Doug starts low on Rarity’s neck, just under her mane. His fingernails scratch into her skin, pushing the soft hairs to the side as he slowly travels upwards. It gives Rarity plenty of time to adjust to the odd sensation; when Aloe and Lotus work her over on her weekly spa trip, they almost always start between her ears and work their way down, spending very little time on the bottom of her neck. She can’t deny it feels good, though the back of her mind insists that he’s going to ruin her coiffure any second now.

“So,” Doug asks, slowly maneuvering his hand into the base of her mane, “Is Shadow Spade a book series or an author?”

“The main character of the series,” Rarity says somewhat shakily, finding herself enjoying the odd sensation more and more. Every time he pushes further into her mane her anxiety flares up, even as she wills her body to be still. Yet his fingers keep finding those tense spots, the tight little wads of muscle along her spine, and he unrelentingly digs into them. She allows herself to be pushed down, her body going limp as she allows the intrusion. I wonder if he'll start working the other direction.

“Never heard of it,” Doug says, his other hand coming to stroke his chin. “They any good?” His hand returns to his massage, trying to tease out the kinks he keeps coming across. Man, she’s tense. I hope she’s not terrified of me, and just putting up a good face. He continues upwards, piercing into the thick, luxurious purple mane.

“Are they any good,” Rarity scoffs, though shaking her head like she wants to would most certainly ruin her appearance. “I hold myself to the highest standards, and that includes the literature I read.” She glances over at Doug. He looks receptive enough, unlike most of the other ponies in this town. “I highly recommend it. I own the entire series, if you would like to borrow one. The first is Shadow Spade and the Murgese Falcon.”

“Maltese,” Doug automatically corrects. Wait. Where did that come from? A book I haven’t read, but I know the name? Or was it a movie? Both? He frowns to himself as his hand scratches harder, trying to cover his confusion.

“No,” Rarity says carefully. Her back arches, a sharp intake of breath. That was unexpected, going that rough. Though if he can keep up then I may have to schedule some non-work related appointments with him. “Murgese. It’s a small area near Bitaly.”

“You and your damn horse puns,” Doug says jokingly, sighing to himself. Every other name is a play on something, it seems. Equestria, Canterlot, Ponyville. Even Carousel Boutique.

“Excuse me,” Rarity snaps, clearly offended. How dare he use such language! In all my years, I have never done anything of the sort! Despite what I was just thinking. Her brow narrows, turning her head to glare at him. Doug can tell it’s not faked this time, his hand reluctantly withdrawing from her mane.

“I’m sorry,” he says, slightly confused. “Pony puns? I didn’t mean to imply anything.”

Rarity snorts, getting up. And it was going so well, too. But one slip up should not a character define. But that doesn’t mean some form of punishment isn’t in order. What a shame; I was just beginning to relax. “Indeed. So, just the, ahem, jackboots?”

“I guess,” Doug says glumly, not just because he was enjoying the massage nearly as much as Rarity. “But, um, I don’t have any bits. My original hope was to get an estimate, or something like that, see what was available.”

“I see,” Rarity says guardedly. There was never a chance for a sale? You poor, delusional idealist. “I estimate fifty bits for materials, plus labor and a custom fee. You won’t find a better price, anywhere. Not for the kind of quality you’re looking for.”

“Well, maybe I can offer some work,” Doug continues, a little hope in his voice. “I don’t know if there’s anything you need help with around the store, odd jobs, that sort of thing.” He looks down at his hands. “I’ll take pretty much anything.”

“Hmm,” Rarity hums, considering. I don’t need help dyeing fabric, tedious as it is. Can’t exactly have him run the counter, not yet. He doesn’t look like he can carry that much, but my excavation trips have never been difficult because of the weight. And with Rare Find out of the picture… “How comfortable are you walking near the Everfree?”

“Near?” Doug says, shrugging. He looks up at Rarity, slowly going from wary to hopeful. “Applejack warned me against going into the Everfree, but if you think it’s safe, then sure. Whatever.”

“I was supposed to go on a bit of an excursion later today, but after Rare Find pulled out I did a bit of rescheduling.” Rarity chews on her lip for a moment. “Would you be interested in coming along as a porter and bodyguard?”

“What exactly happens during these ‘excursions’,” Doug asks, looking around the room. What would she possibly use after a bunch of digging? Gold? And what is a pony capable of telekinesis scared of that I would be able to do anything about? Besides shit my nonexistent pants, or serve as a decoy. Damnit, I’m a decoy, aren't I? Well, hopefully she can fight off whatever is out there, and I'm not just the one she has to run faster than.

“We would walk down to the Ghastly Gorge.” Rarity chuckles at the way Doug’s head snaps back to her. “Don’t worry, it’s not that bad. Really. It would take two, two and a half hours to get there, and maybe three more to fill several bags full of gems. I locate them, and you dig them out. How much can you carry?”

Did I hear that correctly? Gems? As in, precious gemstones? Or are they not terribly valuable if they are common? “Um, let’s see. If I’m walking that far, probably twenty C’s.” I hope I converted that correctly. And used the right word. “But, I might need to ask Applejack about getting a shovel or pickax if you need me digging. And I would need those boots done. I don’t exactly have hooves to protect my feet.”

“That shall not be a problem.” Sadly, because I have little else to work on. “I have a pickax, though I fear the proportions would be slightly off for you.” Rarity eyes Doug’s arms, frowning. “Was there anything else you would like for doing this?” One set of jackboots is certainly not enough compensation, and I would hate to take advantage of him. And if I can barter items instead of bits, so much the better.

“You know, as long as I’m not using my bare hands, I’ll be happy.” Doug taps a finger against his chin, which he then stares at. “Actually, could you make a set of gloves? For my hands. It would be similar to the boots; some sort of thick material, I would say leather, but whatever you use.” He points to the chaps, leaning against the wall.

“Leather is a bit… taboo,” Rarity says, pulling out the picture of his hand. Now, this is an interesting problem. With how dextrous his hands are, it would need to be both flexible and comfortable while maintaining good support. “Only a griffon would insist on the genuine article. But I have access to several materials that are very similar.” She eyes his actual hand, frowning. Quite the conundrum, really. “Though it might take a few iterations to fit perfectly.”

“I guess you wouldn’t have much experience with fingers,” Doug says, twiddling his around.

“I do not,” Rarity admits, smiling to herself.

Doug takes a deep breath, a bit of his dourness fading as he starts explaining, “So, the gloves would completely encapsulate each finger and thumb, going all the way down to the wrist. My thumb can squeeze next to my palm, so the wrist needs to be just slightly larger than the palm to accommodate the hand slipping inside. Or you can make it of a stretchy material, or velcro together or something, but it should be a very snug fit. In fact, ‘fits like a glove’ is an expression we have because you have to be intentional about making gloves fit correctly; it's not something you can just half-ass, or you'll get hurt from heavy use. Although, so is the expression ‘if the glove fits’.” Doug coughs nervously.

“Fascinating,” Rarity says as she crafts a quick sample from her scrap fabrics. “Most stockings are made of an elastic material, so they tend to be in the ‘one size fits all’ category, while boots have clasps or zippers. Laces tend towards unicorn wear, as few pegasi have the dexterity required for anything but the largest of bows.”

“Applejack seems pretty handy with knots,” Doug counters, thinking back to her cart. How did she slip in and out of that cart with so little trouble? Experience? Maybe like you and a jacket.

“True, but tying up a boot tends to take one of your hooves out of play. Maybe not a problem with the back hooves, but certainly with the front.” Rarity tries the glove on Doug, noting the tightness. She rips it back to the constituent pieces as she asks, “So, what is ‘velcro’?”

“It, um,” Doug says before pausing. Oh, jeez. Is this the first time I’ve mentioned an invention that I haven’t seen here? I’ve got to be really careful about talking about anything from back home. Even simple things like Velcro that might improve their quality of life. Not because I don’t want to help them. But their Royal Guards were using spears. Flying cavalry is a cool concept, but incredibly impractical to basically anything developed after World War One. Also, these ponies use magic, and I have no idea on the limits of it. Can they read minds? If I draw suspicion to myself, and that introduces the concept of a rifle, and it sparks some escalation between nations?

“Well,” Rarity says good-naturedly at the long pause, “if it’s that hard to explain then perhaps you don’t need to.” Or he doesn’t know how it works, merely the name.

Doug gives her a half smile, and shrugs.

“You know, after Rare Find left, I was terribly worried about finding a replacement.” Rarity sighs disappointedly, shaking her head. “Everypony in Ponyville is terrified of that forest and anything that comes out of it. They have their reasons, of course, and they’re good ones. But it’s refreshing to find somepony who isn’t afraid of going near it, where it’s perfectly safe.”

“Yeah,” Doug chuckles nervously, scratching the back of his head again. “Somepony, all right.”

Rarity chuckles to herself, casting a twinkling eye at Doug. “Well, as safe as anywhere is around here. There could be monsters lurking around any corner!”

“Then why…” Doug catches Rarity’s eye, smiling himself. “Oh, you’re talking about me. Touché.”

“Was there anything else you would like?” Rarity pauses as Doug thinks for a moment, then shakes his head. “Especially because I can sometimes go a bit overboard, taking more time than I thought I would need. I would hate for you to feel undercompensated.” Rarity quickly sews the second glove together, Doug amazed at the intricate needlework, and giving it another test. “I was worried about making it back in time for Pinkie Pie’s…” Rarity’s eyes go wide as she looks at her front door. “Welcome to Ponyville Party… oh, no.” She takes a fearful step backwards.

“Oh, no?” Doug echoes, getting up into a crouch. “Is Pinkie Pie that pink pony I saw bouncing around before?”

“Don’t say her name again!” Rarity squeals. “I just organized everything! It’s possible she-”

The front door slams open, the bell above chiming madly, an explosion of confetti littering the store.

Next Chapter: Ch. 15 - Soul Strike Estimated time remaining: 14 Hours, 37 Minutes