It took a moment, but Luke just about managed to pull his attention away from the supermodel to listen to the panicked voice in the back of his mind. Speak of the devil, Vert had said. Did that mean… Was Fleur coming up to the dock? All he could see was the pretty young mare still wearing her blue dress, those curious eyes wandering over his form as her gait slowed with each carefully measured step. A quick scan failed to reveal any potentially frail old noble mares on or around the ship.

“Jees… I thought the boss was coming,” he half laughed, leaning against the ship’s wheel and letting out an explosive sigh.

“Oh, did you?” the mare countered, her face lighting up in amusement. Her voice was silky smooth, the thick Prench accent something akin to a layer of icing on a particularly exquisite cake. Maybe this was Fleur’s granddaughter, or something? He quickly stood upright and tried to act like he had at least a small modicum of professionalism. If she really was a relative of the rich boss-mare then his ass might already be on the proverbial chopping block.

“Yeah,” he began, his eyes half-reverting back to searching for any sign of elderly mares. “I don’t know if Fleur has met a human before. I reckon the sight might startle her. Wouldn’t want to go and do that now, would I?” he chuckled. It would be just his luck if he ended up terrorising the CEO on his first day. Hell, he might just give the mare a heart attack. The tabloids would have a fucking field day: ‘GENETICALLY ENGINEERED GIBBON MAULS J’ADORE BOSS’ would be plastered all over the front page of tomorrow’s Herald.

The pretty mare’s lip trembled, and one of her ears flicked rather adorably. She grinned. “Tell me, mon cher—’ave you seen any photographs of Fleur, no?”

Luke faltered somewhat. Of course, she’d hit him with the one question to which a truthful answer would expose his half-assed approach. He’d hoped his woefully incompetent research of the company wouldn’t come to light this quickly. “Well, no. But, I did read up a little on J’adore last night,” he calmly argued, but stopped there, as he didn’t really have much more to add after that other than what was already common knowledge.

The mare gave him a slightly amused look, tilting her head so that her wavy pink mane partly obscured a pale violet eye. Damn, she’s just so pretty. Luke could probably look at her all day and not get bored.

“So, you ‘ave no idea what she looks like?”

“Well, an old noblemare, I’d imagine?” Luke reluctantly admitted. She had to be old, right? Vert said he’d worked for her for fifty years, and his face was already beginning to resemble an elephant scrotum. Fleur’s probably looked like the tired old leather backseat of a nineteen-eighties BMW.

The mare’s jaw dropped, her eyes widening. She let out a sort of strangled laugh that made him feel slightly uncomfortable.

A pause. “You really ‘ave no idea. ‘Ow… refreshing,” she mused, her pretty eyes surveying him with renewed interest.

Luke stared right back with a slightly puzzled expression. “Who are you?” he slowly asked. She was a model, that much he knew, but why exactly had she followed him up here? Come to think of it—he should have been asking himself that from the start. Pretty mares didn’t usually make a habit of following him around—especially pretty mares that required a whole other level of definition for the word ‘pretty’.

The mare didn’t answer. Instead, she flashed him a smile that made his heart do a sort of belly flop in his chest, running her tongue along a set of perfectly white teeth.

The trapdoor through which Vert had disappeared opened once again, the elderly stallion slowly clambering back out of it. His eyes found the mysterious mare and his face lit up. “It’s a good thing you’re here. I reckon I’ve fixed the old adaptation unit. Loose auxiliary crystal, it was,” he muttered, placing a forehoof on the wheel and the other on one of the golden control levers sitting beside it. “Couldn’t give her a quick whirl, could yeh?”

The mare gave a slight nod, her horn instantly flaring with an unmistakably powerful pink aura. A loud hum of energy rent the air surrounding the ship, the deck vibrating as though something big and heavy had just awoken in the depths below. “Ahh, perfect,” Vert cried, gently nudging the lever with his hoof. Luke felt the entire airship sway with each point of contact, as though it were suddenly fighting to break free from the thick mooring lines securing it to the dock. “Excellent, Fleur,” Vert jovially commended, beaming at the unicorn.

Every hair on Luke’s body seemed to stand on end. He’d like to think he’d gotten used to magic, having lived in Equestria for over a year now, but holy shit… She’d just made an entire airship move all by herself! That wasn’t normal. Wait… what was that he’d just called her?

Vert appeared oblivious. “Good thing I spotted that gem, or you might have had to wait weeks to start your training, not to mention all the location shoots that would’ve been delayed,” he chuckled heartily.

Luke stared at the mare in horror, quickly coming to realise just why she had followed him. He should have known there’d be a catch. She didn’t say anything, but her horn flared again. The pretty blue dress she was wearing gracefully fell away like the petals of a flower before his eyes, revealing her perfectly sculpted barrel and hindquarters. On those hindquarters, was the trio of stylised lilies that were her namesake. The same trio of stylised lilies that were plastered to the front of the building, the side of the airship gas bag, the uniform of nearly every employee at the company, and dozens of billboards throughout the damned city.

Vert finally noticed that all the colour had drained from Luke’s face. “You okay, lad? If that’s airsickness, then you’re in the wrong job.” He barked out a laugh.

Luke choked. He did indeed feel a barely repressed sickness well up in his stomach, but it had nothing to do with flying. Well, an old noblemare, I’d imagine? The words kept running through his head, over and over. “You… You’re F-Fleur?” he gasped. They were swiftly joined by Vert’s. Mere mortals like you and I… He was being literal. Well, shit. That meant she was... “Y-You’re immortal?”

That killer smile hit him again, and just like that, he was thirstier than a Tinder-bro after a month long fapstinence. This shit was unfair. Ponies weren’t supposed to be sexy, dammit! Multiple centuries of eternal youth in a heavily matriarchal society had evidently given her one hell of an advantage when it came to getting a guy hooked. Fuck.

“Oui, mon cher,” Fleur de Lis chuckled, her glittery laughter flowing over his ears like a fine silk.

She sounded like she had the holy grail of feminine treasures tucked away under that lovely tail of hers. Not that he wanted to find out… except he kind of did. Fuck. No. She was a horse.

A ridiculously good-looking horse, but still a damned horse. With hooves. And anime eyes. And crotch tits.

Fucking crotch tits.

Vert’s eyes widened, comprehension dawning on his lined muzzle. “You turn up for a job at J’adore, and you don’t recognise Fleur de Lis?” he asked, incredulous.

Luke tried to pull himself together, but couldn’t quite manage it. How the hell was he supposed to know? He hardly made a habit of keeping up with the pony fashion industry. He wasn’t a pony!

Fleur came to the rescue with another flash of those pearly whites. “I don’t mind. ‘Ee can ‘ardly be expected to know, when ‘ee is from anozzer world.”

Another cardiac spaz-attack. Shit… This was quickly getting out of hand. A quick clearing of the throat put him back on track. Kind of. “Ahem… Yes, um… my apologies, Lady Fleur. Princess Celestia failed to mention that you were…” he began, but immediately foundered when his carefully planned, face-saving meticulous oration was met with a very un-noble-ish snort.

Fleur de Lis brought a dainty white hoof to her muzzle, barely holding back a fit of giggles. What the hell? Was this a joke to her? Was she just playing with him before she fired his ass? Even Vert looked as though he was failing to hold back a smirk.

Fleur’s demeanour took on that of a poorly conceived facade, and she lifted her muzzle as though she was trying to scratch her back with the tip of her horn. “See to eet that you do not fail to acknowledge my most venerable excellency in the future, young colt! ‘Lady’ Fleur de Lis does not tolerate ignorance from anypony! Not even uneducated peasants such as yourself!”

Vert fell over, his forehooves clutching his sides. He may as well have been having a heart attack from the way he writhed around on the deck—he was at that age—but the uncontrollable laughter certainly suggested otherwise.

A glance back to Fleur revealed a smug grin on her flawlessly pretty face. It was pretty obvious that this pony did not require a filter. “Hilarious,” Luke deadpanned, throwing all caution over the side of the building.

She ran her tongue over her teeth again—aww, fuck—her eyelids lowering to very unbusinesslike levels. Now, Luke wasn’t overly perspicacious when it came to judging character, but she was either fucking with him, or she wanted to fuck him. Or both.

The possibility that the latter theory may have held some truth was positively terrifying… but most unlikely. Though she clearly didn’t act like one, Fleur was still a noble.

“I think you will fit right in here, mon cher,” she purred.

The sunlight caught the sapphire in her collar, and the flash of dazzling blue was mimicked in her eyes for just the briefest of moments as she licked her lips. Once again, the same feeling of curious unease struck him, but he couldn’t quite put a finger on it. In fact, he wasn’t even sure ‘unease’ was an adequate description.

“Fleur!” called a voice, promptly shattering the gathering tension like a bowling ball through a mirror. Luke could’ve sworn he’d heard Fleur emit a small nicker from her muzzle, but it may have just been the creaking of the ship.

A strikingly red, long-legged mare with a wispy white mane and tail was cantering across the dock, her eyes brimming with curiosity. Her muzzle was a slightly different shape to that of the average Equestrian mare. It could be argued that she was perhaps the Equadorian counterpart of “Arabian” horses back on Earth, but Luke wasn’t too keen on querying such a presumption.

“Photo says she needs you back down in the studio for group shots,” the mare said, her middle eastern accent confirming Luke’s suspicions. Her eyes swept over him, and she gave him a smile not unlike the one Fleur had given him not a moment ago.

Luke returned a smile of his own, out of politeness more than anything, something Fleur silently observed with an odd, if not blank stare. A second glance revealed nothing out the ordinary, however, as did a third, more in-depth look at the boss-mare’s face.

“Ah, Viola! Yes, of course. I am sure Vert and Luc will manage without me for now,” Fleur replied, flashing Luke a glance. He quickly stopped staring.

“Don’t be gone for too long, now. Can’t teach him how to fly with the ship stuck at the dock all day,” Vert chuckled, who had barely paid any attention to the exchange and was busy fiddling with the assortment of levers next to the ship’s wheel.

“Au revoir!” Fleur chirped, springing over the gangway like a frolicing foal. “Come, Viola. We mustn't be late!”

The Arabian mare was quickly encompassed in a pink aura, picked right up off the dock, spun one-eighty degrees and popped back down again, all in the blink of an eye. She was afforded one dizzy glance back at the ship before she was swiftly herded into the elevator.

Once the doors closed, Luke turned to face the pegasus at his side. A barrage of snorts escaped Vert’s muzzle, despite the hoof held up to his face.

“What?” Luke muttered, summoning all mental restraint to keep from rolling his eyes. It wouldn’t be wise to piss of his mentor on his first day, no matter how much of an ass he was currently being.

“Have yeh been living under a rock?” Vert wheezed, slapping a forehoof to the wheel and panting between laughs like a grizzly bear with a chest infection. “Ah get that yer different and all, but how can yeh live in the city of Canterlot and not know who Fleur de Lis is?”

Luke scowled, feeling more and more stupid by the minute. “I thought she’d be… well, old!” he argued. Was it too much to assume that old meant a face full of wrinkles, tins of Werther's Originals and pony Alzheimer’s? Well, maybe that was exaggerating a little, but still...

Vert laughed even harder. “My dear colt—she is old!”

“No, I mean… I thought she’d look old… But, she looks…” Several words came to mind, absolutely none of which a human should ever use to describe a quadruped. That didn’t stop Luke, though. He cursed under his breath.

Vert’s snorts died down a little, the stallion levelling Luke with a knowing look. “Don’t be getting any ideas, colt. You’d have to have angels flying out of yer arse to get with the likes of Fleur.”

“Yeah—I wasn’t getting any ideas,” Luke hastily countered, trying his best to ignore the veritable swarm of ideas bouncing around his mind.

Vert snickered. “Hey, yeh don’t need to lie. Ah don’t blame yeh. Hell, ah’ve tried a few times myself, over the years,” he admitted. “O’ course, she never really took anypony seriously, perhaps least of all the rich noblestallions. She don’t need their bits, that’s fer sure,” he chuckled.

“So, she’s single?” Damn it. Luke coughed, bringing a fist to his mouth, but that just made him look like even more of an idiot.

Vert’s resultant, overly-smug smile made his skin crawl. “She don’t do relationships, but yer welcome to try. Just promise me you’ll let me know in advance. Ah love watching her reject folk.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Luke muttered. He had no trouble picturing what Fleur’s reaction would no-doubt be if he was actually stupid enough to try and make a move on her. Any icy shudder ran the full length of his spine at the implication.

“Oh, it’s practically an art form. She’s very good at it. Real polite and gentle like, but you can tell the guy’s heart still shatters into a thousand pieces. She doesn’t much care for that part, but ah don’t think she can help it all that much.”

“Can we just get to the learning now?” Luke snapped, perhaps a tad too ferociously.

Vert didn’t appear to be remotely offended. “Alright, alright—I’m just messin’ with yeh,” he chuckled. “Happens to all the new guys at the firm after they meet the boss. Just take note of the warnin’, though, and there is an actual warnin’ in there besides the teasin’. Don’t go barking up Fleur’s tailpipe, ‘cause there ain’t no guy—be it you, me, or even fancy folks like Prince Blueballs and his ilk that’re gettin’ a crack at what’s under there.”

Fleur was not the best company for her noble peers at Hoity Toity’s luncheon later that day, though only Photo Finish knew her well enough to realise that something was playing on the mare’s mind. In a word, it was annoying.

“What is bothering you, Fraulein? You’re eating even less than you normally would.”

“Nothing, mon amie,” Fleur persisted for the third time in around half an hour. She idly watched a waiter trot by, a platter of hors d'oeuvres expertly balanced on his back, but she was in no mood for pretentious food.

Ever since Fleur had laid eyes on Luke, the siren seemed to want nothing more than to follow him around like a lost puppy, and resorted to rattling around the inside of Fleur’s mind whenever he wasn’t in her direct line of sight. Three photoshoots of trouve Luc... parle lui... fait le sourrire, was enough to make anypony lose focus. Sure, the human was pleasant enough, and ended up being quite a pleasure to converse with after he’d figured out she wasn’t going to fire him for not recognising her. But she just didn’t understand the obsession. Even now, the siren was muttering in the back of her mind.

Veux Luc.

Fleur was evidently too slow to disguise her look of exasperation, as Photo Finish, annoyingly knowledgeable as always, called her out. “Is it ze pilot?”

“Non!” Fleur snapped. Several ponies, Hoity Toity among them, glanced around at her outburst. She quickly grabbed a nearby copy of the Canterlot Herald. “Fleetfoot did not win ze Wonderbolts’ derby.”

Veux Luc.

“Blast! Such a shame, I myself had high hopes for that mare,” Hoity added, before turning back to the one of the delegates from Saddle Arabia he was currently chatting to.

Photo leaned in, lowering her voice so none of the party guests could hear her. “It’s her, isn’t it? She’s pining for him, ja?”

“Non, she’s just…” But Fleur hadn’t the foggiest idea just exactly what her siren was up to. For all of the years she had lived, through wartime, famine, peace and windigo ice age, the ancient water demon had never shown the slightest bit of emotion towards another living being that hadn’t been rage. That was an emotion that had been all too common in the first few centuries of their shared eternal existence. But wanting to talk… to make somepony smile? It was practically unheard of for a siren.

Veux Luc.

Mais pourquoi, ma vielle amie?

The siren did not answer, choosing instead to claw restlessly at the inside of Fleur’s mind. Fleur let out a dejected sigh. This was becoming tiresome.

She knew hardly anything about him, but her dark counterpart was adamant that they should be spending all of their time with him, despite that being practically impossible to justify. Ponies would start to talk, and Fleur knew from experience that ponies talking often twisted the truth to extreme proportions. The only viable option she had was to fast-track his practical flight training. Of course, that would mean altering her schedule—something she probably couldn't get away with for very long, if at all…

“Come. Ve go!” Photo suddenly announced, grabbing Fleur around the midsection and practically hauling her away. Pulled from her thoughts, Fleur allowed herself to be whisked from the party, the siren still prowling restlessly in her head.

Please point out any typos/editing/formatting issues if you happen to spot any. :-P

The French in this chapter is awful. If you speak French, I can only apologise.

Next chapter is at 3k at the time of posting this.