Be a cramped Anon, waiting in an uncomfortable lobby chair. After breakfast, you and Floor sat together on the couch, her leaning into your side with your arm around her shoulders. You mostly just talked about last night. The games you played, the matches fought, and the fact that you tied at the end of it all.

After that, you decided to get a little drawing in, Floor just watching you this time to give more detailed advice. You wore down the eraser on your pencil as you utilized guidelines heavily for the first time. Floor was right though, and you found it much easier to get the proportions of your characters right once you started to build them off of simple geometric shapes.

Before you knew it, it was half past noon and you needed to get ready. Floor gave a small, nervous smile upon being reminded of your meeting, but nodded and wished you luck. Luck for what wasn't clear, but she was sincere and you gave her a head pat.

With a wave over your shoulder, you set out, traveling across town both by foot and bus before arriving at the NEET Inspection Agency HQ. Once there, you were seated and told to wait until you were called, which was ten minutes ago.

"Ms. Index will see you now," the secretary says, getting you to perk up.

"Thanks" you say with a smile, standing from the unbearably short chair and stretching your legs out. Your knees give a satisfying pop as you make your way to the door.

Once you enter, you see your boss behind a desk, sliding one of the cabinets shut before looking up and smiling. "Anon, come in! I'm sorry if you were waiting long. I was finishing up a bit of paperwork and I absolutely hate stopping such things in the middle. I've always been very task-oriented; giving my full attention to one thing at a time."

"It's okay, I wasn't waiting long," you assure, frowning at the short chair meant for you to sit in. Your couch has spoiled you for sitting as it's raised decently from the ground. Resigned, you sit, knees coming halfway to your chest.

"Still, apologies," she says. "It was rude of me."

"Really, it's fine," you assure. "But if you want to make it up to me, maybe tell me what this is about. Not trying to be rude myself, but the chairs here aren't exactly sized for humans."

She blinks, and her mouth makes an 'O'. "I'm sorry, would you like for me to send for a bigger one? I'm sure there's one somewhere in the building."

"No, really, lets just talk about whatever it is the needs talking about," you say, getting her to nod slowly.

"If you're sure," she says, opening a different cabinet to retrieve a folder. "You've been living with Ms. Floor Bored for three weeks now, right? How has that been?"

"Better than expected," you answer. "Not that I was really sure what to expect, but she's a very kind mare. A bit reclusive at first, though a stranger had just moved into her home."

"I'd imagine," Ms. Index agrees, flipping the folder open. "I assume that she's more sociable with you now?"

"Yes, we talk a lot," you begin. "She's actually been helping me shop and cook. I've been teaching her that and she's been teaching me to draw."

"Oh?" the mare starts. "She draws? That's surprising."

You raise a brow. "Why's that? Everyone has a hobby."

"Yes, well, I'd just assume since she lacks a cutie mark that any hobbies she does have would be less... skill-intensive."

You snuff the spark of anger her words ignite and nod. "Yeah, I guess you'd think that. Marks are pretty important to you ponies, after all," you say. "She's actually pretty good though. Maybe not, like, professional, but I think she has some real talent. Who knows, maybe she'll still get her mark in it."

Ms. Index smiles, though it's sad. "That would be wonderful; it's the secret hope of every inspector in this building who forms a rapport with their wards. We all want to see these ponies grow and succeed... but for it to actually happen? It's rare, to say the least."

"But not impossible," you point out. "And Floor really has been improving."

The mare nods. "Yes, you've mentioned teaching her cooking. It's always encouraging to see these ponies learn to become more self-sufficient. She's been showing genuine effort with learning?"

"I believe so. She's enthusiastic, and her grandmother even taught her a new recipe just last night that she was happy about."

Your employer perks up. "She visits her grandmother?"

"Yeah," you confirm. "We've only visited twice so far, but we're making it a habit. Figured it'd be good for Floor to reconnect with her, and it has been."

"So it's a change you've helped make," Ms. Index notes. "She wasn't doing this prior?"

"Uh, no, it had been a while from what I understand. Both mares are much happier now, though."

"That's good. Family and a sense of connection is important for anypony, and their lack is a common factor in why NEETs are more inclined towards suicidal tendencies. It's definitely a step forward in regards to Ms. Floor Bored's mental stability."

Your stomach twists from hearing how casually this mare can talk about suicide, but you remind yourself that she has been doing this job for far longer and has probably seen far too many tragedies. That she has become calloused towards the ugly truth is expected, and probably even necessary for her to be able to still do her job after so many years. Doesn't change the fact that you never want to reach the same mindset.

"So, is there anything else you want to know?" you ask, secretly hoping that she'll say no so that you can go home.

"That's for you to decide," she responds. "Have you been doing anything else?"

"Reading," you answer with a shrug. "We've gone to the library after both visits. Last night we went to the arcade."

"Sounds fun," she comments with a small smile.

You smile yourself. "It was. We spent most of the night there playing games. Floor was so tired after that she actually fell asleep before we made it home, so I ended up carrying her to bed."

"That was sweet of you."

"Eh, it wasn't a big deal," you say, remembering the adorable mare snoozing in your arms fondly. "Really, she's my best friend, so I was happy to do it."

Ms. Index tilts her head slightly. "Your best friend?"

"Um, yeah," you confirm. "Is that a problem?"

She shakes her head. "No, not in itself. She may be your ward, but that doesn't mean you can't form a friendship with her. Why, it's probably even good for her. It's just..."

"It's just..." you repeat, trying to draw out whatever is going through the mare's mind.

She blushes and taps her hooves together. "Well, don't take offense to this, but it's just, these ponies are often starved for attention, and tend to latch on quite fiercely to those who would become their friends. Jealously and envy are common, but often fade with time."

"I... guess I know what you're talking about," you say as you remember how she reacted to your friendship with Page Turner and even the emotional outpouring that very morning. "I've seen some of that with Floor, but I think it's like you said and it's fading, so it's not really a problem you have to worry about."

"That's good to hear," Ms. Index says. "But... an eagerness to please is also common, and there have been cases where inspectors have taken advantage of this fact."

You frown. "Take advantage how? Like taking money?"

"That was one of them," Ms. Index confirms, expression suddenly becoming angry. "Another was even worse... NEETs are starved for affection, both emotional... and physical."

Then it clicks in your head, and you stand, chair tipping over as you do. "Are you accusing me of rape?!" you growl, hands balling up into fists.

The mare throws her hooves up in a placating gesture. "No, no! You misunderstand! I was merely saying that, in the precarious state of mind that she's in, she may think she, or even you want things that she's not of a sound judgment to provide."

You breath in deeply through your nose and let it out through your mouth. "I... understand what you're saying," you begin, letting your hands unclench. "But I promise you, Ms. Index, Floor and I are just friends. I would never take advantage of her like that." Briefly, your mind flashes to some of the times you've given Floor baths, and what thoughts ran through your head, and you have to repress a surge of self-hate.

The mare across from you luckily doesn't see these emotions play across your features as she sighs heavily herself. "I'm sorry, Anon. I know my fears are unfounded. You have a good heart, after all. I was letting past events cloud my thoughts." She looks you in the eye and says, "Still, even if you wouldn't take advantage of her like that, I think it should still serve as a warning. Don't be surprised if Ms. Floor Bored mistakes her affection towards you as something more."

"If that happens," you begin, thinking on the possibility. "... I'll sit Floor down and talk to her. I'll make her understand."

"That's good to hear." Ms. Index waits until you've picked up the chair and have sat back down to speak again. "I'm happy to see you've been taking your new responsibilities so seriously," she says. "And I'm happy with the progress Ms. Floor Bored is making. It sounds like she's well on her way to recovery."

"Yeah," you agree. "She's been doing good."

"Still, I'd like you to stay with her longer as there's still the possibility of relapse."

"Of course," is your stiff agreement.

"I'd like you to report to me at least once a week from now on, however."

"Why?" you ask a little too quickly.

"It's nothing you've done," she assures. "I merely wish to stay up to date from here on out. I take the well-being of all ponies, both under my employ and under my watch, very seriously."

"I understand," you say. "So you want this to be every Monday, or...?"

"That will do. If you still have the letter I sent you, those times will work too, if you can't make it at this time for whatever reason."

"I'll keep that in mind." You make to get up. "So, are we good here, or is there anything else?"

She shakes her head. "No, I've heard enough. It sounds like you're doing quite well," she says, giving you a fond, almost motherly smile. "I'm proud of you, Anonymous."

"Um, thanks," is your awkward answer as you stand.

"I mean it," she presses. "You took on a very serious responsibility with very little time to prepare when you saw a pony in need. It speaks volumes of your character."

This actually has you blushing. "You make it sound more, I dunno, amazing then it actually is. I mean, anyone would have helped."

"But you've gone above and beyond, and you've done a phenomenal job while you've been at it. When this assignment is over, I think there will be a promotion waiting for you."

You're eyes go wide. "That's very flattering, and I'm honored, but seriously, I'm nothing special. You don't have to do that."

She just chuckles and shakes her head. "Modest to a fault, hmm? Well, don't worry, Anon. It's only a thought as of now, nothing is set in stone. And if I do end up offering you a higher position, it will still be up to you to accept it."

"Um, right," you mumble, rubbing the back of your neck.

She just laughs a little louder and makes a shooing motion with a hoof. "You can go now, Anon. I'm sure Floor Bored is eager for her friend to return. I'll see you next week."

"Yeah, next week," you repeat stupidly. "Maybe I'll bring you something Floor and I cooked together. She's improving pretty fast."

"I'll be looking forward to it," she says with smile and nod.

With that, you step out and make your way to the exit of the building, unsure of how to feel.

Be a bored Floor, unsure of what to do after Anon left. It's odd; you've spent the bulk of your adult life alone, content for the most part to simply idle the days away surfing the internet, and yet now, with the apartment to yourself, you just feel lonely.

Remembering just a few hours ago, you shake your head. No, Anon doesn't owe you his company, he can leave whenever he wanted. He doesn't even need to come back if he chooses. You gulp, hoping he'll come back.

Of course he will, but the earlier conversation made you face the sad truth that this arrangement is merely temporary. The most you can do is hope he'll still be your friend when his job no longer forces him to live with you. Again, your head says he will, but your heart whispers word of doubt.

With a sigh, you get up from the couch and go to your room. You look at the computer, but decide to leave it powered off, going to the drawer beneath instead. You aren't really tired, besides a little emotionally, after yet another good night's sleep, so you grab your sketch pad and flip open to a new page before settling on your bed.

Laying on your belly, you ready a pencil and let your hoof move of its own accord. Stars, shapes and lines begin to litter the page as you let your mind wander. Of course, it doesn't take long before your thoughts focus on a certain human. Leaned into his side with his arm around your whithers, just talking. You'd never felt more relaxed.

That you weren't a stuttering, blushing mess is a testament to how comfortable you have grown of Anon's presence. You hardly notice that your drawing has begun to move away from the abstract as you smile warmly. It's not until several minutes later when your hoof stops that you actually look at what you've drawn.

With a blush and feeling as if you're a filly who just wet the bed after so long without an accident, you quickly begin to tear the page out. Going over to your desk, you slide open the drawer and place the sheet inside with your other embarrassing drawings before placing your sketchbook on top. Good on drawing for now, you survey your room, eyes stopping on the computer before you shake your head, still not feeling it.

Instead, you go back to the living room, then the kitchen area to get a glass of water. While you chug it down, you glance at the dish rack of now dry dishes, and get an idea. It isn't much, but it's the least you can do to put the dishes away. It doesn't take long, but you're proud of the small chore you completed and glad you didn't drop any. Still, that leaves you with plenty of time before Anon returns.

Or, at least you suspect so. He didn't know how long it would take. With a sigh, you move over to the couch and sit down. "I'm bored," you whine to the empty room, then snort. "Floor Bored," you add in a shoddy accent. "Secret agent."

With a giggle, you remember the time you had sneaked across the room with underwear on your head, and smile. Then blush when you remember how close you had gotten to Anon's face. His head was resting right here, you realize, running your hoof over the armrest of the couch.

Your heartbeat spikes a little as you gulp, slowly bending down. Your mind helpfully points out that, if Anon were to walk in at that moment, he'd catch you sniffing the couch, but the thought is quickly washed away by the flood of Anon's scent. Humming, you press your muzzle into the ugly green fabric, then slide your cheek across it, resting your head where Anon does every night.

Instantly, your heart rate slows as you let yourself be enveloped by the traces of Anon's presence, imagining that he has his strong arms wrapped around you. It doesn't take long for your breathing to level and your mind to drift into unconsciousness, a human waiting for you in your dreams.

You're Anon, and you've been trying to get your head straight the entire trip home. Ms Index's implications were only that, yet, you can't get them out of your head.

Floor is your friend. Best friend, in fact, and that's including those few human ones you had back on Earth. Since you've been sucked to Equestria, you've only thought of them a few times, and rarely with much longing. Life has been too hectic to, really, but you doubt the same could be said for Floor.

If you were pulled back to Earth this very second, you have no doubt where you're thoughts would lie.

Floor Bored, waiting for you.

Floor Bored, all alone.

Floor Bored, abandoned.

The idea makes your heart stutter and your throat tighten, and you're sure you'd be praying to be returned if that were to happen. Knowing this only makes you less sure of what your true feelings for the mare are, though.

Is that how one is supposed to think of their best friend? Is it even normal to call someone your best friend after so short a amount of time? The answers elude you, even as you reach the entrance to your apartment.

You sigh, and open the door. Immediately, you see the mare who had been consuming your thoughts sleeping on the couch, snoring lightly with a peaceful smile on her lips. The sight calms you for a second, before putting you on a new track of contemplation.

What did Floor think of you? Her best friend, yes, but what else? Ms. Index feared there was more, but surely those fears were unfounded. The conversation from that morning replays in your head.

Floor thought she was a bad friend, and it took a lot of convincing, and some confessions of your own, to even get her to question the notion. You don't think there's love. At least not romantic. You shake your head and shut the door.

You're as quiet as possible as you take your shoes off, not wanting to wake the mare, both to let her sleep and to avoid an awkward conversation until you got your thoughts in order. With her on the couch though, you don't exactly have a place to sit. You could try to ease yourself down into the free cushion, but the jostling might disturb her.

You're thinking of just sitting on the floor and propping your back against the couch when you have a better idea. One of the things the two of you had discussed that morning was the new guest account on Floor's computer she set up for you. Now could be a good time to try it out while the mare isn't in need of her desktop.

Crossing the room as quietly as possible, you enter hers and shut the door to a crack behind you. Making your way over to the desk, you sit down and power it on, drumming your fingers atop the wooden surface as you wait. Thing's pretty outdated so the startup is painfully slow.

Three minutes later, you're able to enter the guest account, then it takes another three minutes for all the icons to load in and for you to open the browser. Floor definitely needs an upgrade, and that ends up being the the topic of your first string of searches.

A new computer is quickly deemed too far beyond your budget to happen in the near future, but some searching on Amarezon does give you some other options. Maybe some more RAM and a better graphics card. Between a birthday gift and something for Hearth's Warming, you could have her old rig practically zipping by the end of the year.

Pulling up the diagnostic tool, you start checking her setup. As you look through the information, you decide to take some written notes, maybe find a computer shop and ask for advice on how best to service the machine. This is why you end up opening the drawers of Floor's desk in search of something to write on and find her sketchbook.

Your hand hovers over the book for a moment before you decide that the mare won't miss just one page, and you pick it up. Flipping to a blank sheet somewhere in the middle, you look back into the drawer for something to write with, and freeze.

You tentatively reach in and pick up the loose sheet, looking at the picture drawn there with a slowly growing smile. It's of you and Floor Bored, together on the couch, her eyes shut as she leans into you and you with your arm around her shoulders. Absently you look back into the drawer, and see another sheet, quickly recognizing the other little chibi drawings she did of you both, like the two of you cooking together and drinking coffee.

Then your eyes drift down to the lower right corner of the paper, and your smile falters. There is an image of you holding Floor Bored around the barrel, her forelegs wrapped around your neck as the two of you kiss passionately. Ms. Index's words come flooding back, and you swallow thickly.

Slowly, you place the sketch in your hands back on top of the other, and slide the drawer closed. Spotting a pen hidden in the shadows beside the computer tower, you grab that and start making notes, expression blank.

You'll look up computer stores after this and go visit one. Maybe the walk will help you work things out in your head. Or at least serve as a distraction. Because really, what the hell are you supposed to do with what you just saw? Listen to your boss say I-told-you-so?

Author's Notes:

Hmm...
Not entirely sure how I'm going to handle this next bit. A confronation of feelings must occur, but how and who...

Well, anyway, here's a little comic by ScraggleMan,