Doug grumbles to himself as he drags the cart through the streets, drawing far more attention to himself than he would like. In fact, even one pony watching him would be too much, if he had his choice. It doesn’t help that the ponies aren’t even trying to hide their consternation and dismay that he dares disturb their day. “What’s he doing back here?” “Is that Applejack’s cart?” “Didn’t Rainbow Dash get him to leave?”

It gets harder and harder to hold his tongue as Doug parks the cart outside Carousel Boutique. Hopefully it’s still there when he returns, but he somehow doubts he would get any help if one of them decided to play the hero and ‘liberated’ it from him. It’d still be the truth if he tells Applejack it was stolen, and there’s no way he’s risking life or limb for it. Hell, they’d probably take it back to her, thinking they were doing her some great service rescuing her precious cart from the ‘monster’.

You’re going overboard again. Cool off, take a deep breath. They don’t know any better. It’ll all work out in the end.

The upscale storefront at Carousel Boutique looks much more impressive than Barnyard Bargains. Fancy displays in the windows showcase long, flowing dresses and wide, flower adorned hats. He looks down, taking a long breath and letting out a heavy sigh. Walking through the streets knocked some of the caked dirt off his legs, but it’s made it worse in other places. He squats down, hands rubbing away as much of the grime as he can, but sadly it just makes his hands worse while his feet don’t really get any better. At least there aren’t any loose pieces that will fall off at the slightest provocation.

It also isn’t that busy, at least compared to Barnyard Bargains, but maybe that’s just a factor of him standing outside it. No ‘closed’ sign out front. Nopony has shooed him away yet, but he also hasn’t lingered anywhere long enough for them to need to. Well, here goes. He gets up, hand leaving a smudge on the door as he pushes it open, the bell above chiming merrily.

Inside the store, Rarity looks up from her sketchpad and the doodles of various buttons, zippers, and fasteners. She’s been going over different methods of tightening a garment after the onerous process of getting it on, especially for an earth pony. While perhaps not the main reason most eschew clothes entirely, every little frustration adds up, and if she could find some way to make it easier? Regardless, she has a customer waiting.

“Welcome to Carousel Boutique, where every garment is chic, unique, and magnifique!” Rarity steps out from her kitchen to the main storefront with a refined air about her, a pleasant smile at the joy of helping another customer find that special something that will really make them shine. Then she sees who is standing at the front of her store, and any such happy thoughts are driven from her mind like a certain jumpy brown unicorn.

“Oh,” she says icily. “It’s you.”

She immediately chastises herself. Come now, Rarity. He did say that he would be back. And it’s not his fault that Rare Find was such a… stallion. Or for how he’s been treated. Her eyes flick to the creature’s earth-stained hooves. While he somehow managed to not track copious amounts of dirt into her store, she can’t help but notice the tiny flecks ruining her otherwise pristine entryway.

“It’s me!” Doug replies, with far too much cheer in Rarity’s opinion. He follows her gaze to the floor, self-consciously scratching the back of his head. “Sorry about that,” he says quietly, though Rarity can easily hear.

“Think nothing of it,” Rarity says as her horn lights a soft cornflower blue. The sound of running water briefly comes before a broom, dustbin, and wet cloth towel levitate from the kitchen. Each are surrounded in the same light blue aura. “I have never turned a customer away for being… unrefined, and I’m not about to start now.”

Doug’s reply is a choked, “Urgh,” as his mind seizes up on him. He stands in a stupor as Rarity levitates the towel next to him, waiting for him to take it. She can use telekinesis. Telekinesis!! Effortlessly! Without needing line of sight, or a long incantation, or any sort of activation!

When he doesn’t take the towel Rarity frowns to herself. Does he expect me to play the gracious host? Perhaps it is customary for him. She brings the towel closer to his leg, lightly pressing just below the knee. When he makes no move to stop her, she continues down. She gets to his hoof, her light tug enough to get him to lift his leg despite his stupor. She wipes off the other leg as she sweeps her entryway. That wasn't so bad, now was it? And if it helps make the sale, then what's the harm in showing a little hospitality?

Except he's still standing there, lost in thought and staring at her horn. At least it's not my flanks. Did I get something on my face? Or is it my mane? Ugh, curse these Nightmare colored locks!

Clearing her throat doesn’t work. Saying, "Excuse me," a little louder does. He blinks once but keeps staring, fear and wonder etched in his eyes. "Now that we've, hmm, taken care of that matter. Welcome to Carousel Boutique. How may I help you?"

"Help…" Doug starts before coughing once. He can't stop staring. How are they so casual about flipping MAGIC?! This is insane! I mean, maybe if you grow up your whole life with it? I guess I can see that. I kind of took computers and phones and satellites for granted. Oh, she asked me a question. "Right. Um. Applejack said I could get boots here?"

"Applejack referred you?" Rarity returns with a touch of disbelief. "And here I thought she didn't care at all for what I sold."

Doug, unsure exactly how to respond to that, offers a half-smile.

"Well," Rarity delays, motioning to the various ponnequins set up around the shop, a rich variety of dresses and suits on display. Her professional demeanor returns, neutrally saying, "we sell much more than just accessories here. But if you are looking for boots, then I’m sure we can find something that… fits.” She glances down at his hooves. Hmm. They aren’t really hooves at all, are they? And both pairs are different. “Even if it does have to be custom made, it shall not be a problem. I pride myself on matching the perfect garment to my customers. Would you like to sit down over here?” She motions to the back of her store as she pulls out a privacy curtain. Hopefully he won’t scare off anypony else who comes in.

“Sure,” Doug says, making his way over. There isn’t a place to sit, but he hasn’t seen a chair yet except for some low benches along the street and Granny’s pink rocker. The bell above the front door merrily chimes as two armored pegasi walk inside. Great. Them again.

“Excuse me, Ma’am,” Hard Point says neutrally, scanning the room. She glosses over Doug to check the rest of the room. Bitter Pill lasers in on him, and Doug can feel his skin heating up. “Is this… creature bothering you?”

Rarity’s cold expression nearly dismisses the guards all on its own. “I assure you, I am perfectly fine. Doug has been nothing but a gentlecolt since he arrived.” She patiently waits for the guard to continue.

Hard Points eyes flick between Doug and Rarity, her muzzle pulling to a tight frown. “I see.” Her wing folds back, pulling out a pad of paper. “We weren’t able to get your statement from before, due to your being… indisposed.”

“Oh, that? It was all just a misunderstanding,” Rarity titters, covering her muzzle with a hoof. “Quite the funny story, really.”

Hard Point finishes writing this down, glancing back up at Rarity. She stares back at him. “Anything else you’d like to say? Perhaps a description of your side of events?”

“I’m with a customer,” Rarity explains curtly, motioning towards Doug. “I shall write up my version, and ensure it is delivered to you. Now, is there anything else?”

Hard Point flips the notebook closed as Bitter Pill scowls. “Not at the moment.” She glances to her fellow guard, the two leaving with another merry chime.

“Thanks,” Doug says quietly, turning his head to stare out the window. One of the pegasi, he can’t tell which but he has his suspicions, peers through the window back at him before turning to Applejack’s cart.

“Think nothing of it,” Rarity says calmly, brushing a bit of dirt off her coat. “Now, you wanted boots, yes?”

Doug warily watches as Rarity levitates three measuring tapes, one pad of paper, two pencils, and more swatches of fabric than he can count. He gulps as a pair of scissors joins the fray, hoping that Rarity’s control is, well, perfect. Or at the very least better than his, as shown by the light scars on his hands. “I was also hoping to get a pair or two of socks. And pants.”

Rarity raises an eyebrow. “Socks? As in, stockings? Worn over the hooves.” She looks at his hands, then glances to his eyes.

“Yes!” Doug says with a bit of a smile. “But, for my feet.” He points down at his feet.

“I see,” Rarity says. So that’s what he calls them. “Are you looking for a half set of boots, or full?” Rarity levitates one of the cloth measuring tapes to his hand. At his confused look she continues, “Most stallions just go for a half set, though it isn’t… unheard of to get all four.” A second set wraps around his foot, her pen taking notes. She frowns at the results, especially as she tries to slip the taut cloth around his ankle and past his wrist. She tears off two sheets of paper, tracing the outline of his hand and foot. “I certainly wouldn’t want to assume anything.”

“Why wouldn’t you want all four?” Doug asks, gawking at the pages surrounding him. “I mean, I’d like to get something for my hands and my feet.” He holds up his hands.

And that’s what he calls those. “Well,” Rarity pauses for a moment, her face scrunching up. “Because a stallion wouldn’t want to give the wrong impression, you see. And it can be very difficult to lose that kind of reputation.”

“What kind of reputation?” Doug frowns as Rarity levitates over two pairs of matching, well, he’ll assume they’re boots. They look to be made of a soft cotton or silk, made to fit over a pony’s hoof. One pair has a little extra padding while the other is more ornately decorated with frills and a zipper. “Um,” he starts, not really sure how to phrase his objection.

“You know,” Rarity says coyly, as if this is not a topic for polite conversation. She holds up the various swatches of fabric to his hair, his skin, his eyes, sorting them in some impossible to determine manner. Her tone gets a little dark, muttering, “It’s not like there are enough of you to go around already.” His blank expression gets her to whisper, as if it is a scandalous tidbit, “Because they are knob jockeys?”

“...What?” Doug says, an inkling of what she might be referring to.

“A prancing ponce? Plot pushers?” Rarity groans to herself, and not least because she can feel that sale slipping away. Doug still has that uncomprehending look, or maybe he just doesn’t want to believe her. She says quietly and quickly, “They are gay?”

Doug points to the boots. “You’re telling me that if I walk around town wearing something on my feet, it means I want to take it up the ass, and if I’m wearing something on my hands, it means I want to give it?”

“Context matters, of course,” Rarity explains, regaining that neutral tone when talking about these matters. “If Ponyville were in the throes of winter, then no. But during spring, if you are wearing these?” She shakes the boots. “Then yes, and I wouldn’t recommend wearing them until after the foals have gone to sleep. Boots on your... hands are a bit more neutral, as many mares find it more comfortable when their stallion wears them.”

Doug groans. “And if I was wearing a set of steel toed ice climbers? With spikes and gaiters?”

“Then I would hope your partner is wearing the same,” Rarity says without a hint of hesitation or unease. “And I would make sure that they are fully informed and consenting to all activities before I began.”

Doug covers his eyes with a hand. “Damn it,” he mutters.

“I have a pair if you’d like to try them on,” Rarity continues, though after glancing at his feet she briefly grimaces. “Or take a look, as they wouldn’t fit. I’m afraid it’s just the one. Not much demand, as I’m sure you can understand. And inventory space is a bit of a premium, especially when sales are so infrequent.”

“This really isn’t helping,” Doug says, his hand still preventing himself from looking at Rarity.

“Now, perhaps if you were wearing a set of utilitarian drudgers there wouldn’t be the same connotations, but I wouldn’t want to be caught dead in those.” Rarity sighs as Doug’s expression brightens, her own eyes closing in something between disgust and a resigned acceptance. “Please don’t tell me that’s what you want.”

“That’s exactly what I want,” Doug says, grinning at Rarity’s forlorn sigh. He peers around the room, hopeful something like that might be in sight. There isn’t. “Something made to take a beating from kicking trees, wade through the muck and grime, and scrape it all off at the end of the day without needing a new set.”

“Apple duty.” Rarity spits out the phrase like it’s a curse. No wonder she sent him to me.

Doug cocks an eyebrow. “That’s a thing?”

“Sadly, yes.” There has to be a way to best describe how awful a thing. No sense of style, just ‘practicalness’ and ‘utility’. The white fashionista, all her enthusiasm gone, idly taps a pen on a piece of paper. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what you’re looking for, and perhaps we can get you something that won’t give others the wrong impression.”

Doug motions for the paper, hesitating only slightly when Rarity levitates it to him. He takes her outline of his foot, marking it up as he says, “The sole would be something rubber, very grippy, and hopefully puncture proof. Rounded steel toe on this end, where the toes slip in, to protect against heavy things crushing them. Heavy duty canvas material around the outside; if you can do laces, so they can cinch up nice and tight, that would be great. Something along the top to prevent muck or dirt from dripping inside.”

“Galoshes.” Rarity sighs again. The. Worst. Possible. Thing. I’ll need to find some way to pay that mud pony back.

Next Chapter: Ch. 13 - Goldwyrm Estimated time remaining: 14 Hours, 55 Minutes