned devilishly. Oh, she was so going to enjoy this…

But just before she opened the cafeteria doors, a familiar voice called out to her.

She turned, surprised, to see Artifex walking towards her (or, rather, limping, but he was limping a little less painfully now, she noticed). Behind him trailed Adagio and… who was that other boy? Oh, right, No Clue, his other friend.

“There you are,” Artifex said as he approached. His hair was somewhat longer now, but just as white. “Judging by the angry look on your face, you remain bothered by what Gaige has said.”

“Is it really that obvious? And you heard?”

“Of course I heard. You were quite… expressive.” He came to a stop on his cane, tilting his head and offering a small, sympathetic smile.

“Applejack was also loud,” No Clue added. “I was at the far end of the hall and even I heard her. She didn’t threaten you, did she? I know she has a temper—”

“I’m fine,” Ink said, nodding her thanks. “We… talked it out.”

“In the company of Mac, of course.” Artifex’s eyes twinkled, and his grin widened a little.

She groaned. “Oh, don’t tell me you believe what Gaige said, too!”

She caught Artifex and Clue give each other sly looks; Adagio, however, remained silent. This was somewhat odd, as Ink expected the former villain to at least chime in once or twice. She seemed to have a fondness for the minor misfortunes of others that bordered sadistic in intent.

“I don’t believe anything,” Artifex said, in a tone that made it clear he enjoyed teasing her. Clue pointedly looked away and began whistling.

She crossed her arms. “You know, if it weren’t for that perfect jawline, I would have slapped you by now.”

He flinched, and she grinned. “See? I can play this game, too!” She did not notice the strange look cross Adagio’s face; she was too busy laughing at the blushing boy.

“Ah, all right. I’ll refrain from teasing you, then, Ink.”

“Yeah, you’d better.”

“Don’t kill Gaige just yet, okay? Or if you do, at least leave some for the rest of us to be irritated from.”

“I’ll call her ‘tool,’ a gift from you to her.”

“I’ll be grateful.”

He and Clue went ahead, but stopped when they realized Adagio hadn’t moved. “Dagi?” Artifex called. Ink wondered if he noticed how soft his voice suddenly became.

The ex-Siren gave one of her signature catty grins. “Oh? Suddenly worried about me, are you?”

“I could always ignore you,” Artifex steadily replied.

“True, but I know you won’t. I’m just too fascinating for you to brush aside.” She flicked her head, hair bobbing in place. “I’ll be fine, dear. I just want to have a little chat with Ink. That’s all.”

Artifex turned to Ink, studying her features; and she in turn studied his. Clear confusion shone through. “Well… all right. Don’t take too long, or else Sonata will take your seat again.”

“I’ll be quick. I promise.”

He nodded, before he and Clue went through the double doors.

Other students walked on by but they paid the pair little attention. Ink saw Sonata perk up at the sight of her sister, before wilting when she caught the distant, almost thoughtful look on her face. She glanced over at Ink, shrugged, before leaving her alone, and it was then that Ink decided she was in some manner of trouble.

With one hand beneath her chin, Adagio regarded her, eyes a little narrowed but grin still present.

“So. Macintosh Apple.”

Ink groaned, “God damn it, not you, too!”

There came her signature cackle that was both teasing and reminiscent of her villainous days. “It’s a fine catch, Ink. That’s all.”

“He’s.”

“Of course. He’s. My mistake.” Adagio flashed her teeth—they were stunningly white, Ink might have said—and winked. “How quick you were to correct me there, Ink.”

“Wh-what?”

Then Ink shook her head. “N-never mind that! If you’re just here to tease me, you’re just lucky I got all of my anger out this morning.”

“So I heard.”

Ink perked up. Adagio’s voice had become noticeably subdued, and she had to move in a little closer to hear it over the cafeteria’s throng.

“So.” Adagio paused; no, she hesitated. Adagio Dazzle never hesitated, as far as Ink knew. “That means you and Artifex—”

“Agh!” Ink buried her face in her hands. “Do people really believe that? We. Are. Not. A. Thing! Really! If that stupid Hazel hadn’t said anything—”

“Whoa, calm down,” Adagio said, putting both of her hands on Ink’s shoulders. “I never really believed that. I just wanted to make sure.”

“Make sure?” Ink raised her head and narrowed her eyes at the ex-Siren. “Why?”

The hands slipped away from her shoulders. Adagio was quiet. It was the kind of quiet that preceded something monumental, something earth-shattering (surely). And, if Ink wasn’t mistaken, she was blushing.

And it was then and there that Ink finally pieced it all together.

“You—”

“Yes, me—”

“—and him—”

“Well, not yet—”

Ink gasped (she was beginning to bear an unhealthy resemblance to Hazel in that regard). Then she developed her own catty grin that could have rivaled the girl before her, and she sneered happily, “I knew it!”

Try as she might, Adagio couldn’t hide her blush any longer. Ink railed tease upon tease on her (“Who’s the Tease Queen now, Adagio?”), and the girl retreated into her bumbling mess of hair.

Ink giggled. “Aw, this is so cute!” And she laughed and laughed as Adagio groaned and slinked back into her hair.

Eventually, both girls settled down. Now they were both smiling. “So…” Adagio attempted, only to have her voice falter.

Ink nodded. “Go for it, girl.”

Adagio nodded as well, but still appeared hesitant. “I can’t do it now. It’s… it’s too soon, and I haven’t thought of a way to—”

She doesn’t know. Ink paused, thinking. “You don’t have to do it now. Maybe wait a week or so.”

“A week or so?” A pause. “Actually, that could work out. We’ve a party coming up and… yes, that… that might work.”

Adagio nodded again. “Thank you, Ink.”

“Oh, um… no problem, Adagio. Um… good… luck?”

It was lame of her to say, for sure, but Adagio nonetheless smiled, and Ink had a vision then: a very sudden and lucid vision: a white dress and an aisle and standing off to the side of them, smiling proudly—then it was gone.

“You, too.”

Adagio’s reply was soft-spoken and gone the next minute, vanished behind the quickly closing cafeteria’s doors. Ink tried to follow it, but it was to no avail. She wondered what she meant.

“Oh, hey, Inky,” came the voice of Gaige, “what was that about handlebars?”

And all thoughts of Adagio promptly left, replaced with a scathing vengeance.