You are Anon, waiting patiently, if a bit bored, with a brush in hand for Floor to come out from the bathroom. It had been silent for ten minutes until you heard the shower turn on, the little pony deciding to rinse off before finishing up, you presume. That was about five minutes ago, and you are now leaning your chin on your palm.

Settling in and cleaning up kept you busy enough the last couple days, but now, with the apartment reaching a livable state, hanging with Floor's about all there is for you to do.

"I wonder when those science ponies will give me my phone back," you ponder out load. Apparently, there has been a few other humans in this world besides you, the last maybe even still alive since he arrived twenty-some years ago. You of course asked about it, but he apparently left to live with the minotaurs a long time ago and didn't stay in contact with Equestria.

The humans were part of the reason there was technology so familiar to you; them spreading ideas and providing pieces of tech for the natives to build from. Ponies were a talented bunch, but prone to stagnation if outside forces didn't inspire them to innovate. From what you've gathered, the other races like the gryphons and minotaurs would often make steps in progress, like inventing the steam engine or cinema, then ponies would take the idea and improve upon it. Usually by throwing magic into the mix, but whatever worked.

And this is the case with your smartphone; nerds ponies were currently picking it apart to learn how to adapt the tech for their own use, which could potentially mean a boon in processing power for their computers in the near future. You'd like to say you handed your phone over for the sake of progress alone, but really, it's because they promised to make it adaptable with their internet when they were done. You can't wait to be able to browse from the palm of your hand again.

The shower finally turn off, and the door creaks open a minute later. "Enjoy the soak?" you ask as a damp, red-faced Floor steps out, some steam billowing out behind her.

Her face becomes redder and her eyes dart away as she answers, "Oh, um yeah, it was really... enjoyable."

"I'm glad to hear it," you reply honestly, straightening your posture and patting the empty seat next to you on the couch. "You still want me to brush your mane?"

"I-if you don't want to-"

"Oh, enough of that, of course I still want to. I wouldn't have offered otherwise. Now get your butt over here already, Floor. Let's get that mane shining." She stands there for several seconds, before finally, shakily walking to the couch and climbing up. At first, she's as far to the other side as possible, but you gently reach over and pull her closer, turning and bringing one knee up on the cushion while positioning her back towards you.

"There, that's better," you say, more to yourself than to the stiff pony. "You okay for me to start?" She nods minutely, and you smile, patting her on the whithers. "Don't worry, I'll be sure not to pull your mane... Unless you're into that sort of thing," you add jokingly.

It's meant to be harmless teasing, but it sends Floor into a coughing fit instead. "Crap, I'm sorry, I was just joking," you tell her as you pat her back, hoping to knock loose the saliva she inhaled with her gasp.

"I-I'm alright," she tells you when she gets her breathing under control, turning her teary eyes to give you a wobbly smile. "You just... surprised me, is all."

"Yeah, sorry about that. It was totally inappropriate. You still okay with me brushing you?"

She looks forward and unhunches her back. "Mhmm."

With her blessing, you grab some of the hair near the top of her head at the root, and start running the thick toothed brush through it. You are sure to tug the mane oppositely whenever the brush reaches a knot to keep from pulling the mare's scalp, but it's very slow going. Knot after knot is pulled lose as you inch your way down the long strands, until finally reaching the bottom and moving back to the top.

It's a long, tedious process, but the hums and content sighs encourage you to keep at it. Her jet black mane is a little frizzy even after running a brush through it, the cheap shampoo having leeched all the natural oils away without replacing them, and you see quite a few split ends at the bottom. It's soft though, and there's a slight scent coming from the mare that is oddly appealing.

It's strange since the smell definitely isn't the from the soap. It's faintly spicy with a hint of was almost musk. Maybe some sort of cologne?

Shrugging the thought aside, you focus on your work, smiling when Floor begins to lean back into you. Eventually, you finish, running your hand down the tidy mass of hair with a bit of pride. "Well, that's the top. Want for me to start on the tail next, or are you content to sleep for a while longer?"

"Hmm-wha?" she begins, jerking up a little and wiping drool from her chin. "S-sorry, it just felt really nice."

"It's fine," you say with a chuckle. "When I was a kid, I used to nod off in the barber's chair all the time. Anyway, I asked if you were ready for me to brush your tail."

You can't see her face as she stares straight ahead, but she eventually nods. "Thank you again, Anon, for doing this for me," she whispers, uncurling her tail from around her haunches to lay it across your lap.

"No problem," you respond, grabbing her tail near the dock and bringing the brush to it. You see her flinch as you do, and try to be gentle.

"S-so, you used to go to a barbershop when you were younger? My GramGram always cut my mane for me growing up."

"That so? My Mom was too busy for that, so she'd just give me some money and send me down the street to Bob's place. I liked it that way, though, my grandparents all lived far away, and old Bob was kind of like a surrogate grandpa for me."

"You didn't see your grandparents much? Did they not visit?"

"Just on holidays. I'd get cards every birthday though, so they at least tried for my sake. Guess it runs in my family that the kids don't get along with their parents. How about you? You grew up with your grandma, right?"

She shifts her weight back and forth on her front hooves. "W-well, um, my mom had me when she was still in high school, and my dad... well I don't know anything about him, accept that he was older and didn't stick around after Mom got pregnant. GramGram's never talks about him, except for under her breath. She... didn't like him much."

"I can imagine," You comment, frowning at the thought of such a man, or stallion in this case. You weren't naive enough to believe this guy staying would have made everything sunshine and rainbows for all involved. After all, it sounds like he was an adult who knocked up a teen, but to up and vanish completely? Not even try to help with money? That's low.

"Um, anyway, my mom was... well, I don't really remember my mom, either. GramGram said my dad broke her heart, and she never really got over it."

You stop brushing and lean forward, hugging the little mare softly. "I'm sorry," you say honestly. Floor jerks a little, but soon leans into the embrace.

"It's alright. I-it happened so long ago, I was four when she- she... I don't even remember her." Your hug tightens as the mare sniffle and brings a foreleg across her cheek. She settles down after a minute, and you resume your brushing.

The silence if deafening though, so you ask, "You have any hobbies, or anything? Truth is, I'm going a little stir crazy, not having much to do."

"Um, like what?"

"Well, for example, I like to write, even if it's usually just little short stories or blurbs."

"You write?"

"Yep, I try, anyway. I did go to college for it, after all."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I know, it was stupid of me. Looking back, I think it was more a rebellious thing. My parents were really controlling, told me it was a waste, that writing wouldn't get me a job. Turns out they were right."

"It isn't stupid, Anon, I bet you're an amazing writer."

"More like meh, but I try to get better. Enough about me, though, what about you?"

"O-oh, I'm pretty... talentless," she answers meekly, her tail tugging against your grip to try and cover her flank.

"I'm sure that's not true. Come on, you must have a hobby. What do you do to pass time?"

"I just browse this website most of the time."

"What site?"

"It's stupid. It's just a place for ponies to discuss random stuff, like favorite series or... other things."

"Is it broken up in categories? You look for certain discussions?" Your digging pays off as she squirms and mumbles something. "What's that?"

"Comics... I like the threads about comics."

"Oh? A pony with a taste for fine art. I should have pegged you as cultured mare."

"Wha-? No, I''m not at- It's not- I just like-" she fumbles.

"Floor, I was joking, I know what comics are, and I like them too."

"Y-you do?"

"Yep. I was a real big fan of this guy, Spider-Man, growing up. How about you?"

"Um, p-pretty much anything, really, I just like the medium, b-but, I suppose... Marevel's my favorite publisher. I was really into Power Ponies growing up, too."

"You have any issues? I wouldn't mind checking them out."

"Sorry, but I had to sell a lot of them before I got on NEET welfare. Now I just read them digitally."

"Too bad... Hey, you think there's any comics at the library? I know a lot of the ones back home stocked a few."

"Um, I don't know... Probably? The one at my school had some I checked out a lot."

"Maybe we can make a trip of it then. I've actually been meaning to see what kind of books ponies write, but getting sucked into a new world and trying to settle in have kept me pretty busy."

"Well, there's a library a few blocks from the old ponies' home. We could stop there when we visit GramGram."

You grin, both at the news, and at the little pony showing initiative. She's really begun opening up to you, you think, and it's a huge improvement over her locking herself in her room all day. "Great, now we just have to choose a day, and it's a date."

"D-d-d-date!?"

"Ah, Floor?" Suddenly, Floor Bored is up and running to her room, leaving you with a few strands of dark hair in your hand and a befuddled look on your face. At least you were about done brushing her tail out already. Hopefully it's dry enough though, or else she might get it all tangled again. The damp spot left on the couch cushions leaves you doubtful.

Be a very panicking Floor Bored. You were doing so good at keeping your composure. Distracting yourself with conversation so as not to sploosh all over him while he fondled your tail.

Things were going great. Apparently beyond great, even, because you're pretty sure Anon just asked you out on a date. How did you manage that? Were comics the secret key to a stallion's heart? Should you inform the masses?

*Smack!* "... Ouch."

You work your jaw after that much-needed smack you gave yourself. Okay, Floor, let's be rational here, why would he ask you out on a date? You aren't exactly beautiful, smart, or talented. You don't have bits. All you've done since meeting Anon is get cleaned by him, cooked for by him, pretty much been taken care of without offering anything in return. Told him about your parents...

Oh... Was... was this a pity date? Everything falls into place with that realization. He was just taking you out because you made him feel sorry for you. With a groan, you collapse on the bed.

Great, Floor, just great. Not only have you been taking advantage of the sweetest, gentlest stallion in the world, but now you were emotionally manipulating him. You're practically a sexual predator. You should be on a watch list. Well, with some of the things you've gotten yourself off to on the internet, you probably were already, but still, at least you weren't hurting anypony before.

Flipping over on your back, you try to think of what to do. You could go out there and apologize. Tell him he didn't have to take you out on a date just to make you feel better about something you should have gotten over years ago. That's what you should do, but you're a selfish coward, and part of you really wanted to go on a date with Anonymous. So what else could you do that would at least keep you out of the deepest pits of Tartarus?

Several minutes go by in silence, brain working furiously, until at last, it stumbles upon the fabled light bulb of yore. Just because Anon is doing this out of pity, didn't mean you couldn't make it the best darn date he's ever been on. You are going to woo the socks off that stallion.

Mmm, Anon in socks...

Marebits dampening, you quickly squash the desire. No, Floor, you did that enough in the tub! You were practically stewing in your own juices before you finally realized and drained the yellowed water. Then you had to shower off, and try to wipe the tub clean before Anon saw.

Moving to distract yourself, you go to your desk and open the top drawer to see a small bit bag. It is all of your savings, what would be a new computer mouse in a couple months if you continued to add to it. Now it would be your date money.

Glancing at Ol' Reliable with a sigh, you bring a hoof up to caress the dusty tower. "We'll be together again someday, old friend, just take the time to rest until then." Mind made up, you leave the room and quickly spot Anon sprawled out on the couch, limbs hanging off the too-small furniture. "A-anon?"

"Hmm?" he removes the arm from over his eyes to look blearily over at you and yawn. "What's up, Floor?"

So cute.

Focus! "I was just thinking... about what we were talking about, I mean. Um, about the d-date."

"Visiting your grandma and the library? Well, the checks come at the end of the week, so, probably the day after tomorrow, I guess."

"Y-yeah, that sounds good," you answer, then finding yourself with nothing to say.

"It's amazing how much difference a bath and brushing can make."

"What?"

"I was just noticing how much better you look, after the bath."

Your face immediately starts to burn. "R-really? You really think so?"

"Of course, you have a really beautiful mane. You ever think of doing anything with it?"

"M-my mane?" you bring a hoof up to the onyx locks. "I, um, put it in a low ponytail sometimes, to, you know, keep it out of face when I'm on my computer."

"Really? Well, let's see it then! You can't just tell me something like that and not expect me to want to see it."

Your mouth hangs open for a bit before slamming shut and smiling. "Sure thing! Just give me a second." Running back to your room, you pull open the bottom drawer of your desk to reveal your collection of three scrunchies.

The neon pink one is straight out. You love your GramGram, but she had horrible taste in scrunchies. The black one is also out, since it would blend in too well with your mane and that probably wouldn't look good. That leaves the purple scrunchy.

Picking it up and quickly working it into your mane, you get to the entryway of your room and stop. Taking a deep breath and straightening your shoulders as much as you can, you attempt to strut into the living room like you know runway models do. The sway of your hips is all off, and your steps are jerky, but Anon still claps.

"Look at you, no wonder you try to stay out of the public, you'd be covered in stallions, and a few mares, if you went out looking like this."

Confidence leaving your stance, you hunch over, digging a hoof into he hardwood sheepishly. "I wouldn't mind if it was you," you whisper.

"What was that?"

"N-nothing!"

With a shrug, he sits up the rest of the way and stretches his arms over his head. "What is it? A little after one? Want to help me make lunch?"

You nod, smile growing. "Sure, what are we having?"

"Well, we've got spinach leaves, cherry tomatoes, and a boatload of croutons and raspberry vinaigrette. You up for some healthy, un-healthy salads?"

"That's the only kind I like," you chirp, following him into the kitchen space.

"Same." he responds with a chuckle and pat on your head. "Now let's make these babies, and then drown 'em like priests performing a baptism."

Be Anon, spinach stems sticking out of your mouth as you shovel salad down your gullet. Floor's doing the same, albeit forgoing a fork to instead just shove her face into bowl as it sits on the armrest. "Goofd?" you ask around a mouthful of greens.

She lifts her head, muzzle stained pinkish-red from the dressing and tomato juice. "Yef, i' very goof," she answers, garlicky crumbs spraying out of her mouth and onto the cushions.

You'd wipe them onto the floor later to be swept up. Right now, you have to smile at how cute the mare is. You stare at her with affection even after she submerges her muzzle back in salad again, finding the pig-like snorts adorable. It's hard to believe you've only been living here with her for three days. Hard to believe that it already feels more like a home than the apartment you'd lived in for three months before now.

Returning to your meal with a slow thoughtfulness, you ponder on this. It was more than simply having company. You'd lived on your own just fine for years back on Earth. Perhaps it was the feeling of alienation. You were an alien here, after all. And an unneeded one at that.

It's like Ms. Index said at the hospital about ponies without cutie marks. Feeling like you were the only one without a purpose in a world where everyone just clicked into place like puzzle pieces. You were a piece to a completely different puzzle that got mixed into the wrong box, and Floor was the same. You've found a purpose in her though, and maybe the two of you could click together.

"Um, are you okay, Anon?"

looking from the concerned mare, to the salad you stopped eating to instead stare forward like a zombie, you nod. "Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking about something and got distracted."

"What was it you were thinking about?"

"... Puzzles."

"Oh? do you like puzzles? I think I have one in my room. It was here in a kitchen cupboard when I moved in for some reason."

"Really? Well, I guess it's not the weirdest thing ever left by previous occupants. Like ghosts."

"D-don't talk like that," she says with a shiver. "I never put the puzzle together, and I won't want to if it ends up freeing an evil spirit, or something."

You laugh at that. "Sounds like the plot of a B horror movie. I'm sure it'll be fine, Floor, why don't you go get it and we'll do it now. Hopefully when we're done, it'll be late enough for the coffee run."

She beams, hopping off the couch and grabbing her empty bowl in her teeth to take it to the sink, something you're secretly proud of, before she trots to her room. While she's away, you finish your own salad and dump the bowl in the sink, rinsing them both out quickly.

By the time you're done, Floor already has the box and is even spreading a blanket out for the two of you to sit. Spitting the corner out and looking over her work with a satisfied nod, the mare nudges the box open with her muzzle and tips the pieces out.

Grabbing a couple cups of water, you go over and sit cross-legged while she sits opposite of you. "Here, something to wash the meal down with," you explain as she accepts the cup gratefully and takes a sip. "So what do we have here?" Picking up the lid of the box, you see a field of flowers with fillies and colts frolicking while pegasus foals fly circles amoungst the fluffy white clouds above.

There's also a big three-hundred printed in bubbly font down at the bottom. You weren't a puzzle aficionado, but didn't sound too extreme. Maybe three hours, tops. "Well then, where should we start, partner?" you ask the mare, setting the lid where both of you can see.

"Hmm, the side pieces first, probably. They're the easiest to put together, and then we can just build our way towards the middle." She's already digging her hooves through the pile of pieces before she finishes talking, and you soon join her. One by one, you fit the pieces together, building a small pile of two and three piece sets and occasionally combining chunks you have with ones from her stack.

After a bit, the border is complete, and the real challenge begins. It's slower than the corners, but an hour sees you a little over a third of the way done, the two of you working at a leisurely pace and just enjoying each other's company in relative silence.

Until you notice something different about Floor Bored and comment, "Aren't you cold?"

"Why would I be cold?"

"It's just that you aren't wearing your sweater like you usually do. I kind of expected you to put it back on when you were dry."

Her hoof freezes midair and her she slowly begins to shrink into herself. "You... don't mind... do you?"

You actually snort at that. "No, why would I? Wear whatever you want, or whatever you don't want. I just figured you wore the sweater because you were cold a lot, but if you're comfortable, then that's that."

She remains silent for awhile, before relaxing her posture and smiling. "Yeah, I'm comfortable."

"Glad to hear it, now is that the face of this grey kid by your hoof? I've got his body all done, but I'm missing the head."

"Hm, yep! Here."

And so, the two of you return to slowly fitting the pieces together.

You are a content Floor Bored as you snap the last piece of the old puzzle into place with finality. "Aaand done."

"And only a little over three hours. Seems like a pretty good time to me," adds Anon, leaning back on his palms. You smile and mimic his pose, the two of you basking in the glow of your achievement until Anon looks at you, then quickly glances away. "Well, now what? We don't want to get coffee until five at the latest, and we need to do more grocery shopping if we want a half-decent dinner tonight."

You tilt your head, both trying to think of something to do, and because you think you see a slight blush on Anon's cheeks. You're curiosity is overridden however, as you are struck with an idea. A potentially very embarrassing idea. "We could... draw."

His eyes return to yours and he quirks an eyebrow. "Draw?"

"Y-yeah, like with pencils and paper," you answer, resisting the urge to facehoof. Anon knows what drawing is. "I have a pad and some pencils in my room if, you... want to..."

"... Sure, why not? It'll pass time."

Jerking up, you resist squeeing as you run to your room and pull out your sketchpad and colored pencils. You slow for a moment, remembering the last time you used them. It was the day before you tried to... Shaking your head, you return to the living room and leave those dark thoughts behind. Things were different now. Anon wouldn't say anything mean about your not-art. He may not like it, but he won't hate you for it like other ponies.

When you return to the living room, Anon already has the puzzle broken into four chunks and put away, saying how he didn't want to completely undo all the work you'd done together. Soon after, the two of you are facing each other on the blanket, laying on your bellies with your eyes fixed on your papers. You tear an untouched page from the back of your sketchbook for him which he places on top of the puzzle box for a solid surface while you use the pad itself.

At first, you don't know what to draw, and instead glance repeatedly at his work. "I pretty much suck at drawing people, I can never keep'em symmetrical, but landscapes are fun, and I can just play my mess-ups off as happy little accidents," he explains, planting pine trees around a lake and waterfall.

"I used to watch this guy, Bob Ross, on the telly when I couldn't sleep, and landscapes were pretty much all he did. I remember thinking how amazing it was to actually see a picture come together. Like, to see the transition from a bunch of blobs to an actual work of art. The guy's voice was real soothing too, so I'd be out like a light as soon as the episode was done."

As he rambles on, you find yourself smiling and your hoof starts to move. He tells you about the place he's drawing, the memories of camping there with a friend and their family one time. He talks about how he tried to dive into the water from the branches of a tree, only for the branch to snap when he kicked off, leaving him with a broken wrist and a trip to the hospital. He continues with a fond smile about how his mother doted on him and how his father went and bought him a tub of his favorite ice cream. It was one of the happiest memories he had with his parents.

"Well, It's no Van Gogh, but I think Bob Ross would be proud. What do you think, Floor?" he asks, lifting his sheet up for you to see.

It's not great by any stretch, looking like something a foal would draw, but one look at his hopeful smile has you beaming. "It's great, Anon, you should be proud."

"Aww, look at you, lying to spare my feelings. I know it's shit, but I am proud of it, thanks." He looks expectantly down at your book. "What about yours? I'm sure it's way better than my fridge art."

You look down and your eyes widen in surprise. As he leans closer to get a look, you blush and flip the cover shut. "It's, uh, it's nothing, just some stupid scribbles. You wouldn't want to see."

"Of course I would, come on, Floor, I'm sure it's better than mine."

"N-no, really, it's dumb, I wasn't even paying attention when I drew them."

"Please, I showed you mine, after all. I swear I won't make fun of it. I promise," he begs.

Biting your lip, you flip the cover open some to look at your work, blush intensifying at the image scribbled at the bottom right corner of the page. Looking back up into those pleading green eyes, you sigh. "Fine, just... don't laugh," you finally concede, trying to discreetly keep a hoof over the bottom image while flipping the sketchpad back open and swiveling it around.

Triumphant, the human looks over the paper and his smile begins to fade a little. Blush burning brighter, you're about to start blurting out excuses before he begins to speak. "Wow, you really just drew these?" he asks in what you're sure is disgust. "That's amazing."

"Yeah, I know, it's weird and I'm so sor- wait, what?"

"And kind of flattering," he continues, smile returning full force. "I mean, they're little cartoon versions of us. I don't think I've looked this cute since I was a baby."

Looking back down at the paper, you try to see anything but creepy drawings of you and Anon. One doodle is of the two of you sitting down and sipping coffee together, steam from the cups forming little hearts. Another is set in the kitchen, a tall chef's hat on his head and you in an apron. There's even one of you snuggled in his lap on the couch, eyes closed as he combs your mane. All of it in a style you hadn't used since middle school.

"But it's so... foalish. D-don't you think it's stupid and that I should... grow up?" you ask tentatively.

"What? This is great, who wouldn't love these?" he answers, truly confused. "I mean, they're adorable for one, and pretty well-done too. And you said you weren't even trying?"

"W-well, I usually draw in a more... mature style like what you see in comics. Ponies don't think that's as stupid."

"Floor, I can tell you with one-hundred percent certainty that anyone who calls this stuff stupid, is probably an idiot themselves," he tells you in voice that brooks no argument.

No matter how hard you try, you can see no deception in those kind eyes, only conviction, and you sniffle. Quickly breaking eye contact, you wipe away the tears before they can begin to roll down your cheeks.

"Hey, I'm sorry, don't cry," he begins, reaching towards you, but you hold a hoof up.

"It's... it's okay, Anon, I'm fine. It's just... Thank you... for saying that." You give him a watery smile, and he gives a small sigh of relief.

"So... you draw other stuff in that?" he asks, gesturing towards your sketchbook. "Mind showing me some? I mean, if this is the kind of stuff you draw when your aren't trying, the other stuff must be amazing."

Your face absolutely glows as you nod, shutting the book so you can start at the beginning. You show him the various drawing you've done of comic book heroes, explaining a little of who they are and their powers. He doesn't even make fun of the more shippy drawings surprisingly, but that doesn't stop you from peeking at each page before showing him so as not to accidentally reveal anything lewd.

That'd be embarrassing, but nowhere near as bad as him seeing the doodle of you and him smooching, him holding you around the barrel while you wrap your front legs around his shoulders. You're glad you were able to keep that hidden, because you'd have died otherwise, and then you wouldn't be able to see Anon anymore.

And that thought utterly terrifies you.

Author's Notes:

Artist is, WhyDoMenHaveNipples