Be a nervous Anon, feeling like a hypocrite as you sit with Floor in the chair beside yours, waiting to be called into Ms. Index's. After all your talk about how there's nothing to worry about, your chest really shouldn't feel this tight. Glancing over, you see Floor fidgeting with the the plastic container in her lap, the sight making you smile as you remember the night before.

After a tickle attack that the Geneva convention would have thought excessive, Floor was left absolutely ravenous, and couldn't wait for a proper meal to be cooked, instead opting to devour two PB&J's and a third sandwich filled with just about everything in the fridge.

With cooking supplies dwindled and her hunger sated, there wasn't much reason left for a late dinner, but that didn't mean the the two of you couldn't make something, and instead opted for dessert. Specifically, you worked together to bake your first Floor-layered cake from the recipe the mare's grandmother had taught her. It was a bit time consuming, and left you going to bed later than you'd planned, but the end result was a delicious, dense, and chocolaty treat. The perk of adulthood meant you shared a slice for breakfast before coming to the NEET Inspection Agency HQ.

There was plenty left over, though, and you made a suggestion. "You think Ms. Index would want to try it?" you had asked, getting Floor to shuffle about self-consciously. Despite the cake turning out perfectly, she was still hesitant to present the dish to someone as important as your boss. At least, that was her logic, and she was none too appreciative of the laugh it got from you.

You explained that Ms. Index was a regular pony, and not, as Floor said, some high-class mare who ate only the finest of foods while laughing at the peasants below. It was something Floor Bored found hard to believe given the position Ms. Index held within the NEET Inspection Agency. You could sort of get the logic, especially with such a high-up government job, but it was still laughable to imagine the kind mare you worked for in such a way.

Regardless, Floor conceded, hence the slice of cake she now held. You're sure Ms. Index will appreciate the gesture, and secretly, you hope it might serve as an example of both Floor's recovery so far, and the progress she's made towards self-improvement.

"Ms. Index will see you both now," says the secretary, pulling you from your thoughts and getting Floor to jolt in her seat, she scrabbles with the container in her grasp, nearly dropping it before solidifying her grasp and heaving a sigh.

"That'd would have been bad," she mumbles as she climbs down while you stand and stretch your legs. "Not a good first impression if I smear chocolate cake all over her clean floor."

You pat her head and smile reassuringly. "Come on, lets not keep the boss waiting. Want me to carry that?"

She holds the container close to her chest and frowns up at you. "I've got it."

You hold your hands up in surrender. She's been adamant about carrying it this entire time, even after the a few close calls on the bus ride over whenever the driver hit a bump. She wants Ms. Index to see her as responsible and able to do things on her own, and is determined to do everything she can to project that. You doubt couriering a cake across town necessarily proves that, but you won't argue against something that helps her feel more confident.

Entering the office, you immediately know there's been a change, but it takes a few seconds to realize what it is. Ms. Index is behind her desk, same as before, putting away some papers into a drawer before looking up to smile at the two of you. The larger chair she had for you last time is out once more, along with an extra pony-sized one beside it. That is one difference, but not the one you found peculiar.

No, that honor goes to the flowery scent in the air provided by the candle currently burning on the mare's desk. You don't have much time to ponder this before your boss cheerfully calls for you both to sit down. You nudge Floor subtly with a leg as she stands stock-still for a moment too long, but eventually, you're both seated as Ms. Index stares at you with that pleasant smile and hooves pressed together atop her desk.

"It's good to see you again, Anon," she starts, her gaze meeting yours briefly before flicking to the other pony in the room. "And this lovely young mare you've brought along must be Floor Bored. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Ah, yeah, you too, miss," Floor responds, forcing a smile and trying to meet the other mare's eyes. She manages a whole two seconds before her eyes fall to her lap. Luckily there's something to distract her from here social anxiety as she thrusts the plastic container forward. "I brought you cake!"

Surprise shows on the elder mare's face as she leans back, but she quickly smooths her expression back to a gentle smile. "Really now? You certainly didn't need to," she starts with a chuckle as she leans in. "... But my secretary out there is in charge of bringing me lunch, and she's a bit of a health nut, so I certainly can't say I'm not pleasantly surprised. A mare can only eat so many kale salads before her sweet tooth threatens mutiny."

This gets Floor to tilt her head even as she places the container on the desk and slides it over to the middle-aged mare. "Can't you just tell her to order you stuff other than salads? You're her boss, right?"

Ms. Index licks her lips as she leans forward and snags the dessert. "I could, I suppose," she says, peeling the top off of the container partially to smell its contents. "But she only means well, and frankly, I really should be eating healthily at my age. I spend too much time behind this desk to afford the eating habits I would like... Well, as long as I don't want to upgrade to a titanium-reinforced chair, at least."

This gets a snort of laughter from Floor Bored that she hurriedly tries to hide behind a hoof while you smile yourself. You don't think you've ever seen Ms. Index this casual and relaxed before, and you wonder if she's doing it to put Floor at ease. It's certainly working on you, after all, and it would make sense with the candle she's set out. The fact that she'd put forth the effort to do such a thing for someone she hardly knows increases your already sizable respect for the mare, and you're even more glad that she's your boss.

"If you eat that whole thing, you'll have to make the switch sooner than you think," you chime in. "That cake is delicious, but dense as all get out, and richer than the princesses."

"Oh?" Ms. Index responds. "Where'd you buy it? Because that sounds exactly how I like my desserts."

"Actually, we made it," you answer proudly, reaching over to pat your friend's shoulder as she bashfully taps her front hooves together. "We used her grandmother's recipe, and Floor did most of the work herself."

"Um, except the whisking 'cause it's easier with hands," Floor mumbles. "... And he handled the temperature knob." She frowns at the memory. "I still think the cake would get bake faster if the oven was hotter."

"You made this?" Ms. Index asks.

"Yep," you answer.

"And you really only helped a little?" she presses, looking at you. "There's no need to be modest, Anon."

That causes you to frown some, but you keep your voice level as you say, "No modesty required, ma'am. Floor here is very handy in the kitchen. She probably won't even need my help with cooking for much longer."

"I'm not that good," Floor interrupts, though there's a smile tugging at her lips. "I am getting pretty good at cracking eggs though- I don't even get shell pieces in the bowl most times anymore."

"That is impressive. You sound like quite the budding chef," Ms. Index agrees in a tone just shy of patronizing. While the urge to frown strengthens, Floor beaming from the apparent praise keeps you silent. "I can't wait to try this cake."

"You can try it now, if you want," Floor says with a hint of eagerness. "We wouldn't mind."

Smile faltering an instant, Ms. Index quickly shakes her head. "Oh no, I couldn't."

"I think Floor's right," you encourage. "Just think of it as part of this meeting. I've told you how much Floor here as been improving, but this can be first-hand proof of it."

Ms. Index looks between you both a few times before giving a small sigh. "I suppose, if it would mean that much to you," she says as she opens a drawer and rummages inside. "I think I have... Ah, here we go." The mare pulls out a set pre-packaged plastic utensils and tears it open to grab the fork. Setting aside the rest, Ms. Index removes the lid fully from the plastic container, stares down at the contents, sighs, and uses the fork to break off a bite.

Floor holds her breath as the other mare brings the forkful of confection to her mouth and hesitantly begins to chew. Starting slow with eyes clenched shut, her features begin to relax as she chews more. Opening her eyes, she stares at Floor with a confused expression as she swallows. "... You made this?" she asks again.

"Um, yes," Floor answers. "Is it... good?"

"Yes," she responds, blinking down at the cake. "Very good in fact. You've made something truly delicious, Floor Bored."
She looks up with a soft smile. "You should be proud."

Floor blushes intensely. "W-well, it's my GramGram's recipe, so-"

You clap your hand on the mare's shoulder and give her a light shake. "Come on, Floor, take the compliment," you tell her. "It might be your grandmother's recipe, but you pulled it off perfectly."

"With your help," she tries, but it's Ms. Index who argues this time.

"It's still an accomplishment," she says, sounding almost eager. "And as I understand it, you've only just started to learn to cook recently, yes? This is quite the feat for a beginner."

Floor looks up, shocked, but with a grin slowly splitting her face. "Yeah... I guess you're right. Thanks."

The grin falters a little to confusion as Ms. Index suddenly leans her front hooves on the top of her desk to peer over at Floor's lower-half.

You're as puzzled by the older mare's behavior as Floor as you look down to try and see what's so interesting. All you see is Floor's panties-clad bottom, however.

"Um, Ms. Index?"

She doesn't seem to hear Floor as furrows her brow, mumbling instead, "Perhaps behind the underwear..."

"Boss," you try, waving a hand through her line of sight. "I'm not saying Floor's fashion sense isn't great, but..."

Ms. Index looks up at you, blinks, then widens her eyes. "Oh! I'm sorry!" she starts falling back into her chair so hard that you hear the legs scrape along the floor. "I was just seeing if perhaps..." she trails off, looking away with a blush. "Never mind, it was nothing," she finishes instead, much to your chagrin. Just what is going through the mare's head.

You don't get a chance to press, though, before Ms. Index snaps the lid back over the cake with a promise to finish it later, and steers the conversation in another direction. "As I understand it, cooking isn't the only hobby you've picked up recently," she starts, hooves coming together over her desk. "You've started drawing, as well, haven't you?"

Floor rubs at the back of her head. "Well, not really started. More like got back into it. I always liked to draw, but I sort of, I dunno... let myself quit because I didn't think what I made was worth anything. At least, that's what I was sure other ponies thought..." She gives a fleeting, sideways glance up at you as she continues with a thankful smile. "But Anon's really been pushing for me to keep at it."

"That's good to hear," Ms. Index says with a nod. "The value other's might or might not place on your art doesn't matter at all as long as it makes you happy. That's value enough in itself." She tilts her head. "You wouldn't happened to have brought any of your work with you to show me, have you?"

"No," Floor answers quietly, then straightens. "B-but maybe next time?"

"I'd love that," Ms. Index encourages.

"Maybe I'll bring my stuff then, too," you pitch in. "Old stuff and new. That way you'll be able to see how Floor's been teaching this talentless chump how to actually draw halfway decent."

"That's not true, Anon," Floor chides with a frown. "You aren't talentless, and your drawing wasn't that bad."

You give her a flat look. "Floor, my stuff used to look like vegetable still lifes."

"What's wrong with that?" Ms. Index asks honestly, getting you to turn your dry expression on her. "Drawing vegetables seems an adequate place to start when learning to draw. Like those painting of fruit bowls and the like."

"They were meant to be ponies," you answer glibly. "Now though, they look like ponies... with maybe a few tragic birth defects, but they're little troopers who don't let that keep them down."

Floor snorts. "Yeah, they're real inspiring," she says with a roll of her eyes.

You point over at her. "See? You hear that? My work's inspiring, and all because of her top-notch lessons."

Ms. Index giggles behind a hoof. "Did you two rehearse this?" she asks. "I feel like this is a bit you set up to make me laugh."

"Nah," you answer. "Floor and I just bounce off each other well."

"You're certainly quite the comedic duo," Ms. Index agrees. "Why, I can see the two performing a whole routine up on stage."

Smiling herself, Floor shakes her head. "Oh no, that'd be terrifying."

"You'd just have to imagine the audience in their underwear and you'd be just fine," you wave off jokingly. Floor blushes, mumbling something under her breath about that just making her scared and horny, and you have to resist bursting into laughter. "Anyway," you start in an attempt to get the meeting back on track. "So yeah, Floor's a pretty good artist, and we can probably bring some stuff in to show you next time. Anything else you want to know?"

Ms. Index taps her chin in thought. "Not in the way of small talk, no." Her eyes flick between you both. "Though, I suppose there is that more... delicate matter of the relationship between you two."

You notice Floor's back straighten next to you while you try to resist the same impulse. "What's there to say? We've talked it over, and we've decided to wait before we try being more than friends," you answer blandly, getting your boss to tilt her head.

"And it's that simple?" she presses. "Living together as you do, spending all your time together, I wouldn't be shocked if either of you had given into urges to pursue more... intimate behavior."

"If you're asking if we've kissed or something, than the answer's no," you tell her truthfully. "And definitely nothing more than that."

The older mare hums, gaze falling on the fidgeting Floor Bored. "Floor, is this true?"

"Y-yes," she squeaks, face redder than Taproot's beet juice. "We haven't k-kissed."

"Really, Ms Index, you can trust me," you cut in, slightly miffed that the mare had gone after Floor like that. Sure, it might be obvious that Floor would be a worse liar than you, but for your boss to ask her the same question implied she thought you would lie to her. "Listen, the most intimate thing we've done is probably fall asleep together on the couch a few times, and that's hardly inappropriate."

"It's not," Ms. Index agrees with a small sigh. "And I do trust you, Anon, but it's my job to ask these kinds of questions."

You sigh yourself. "Yeah, I get that, but I want you to understand that Floor and I both want to be as honest as possible to you, right Floor?"

"Uh, yeah, what he said," Floor agrees, easing up a little. "And Anon really hasn't done anything like that. He doesn't even help me take baths anymore ever since we talked about how we feel about each other."

You bite the inside of your cheek as you see one of your boss' eyebrows slowly raise. "He's helped you in the bath."

Floor stammers. "Ah, w-well, he did a few times, b-but that was when he first moved in with me, and I really did need the help. Now I do it all by myself, though, and Anon makes sure I keep clean so it doesn't get so bad again. Just like how we keep the apartment neat. It makes a lot of sense, but it took Anon showing me it was a good idea, and now I pick up after myself so it doesn't become a mess, you know. And... ah..."

Realizing that she's rambling, Floor's mouth snaps shut, and she strains a closed-lipped smile.

"There's no need to be embarrassed, Floor," Ms. Index tells her upon seeing the tension in the other mare's shoulders. "Neither of you are in trouble. I was just taken off guard for a moment, but I can perfectly understand Anon helping in that regard. Honestly, I'm impressed to hear you've taken such an initiative in your hygiene and the upkeep of your home." Her eyes flick to the scented candle, and you suddenly wonder if perhaps there was another reason why she set it out when expecting Floor to come in. "Anyway, it sounds as if you've both been handling things very well."

Floor's smile becomes a little more genuine as the room falls into a amiable silence. Eventually, you clear your throat. "So... is this meeting over?"

Ms Index nods. "I suppose. I can confidently say that the worries I had prior to this morning have been put to rest, and in fact, I'm more than a little impressed with Floor Bored's progress."

"Really?" the younger mare asks, eyes wide. "You're impressed with me?"

"Of course," the other mare confirms. "You cook, clean, and even have notable skill in a hobby that you enjoy. I only wish all ponies under our care could be so self-reliant."

"Well, maybe they could be," Floor says thoughtfully.

"Excuse me?" Ms. Index asks.

"I never thought I'd be able to do all the things I do now," Floor begins, looking up at you with a warm smile. "But all it took was a really good friend who believed in me showing me that I could, and helping me learn." She shrugs as she looks back at the older mare. "I don't know, maybe if other NEET inspectors tried to be friends with the ponies they check up on, those ponies will have a reason to be better."

"That definitely sounds like a good idea," you comment, thinking about your friend's proposal. "I don't think there's enough inspectors for that sort of thing, though. I mean, how many of them are going to want to live with their wards too help them?"

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to agree with Anon on this," Ms. Index agrees. "Besides, you're case is a special one. I doubt our other wards would see such improvements even if they all had inspectors willing to give them their undivided attention."

"But," Floor starts, hoof raising minutely before she lets it fall, along with her eyes. "I guess you're right. It was just a thought."

"And a kind one," Ms. Index assures sympathetically. "You're a very good pony, Floor Bored."

Floor tries to smile at the compliment, but you can tell her heart isn't in it. "Well, I guess if that's everything, Floor and I should probably get going," you start, standing up. "It's been nice talking to you, boss, but I'm sure you have more to do today than just hang out with the two of us."

"Yes, yes, you're right," says Ms. Index with a wave of a hoof. "Though I admit, I've certainly enjoyed our meeting as more than a purely work related one. It's been nice talking to you both, as well. Would you believe I'm actually already looking forward to next weeks?"

"We'll have to make sure we have only good news for you then," you respond with a smile. "And some good art for you to check out." Glancing down at Floor, you ask, "Right, Floor?"

"Sure," she answers distractedly, stepping out of her own seat to stretch. "Sounds great." She looks back towards the door and adds, "We're going, then?"

Confused, you still answer yes, and with a final goodbye, you leave Ms. Index's office and begin the journey home, your boss promising to have your plastic container clean and ready for pickup by next week. You wave to the secretary on the way out, which she returns absently, and you step onto the bustling streets.

Something is definitely up with Floor as she hardly pays attention to the crowds, nearly bumping into a hurried stallion if it weren't for you giving her a gentle tug out of the larger pony's way. She looks back at the stallion before thanking you and going back to her thoughts.

"Okay, seriously, what's wrong, Floor?" you ask. "You're aren't worried about how the meeting went, are you? Because it went great."

"Hmm? No, the meeting was actually sort of nice," she answers. "Your boss is pretty cool, just like you said."

"She is," you agree. "That doesn't exactly answer my question, though. What's on your mind?"

"It's just..." she starts before glancing around at the ponies around her as if just noticing them. Moving closer to your side as you continue to walk, she speaks in a quieter tone, "Actually, can we wait until we're home? I promise I'll tell you then."

Your lips press into a line for a moment, but you nod. "Sure, but keep your head up, will you? Whatever it is your thinking about, I don't want you flattened by a bus because you aren't paying attention."

She rolls her eyes. "Anon, I've been living in this city my whole life. I know how to get around without getting run over."

"I'd argue that most of that time has been spent indoors, or traveling to the same convenience store, but whatever," you say in a blasé manner, then peer down to see her staring up at you with puffed cheeks and pouty lips. You chuckle and add, "Just teasing."

Floor huffs, but you're pretty sure you see the ghost of a smirk as she tells you to keep up and starts walking ahead of you.

Hopefully whatever is bothering her isn't serious. With how good that meeting went, now should be a time of celebration, not sadness. Regardless, you'll find out soon enough, and be ready to help her through it whatever it is.

That's what friend's are for.

Be a conflicted Floor Bored, knowing you should be overjoyed with how things went with Anon's boss, but instead stuck on something the surprisingly kind mare said.

You glance over at Anon and wonder if he agrees with her. You're sure if you asked, he'd say you were special and amazing, because of course he would try to make you feel good about yourself, but you certainly don't feel that way. And you definitely don't feel you're any better than other NEETs out there.

Ms. Index seems to think you being halfway to not a complete failure makes you unique, and that the other ponies she takes care of couldn't do what you do, but if anything, you were probably worse than them back before Anon came into your life. Surely if you can be better, so can they, right?

Perhaps it's a pointless thought. You're just you, after all, and you're not the kind of pony who goes out and helps others. That's the sort of thing the Princess of Friendship and her friends do, not some NEET living off of the tax payer's bits. Still, it's hard not to wonder if maybe something really could be done to help the others like you.

You're so much happier now, and all it took was one kind person lending you a hoof and a shoulder to lean on, surely the same can be true for other NEETs, right?

Your thoughts circle endlessly, and you find your pace quickening as questions build in the back of your throat, eager to seek out your best friend's opinion.

If anything, once Anon tells you that you're riling yourself up for no reason, you can get back to more important things, like drawing new pictures the best you can to really impress Anon's boss next week. What kinds of things to successful ponies like to see? Landscapes? Air ships? Maybe a picture of Celestia?

Hmm, this is going to be tough.

Author's Notes:

And there, one new chapter. I didn't write this one on 4chan at all because I wanted to get it out fast, so the style might seem a little different, seeing as, instead of doing it in green, and converting to prose format, I just did it in prose from the start.
Hopefully it's still good, and feels substantial after the long wait. Might be more mistake-ridden than usual, though, since I didn't effectively go through it twice like I usually do, so if you see errors don't be afraid of pointing them out.
Also, as a little bonus, here is a story blurb I wrote as sort of a prompt. Maybe it'll inspire an idea for someone else?

EXTRA
Anon, Necromancer Supreme, has recently arrived in Equestria, and can't wait to raise an undead army against those ridiculous princesses he's heard about. First, though, he must experiment, and to start, he has to make sure his magic even works properly on these strange equines.

They seem to be innately magical, far more so then the corpses of men he's used to working with, and he is unsure if that will aid or impede the raising process. Luckily, while stalking the night for potential candidates, one fell right into his lap.

Well, into the river from the bridge crossing over it that he had been skulking by, but it was only a minor inconvenience to dredge it from the riverbed once he removed the rocks from its hoodie pockets.

Really, the living are such fools. While he may agree that life is wholly overrated, there are far less painful ways of shedding ones mortal coil than drowning. A reasonably tall building tends to do quite well as long as the diver insures a head-first collision.

Who is he to complain, though? At least this way leaves the body completely intact for optimal service from the soon-to-be slave, and it's not even water-logged, fresh as it is. Really, he couldn't have asked for a better test subject.

Back in the cave serving as his temporary lair, Anon draws his dark circles and brings his bubbling, necrotic magic to bear. Arise from the darkness!" he calls, slamming his staff into the stone floor. crimson bolts of magic spark from the base, surging into the equine body and making it jolt. "Arise and serve your master, hooded one! Arise and be the first of his great and terrible army!"

The body twitches and convulses, water vomiting from its gaping maw as its eyes roll back into its head. The magic seeps into every inch of the creature and vanishes, then, nothing. Anon stares for several seconds, waiting for his creation to stand and bow to him. "Come on, enough laying there. Arise, pony."

It remains motionless, and he frowns. Stepping forward, he nudges it with a toe. "Seriously, arise." It does not, and he goes from nudges to light kicks. "Come on, I didn't drag your bony bottom three miles just for you to sit there like a potato."

He's just about to give the seemingly inanimate sack of flesh a hard, frustration-fueled whack of his staff when it shifts away from his foot. "Stop it," it groans in a raspy voice. "M'sleepy."

What?

Anon is unsure of how to respond to that. While it's not uncommon for his undead minions to speak, at least those with the fleshy bits and bones needed for the action intact enough to do so, it's usually never more than, "Yes, Master," or, "As you command, Master." Or, if his self-esteem is lagging, some variations of, "You're the coolest, Master," and, "The other Necromancers are just jealous of your awesome robes. They don't look like a dress at all."

"I'm sleepy," however, is a new one.

Anon shakes his head, determined to set things right. "You are not sleepy, you're dead, and like all good dead things, that means you're going to arise and serve me! I got river mock in my hair dragging you out of the silt, not to mention everywhere else, and you're going to help me clean it all off!"

"River...?" it grumbles confusedly, rolling over to stair at him with dead, dull eyes. Those eyes suddenly widen, and even through the milky film over them, shock is visible. "The river!" it, or perhaps she, yelps, sitting up to pat herself down. "I'm alive?!"

"No, actually, you're not," Anon says with a roll of his eyes. "You succeeded in your endeavor to end your miserable life. Congratulations."

"But, if I'm dead, how am I awake?" she questions, looking around. "... Is this the after life?"

"Afraid not," answers Anon with a sigh. "It seems that, in the process of raising your corpse, I've somehow dragged your soul back into it, which means my spells will have to be adjusted for your kind after all. Fun."

"Ah... What?"