Moondancer and Anonymous shared a two-seater at the opulent theater close to the stage, a pair of hoof-rests the only barrier between them. That didn’t make him uncomfortable; Anonymous’ ‘accidental’ touches while waiting for the lecture to start did. They were warm and he wanted it to stop.

“Would you please keep your hooves to yourself? Woolly is due to talk any minute now!”

Moondancer flinched away from Anonymous’ hoof as it patted his shoulder, “Relax, dude, these seats are just super uncomfortable. Hard to settle in—speak of the devil.”

The theater cools from bubbling noise to a simmer of whispers as Woolly Words took the stage. An ancient, bald thing with liver spots and an off-white coat walks over to the podium aided by a cane. He coughed into the mic and brought silence.

“Good evening. I hope you are all well. My name is Woolly Words, and I’m an author, best known for Harmony Lost and Redshift, Blueshift, among a few others. As a writer of science-fiction that has been around for many, many years, I must say I am dissatisfied with the majority of what I have read; thus, I will be breaking my vow on teaching by example and lecture, instead. This lecture will be about the most important, least seen aspect in science-fiction today: characters…”

Moondancer elbowed Anonymous’ creeping leg off the hoofrest, shooting him a glare. He pretended not to notice. Moondancer’s resistance to the little contacts here and there waned as Woolly Words’ lecture picked up. The old pony had a dry wit that accompanied skilled oration to keep him invested, to the point where he didn’t notice Anonymous’ foreleg rubbing against his until the lecture wrapped up an hour and a half later. He jerked away, “How long were you doing that?”

“Eh?” Anonymous looked down at his leg and shrugged, “Didn’t even notice. But, damn, what a great lecture!”

“How could you not notice you were rubbing up against me?”

“I got comfortable. You don’t question comfortable, ‘specially not when it’s as elusive as it is in these awful seats.” Anonymous stretched himself over the seatback, making too much noise.

Moondancer cringed, looking around, “Don’t be so loud. Ponies are staring at us.”

“Like I give a shit when I’m your date. Let’em.”

“I am not your date. This is not a date. We are never going on a date.”

“Whatever, dude.” Anonymous slid out of his seat, eyes on Moondancer as he joined him on the ground. They followed the crowds out together, “So, did Woolly name-dropping Posie Prose herself finally convince you that—”

“—a broken clock is right twice a day? It’s good evidence.” Moondancer rolled his eyes, “Was that the only reason you brought me here? To prove a point?”

“Nah, it was to prove two points. He spent, like, fifteen minutes dedicated to the magnum opus that was the final chapter—the REAL one—of Harmony Lost. How deep the character threads went, how things couldn’t have turned out any differently, how everything from the setting to the premise was purpose-built to tell the story of unrequited love that ended the only way it could have—in tragedy.”

Moondancer’s eyes rolled again, “The characters being so developed were hardly necessary. The ideas explored were the main attraction, and what ideas they were! Don’t tell me you didn’t feel even a hint of wonder when he described the process Earth Ponies used to synthesize fuel for—”

“Nerrrd.”

His eyes completed a third revolution around the room, “Of course you didn’t.”

“Hey, I did appreciate it. It sounded pretty cool, I think? That was the bone juice analogy, right?”

“Bone juice?”

“The fresh squeezed bone juice, millions of years in the making.”

“That’s not fresh. And it wasn’t described as juice! And many more components went into it than just bones. The actual basis of the fuel was—”

Anonymous checked Moondancer’s side as they left the theater, an island in the thronging crowd, “Nerrrrrd.”

Moondancer huffed, “You are such a jerk.”

Anonymous flashed a smile, “So, where should we go next?”

Moondancer looked up at the starry night overhead. He didn’t like how city lights dimmed the depths of space, but he could imagine what it must have looked like. The moon was still low in the sky, the evening young, “If I make it back to my dorm, I’d be able to get some more studying in.”

“What? This can’t be the end of our date!”

“It’s not a date.” Moondancer turned with a shrug for the campus, clopping down the lamp-lit cobblestone road, “Being able to listen to a lecture by Woolly Words was fun, though. I appreciate the opportunity.”

Anonymous trotted up beside Moondancer, too close for comfort, “Don’t you at least want to get a bite to eat, or something? You can’t study on an empty stomach.” He turned his head to look back at Moondancer’s hindquarters, a lilt to his voice, “Although something tells me you don’t have that problem~”

Moondancer’s ears folded, “You’re rather rude for a hypothetical date. Is this how you treat all the mares you hook up with?”

“Ponies enjoy positive attention paid to their appearance, Moondancer.” Anonymous slipped a wing over him, but Moondancer slid out from it on reflex. “Anyway, see any place you want to eat at? My treat.”

“Calling a pony fat isn’t positive,” Moondancer mumbled under his breath. Anonymous showed no signs of hearing it. Moondancer slowed down and looked around the street. If Anonymous was paying, he may as well get a free meal. Prench… would be too expensive. That bistro looked expensive, too; his eyes kept wandering, seeing crowds of ponies seated at tables and lines of would-be diners waiting for an open spot, “Every place here looks too expensive or busy. Actually, I know a Chineighse place. It’s one of those hole-in-the-wall restaurants that never draws a crowd. If you’re paying, I may as well get something I know I’ll like.”

“So kind of you to not want to waste my bits, Moondancer.”

“If you’re worried about that, we can just go to a Hayburger. Although I think you’d get a better bang for your bits with my place.”

“A better bang, huh~? I wouldn’t mind that, not at all.” Anonymous’ laughter made Moondancer blush and walk faster, speeding up into a trot. Anon caught up. “Hungry, are ya? Yeah, let’s go get Chineighse. I’d love to see one of your oh-so-rare haunts.”

Moondancer stayed quiet and trotted faster. Anonymous, thankfully, took the hint, and the two stallions were off.

It really was a hole in the wall. One covered by a glass door and dimly lit by a red-and-white sign saying Chineighse, several ponies inside eating at one of the three tables that could be squeezed into the little shop without receiving a fine by the fire marshall. The adjoining buildings looked little better; Canterlot’s backstreets had cheaper rent for a reason.

The bells chimed as they entered. Moondancer was greeted like family by the blaze-bearded earth pony working the counter, “Moondancer! So good of you to visit tonight. What’ll you and your friend be having?”

Moondancer smiled, happy to see somepony he actually liked. “Di San Xian for me, Dim Sun. I don’t know about him.” Moondancer turned his head, but Anonymous was no longer beside him.

“I’ll have what he’s having!” Anonymous called from the sole two-seater table, leaning his chair back until it touched the white-washed wall. A fiery glare from Dim Sun had him stop leaning on the chairs, a little embarrassment on his snout.

The register opened. Dim Sun looked at Moondancer. Moondancer looked at Anonymous. Anonymous threw a bag of jangling bits across the room with an underhoofed pitch, Moondancer shaking off surprise in time to catch it in his magic. He shot a glare over his back before counting out the bits. He sighed at Dim Sun’s raised eyebrow, “No, I don’t know why I’m hanging out with him, either.”

Dim Sun nodded, “It’s like that sometimes. Food’ll be out in a jiffy!”

Moondancer levitated the purse back with him to the table, sitting across from Anonymous. The pegasus leaned on the table, scratching his mane, “The fuck’s Di San Xian, anyway?”

“Why did you say you’d have it if you didn’t even know what it was?”

“I figured a gourmet like you would know what’s up.”

“Gourme—I am not fat!”

“Whoa, relax! I’m just saying you know what’s good in life. Besides, I like a little heft.” Anonymous’ leg was expertly kicked away by Moondancer before it could connect, “Relaaax. We’re all friends, here. You, me, that dude behind the counter...”

“Friends don’t call each other fat, even if they joke about liking it.”

“What makes you think it’s a joke, dude?” Anonymous leans further across the table, a twinkle to his eyes as he stares down Moondancer.

Moondancer looked away and sputtered, unable to form words. Anonymous leaned back in his chair with a smirk, clearing the table for Dim Sun. He sets down a tray with two teacups and a teapot with steam streaming out the spout, a half-opened box of sugar cubes provided alongside it. “It’ll be a little while longer on the food.”

Moondancer thanked him and magicked one lump into his cup, dissolving it with hot orange pekoe poured over. Anonymous hoofed three lumps into his cup and held it out for Moondancer. Moondancer leveled his brow, “Take one out.”

A state of confusion drew borders on Anonymous’ snout, “Are you actually doing this right now?”

Moondancer levitated the teapot out of Anonymous’ reach, his face unchanging, “Yes. Take one out.”

Anonymous scrunched, “I know how I like my tea, Moondancer.”

“You like it wrong. Take one out.”

“Fuck you, I’m not taking one out. Pour me my damn tea.”

Moondancer stared Anonymous down, “Take. One. Out.”

Anonymous stared back. The contest held, neither stallion willing to blink or budge. An errant under-table hoof slid along the underside of Moondancer’s thick thigh, making him jump, splashing tea from the pot on the table. “I am going to pour this over you if you don’t stop sniggering and take one out.”

Anonymous let loose a melodramatic sigh somewhere in his fit of giggles, “Fiiiiiine, I’ll take one out.” He dumped his cup over the sugarcube box and puts two back in, “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“I am not cute.” Moondancer poured Anonymous tea after dragging the box of sugarcubes to his side of the table. “And you’re wasting that chance you begged for. Jerk.”

Anonymous frowned at the box being taken out of reach. He swirled the cup of tea, smelling it, “I don’t see you walking out on me.” He sipped, mulling it. “... Nah, needs another. Hoof my blocks over.”

“I’m about to ask for a take-out box.”

“C’mon, don’t be like that. Look, I’m sorry.” Anonymous reached across the table.

Moondancer took his hoof off the box of sugarcubes, “If you’re sorry, then act like it.” He winced as Anonymous plonked another cube into his tea and sipped with satisfaction. “You need to stop drinking soda if you need three cubes. Two is understandable, but three is one too many.”

“Am I the one that looks like he chugs soda all day, here? In case you haven’t noticed, I got an athlete’s build, while you… do not. Not that that’s a bad thing, though. I think I already mentioned that.” Anonymous sipped more tea, “Mmm. Three is perfect.”

“Academic achievement leaves little time for physical exertion.”

“I ain’t complainin’, dude. Oh, food’s here!”

Dim Sun balanced two heaping plates on a tray on his back, sliding it off onto the table, “Enjoy!” There’s barely enough space for both trays. After nods to the chef and a quick game of tetronimos, the table is overloaded in a manageable way with napkins, drinks, and dinner.

The white, square plates curved up at the corners, each heaped high with a trio of crisp, seared vegetables on white rice, covered with sesame seeds and a fragrant garlic and soy sauce, slivers of scallions scattered throughout. Black eggplant slices and vibrant green bell peppers chunks contrasted the skin-on potato quarters. Moondancer dipped his head down and ate, a mouthful of savory delight playing on his tongue, biting through the fried vegetables’ fragile exterior into the tender center with a happy hum, licking his lips of errant rice.

Anonymous made a show of his enjoyment, the noises he made borderline pornographic and worryingly sweet to Moondancer’s ears. “Hot damn, this is great! How do you get eggplant to be this crispy?!”

A laugh boomed from the back, “It’s what eggplant you use, my friend, not how you cook it! It’s a special variety from my home country. Difficult to get, but oh-so-rewarding!”

Anonymous went back to stuffing his face. Moondancer made an approving grunt and followed suite. There was inexcusable pride in hearing Anonymous loving the food, but he felt it all the same. At least he could enjoy Anonymous being too busy to talk.

“So, tell me about yourself.”

Moondancer shed an internal tear for peace cut down in its prime. “What kind of question is that?”

Food splattered back onto the plate as Anonymous talked with his mouth half-full, “Iunno, like, a friendly one?”

“Disgusting.”

“Sorry,” Anonymous swallowed.

“It’s a stupid question to ask. It’s too broad, too vague. Tell you what about myself? Should I give you a chronological overview of my life? Tell you my favorite color, or food, or something else equally trite? See, this is the problem with small talk; it’s just a waste of—”

“Goddamn, dude, it’s just a question. You don’t need to give a lecture on it.”

Moondancer huffed, “If you actually care, ask a meaningful question instead.”

“What do you consider to be a meaningful question, then, so I don’t send you into a temper-tantrum?”

“I’m not having a temper-tantrum. I’m explaining why this perfunctory social activity of ‘small-talk’ is a pointless endeav—”

A held-up hoof interrupted him, “What do you want to do after you graduate?”

“Ah… go onto graduate school. Then earn my doctorate, get a spot in HAPL for my pet project, manadynamics of lunar bodies in cold-nebula stellar precursors. Dr. Quanthum works there, and he should know me through Dr. Nebulebray, so I have an in. You didn’t understand any of that.”

Anonymous shook his head, “The fuck’s a HAPL?”

“Horsekins Applied Physics Lab?”

Anonymous stared at Moondancer. Moondancer pushed his glasses up with a sigh, “The leading research and development lab in Equestria for astrophysics, among many other disciplines? Everypony who’s anypony in physics fields works there. It’s the lab. Everywhere else is a pale imitation for hacks.”

“Nerd shit, gotcha. You’re not gonna have any problems with that, guaranteed.” Anonymous resumed eating.

Moondancer rubbed his temples, “Uuuuugh… damn liberal arts majors.” He used the silence to go back to cleaning his plate.

“Sho—gulp—so is that it?”

“What do you mean, ‘is that it’? I know exactly where I’m going and how I’m going to get there. What more could there be?”

“I mean, good on you for having goals, but like… you don’t want to travel? Meet a band you love? Find love? Get married, have foals...”

Moondancer growled, “No.”

“No to what? The foals?”

“I’d be too busy with research.”

Anonymous scooched forward, closing the distance between them. “But do you want them?”

“I… I want to work at HAPL.”

Moondancer watched Anonymous pick up his cup of tea and take a sip. He hummed, “More?”

Moondancer looked down at his plate of food. Anonymous leaned over his, “You want to work at that lab more than you want to have a wife and kids?”

“Of course I do. What kind of stupid question is that?” Moondancer dived back into his plate, close to finishing the meal.

“Hmmm.” Anonymous reclined and took another sip, “So you do want to start a family?”

Moondancer pulled away from his food, “No, I… I don’t know.” He licked his lips, savoring the coated grains of rice.

Anonymous stuck his tongue out and moved his head forward, stopped, retracted his tongue, and picked up a napkin, pushing it at Moondancer’s face. “You missed a spot.” He giggled at Moondancer’s consternation, “Uh, sorry. It’s—it’s an older brother thing…”

“I’d hate to see how anypony related to you turned out…”

“C’mon, don’t be like that. I’m an only child, anyway. I volunteered at the orphanage.”

Moondancer quirked an eyebrow, “Community service?”

“Fuck’s sake, dude, I’m a jerk, not a criminal. Besides, they liked me well enough. I’m cool.” Anonymous flashed a cock-sure grin.

Moondancer found a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, shaking his head to hide it, “You don’t need wings to fly when you have all that hot air.”

“You love me.”

Moondancer hid his mouth with a hoof, “You wish. The only thing you’re good at is annoying me.”

“I do wish.”

Moondancer sputtered into his hoof, wetting it. He stopped himself from wiping it on his sweater, using the napkin Anonymous dirtied instead, “What do you—”

Anonymous burst out laughing, tears coming to his eyes, “The look on your face! Holy shit, you thought I was serious?”

Moondancer hit the table, “When you say stuff like that so seriously, it’s hard to tell!” His ears flushed hot as Anonymous held his stomach, bending over, “Why do you keep fu— scr—… messing with me?!”

“Beca—hah—ause you’re too damn cute!”

The boiling point was reached. “I’m leaving.” Moondancer pushed the table into Anonymous and stood up.

“H-Hey, wait! Don’t leave!” Anonymous pushed back against the table, freeing himself to chase Moondancer out the door, “I’m sorry! I’ll stop messing with you, so don’t—”

Moondancer spun around, red, “You’re not sorry! You’ve just been making fun of me the entire night. I’m some kind of joke to you. That’s it, isn’t it? Just some—some kind of big joke! Brought me out here to laugh at!”

Anonymous backpedaled, “Dude, I didn’t mean—”

“My name isn’t DUDE! It’s MOONDANCER!” Moondancer advanced. He could see ponies staring, scurrying along in the street. He didn’t care.

Shrinking back, Anonymous stumbled for words, “M-Moondancer, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“If you’re sorry, then act like it. I told you that already, right?” He stomped forward, “Tonight was supposed to be an apology, right? You’re really fucking bad at apologies, Anonymous!” Moondancer blinked away a tear. Then another.

Anonymous’ head hung low beneath Moondancer’s brow-beating rage, “I know. Look, I—I’m trying, alright? I—”

“Trying isn’t good enough.”

“But I AM trying, ain’t I? I drew you that poster, I wrote an apology, I took you to a lecture by your favorite author, I paid for your lunch, I—”

“—acted like a jerk the whole time you were doing it! You keep stringing me along with favors and presents so you can keep me around! Like—like you were buying me off to be your friend!”

Anonymous’ silence was damning. The pegasus was folded on the cold stone of the sidewalk, on the verge of tears himself.

“Like you were…”

“M’sorry, dude…”

“You… were.”

Anonymous hiccuped.

The realization was like being dunked in cold water. Moondancer looked down at the younger stallion before him, the one he just shouted down to the ground, a tear-stained, shaking leaf. Shame pushed his anger onto the backburner as he reached out and hoofed at Anonymous’ withers, “Uh, I… l-let’s go back inside…”

Anonymous nodded, limping out of view of pedestrians through the door. Moondancer follows with his tail tucked and head low.

Dim Sun stopped cleaning off the table when the bells chimed at their entrance, “That was quite a… ah, back for seconds? I’ll get you a fresh pot of tea.” He gives Moondancer and Anonymous a fatherly smile, trotting off to the back with dirty plates and cold tea.

The restaurant was empty.

Anonymous flopped into his seat and buried his head in crossed legs atop the table. Moondancer stood there, staring at him. What was he supposed to make of this? Moondancer’s anger wasn’t satisfied by making Anonymous cry; it was redirected at himself, and that made him feel awful. Awful for feeling awful about being awful to an awful pony—no, he wasn’t entirely awful, but—Moondancer shook his head and sat down, letting Anonymous have the table. How was he supposed to handle this?

Should he?

He was well within his rights to leave Anonymous, storm off back to his dorm, and turn in for the night. He’d done nothing but be a creep and a jerk all night long. And Anonymous’ problems weren’t his. He had some kind of issue, issues, a twisted personality that made him stand out from the crowd—in a bad way—and kept him from joining it. No, he could join it, he’d just pay his way in.

Was that really joining it? Or buying a day pass?

Dim Sun’s cough didn’t answer Moondancer’s questions, but it did distract him from them, “Tea’s here, gentlecolts. Enjoy.” He waited for Anonymous to slough off the table, set the tray down, and flipped the ‘open’ sign in the door to ‘closed.’ He hushed Moondancer and headed for the back, “Take your time. Tea can’t be rushed!”

Were all ponies this understanding?

Moondancer avoided looking at Anonymous. He magicked sugar cubes into the cups—one for him, three for his… acquaintance—and filled them. He stared into his cup, only found tea, and drank it in annoyance.

“I—uh, I’m sorry. I-I’ll leave soon. I just need… a minute.” Anonymous’ voice dragged Moondancer’s eyes up to the pegasus. He looked bad, like he had been battling back from the verge since he approached—since he was pushed to it a while ago. He wasn’t crying. He wasn’t fooling anypony, but he wasn’t crying.

“Tea.” Moondancer winced. The word was barked out, harsh, flaking rust. He coughed, took a sip, and tried again, “Have tea.” Oh, much better, Moondancer.

Anonymous took his cup in both hooves and dragged it close, nursing it as regulars did down on the strip, “Sorry.”

Moondancer’s sweater found its way into his mouth. He chewed it, thinking over what to say. What he wanted to say and what he should say. He found the categories beginning to overlap and sighed, “I… I accept your apology, I guess.” His eyes narrowed in mental pain, the last words tacked on without thought. It hurt, but he had to try harder, “I mean, you didn’t seem sorry, but—”

He set his cup down on the table with a hushed curse, splashes coloring the surface with amber tea, “I. Accept. Your apology. And I’m… sorry, too.” He concentrated on wiping the table down with a sweater sleeve.

“Don’t be, dude. I’m a jerk.”

“I’m not sorry. I mean, I am, but—I’m not saying sorry because you’re—gah!” Moondancer adjusted his slipping glasses, ”I did to you what you did to me before. That’s what I’m sorry. For. That’s why I’m sorry, I mean.” He forced himself to meet Anonymous’ eyes. They would be pretty if he wasn’t crying. Ignore that.

“Meh… I deserved it.”

“You do-oon’t.” That got a laugh from Anonymous. “You don’t.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Moondancer.”

“No, I—Okay, you did, a little. But I’m still sorry, even if you did deserve it.”

The conversation lulled. Moondancer poured himself another cup, and Anonymous when he needed one. He still felt that he had things to say—too many to track in his head, to grasp and pull out and say, but things that he had to say all the same. He coughed, drawing Anonymous’ attention away from the door. His eyes were still moist, but he didn’t quiver at the edge of crying anymore, so Moondancer spoke with confidence, “I didn’t think you could cry.”

He always said the stupidest things when he was confident.

“Surprise!” Anonymous tried to light his face up, but it was clear the bulb had broken. The fake laughter only hurt.

“I’m sorry. I just didn’t. It’s stupid, but… I guess I didn’t expect someone as egotistical as you to be capable of anything beyond bravado and sycophancy. And seeing that you are… even if it was coming, and I’m justified, I still feel bad about it. So, I’m sorry.”

Anonymous turned back to his tea. Moondancer copied him. The conversation died again, with Anonymous eyeing the exit. Moondancer wanted to say more, but he worried about doing so. He’d been talking a lot, hadn’t he? Talking poorly, too. If he kept talking to Anonymous, would Moondancer be preventing him from leaving? Even if Moondancer wanted to say more—assuming he’d be able to figure out what that was and how to say it—he shouldn’t trap Anonymous in a conversation he didn’t want to have. Right?

“Pathetic, isn’t it? Me, I mean.” Anonymous slid the cup between his hooves, “No real friends, just… buying others’ company, because I… well, you know how I am. Nopony would hang around if there wasn’t good incentive.” He pressed the cup between his hooves and drew it up to his snout, taking a sip, “And the incentive isn’t even good enough, so I have to go out of my way to find somepony that I think is just as lonely as I am. Fuck me.”

“You wish,” Moondancer said with a nervous chuckle. Anonymous reciprocated with his own, close to a chirp. Cute. Ignore that. Moondancer massaged a temple with his hoof, “Uh… but, being serious. You don’t… I mean, you’re like me?” Friendless.

“More than you’d think. I don’t shut ponies out like you. Not totally, at least. But every time I think I’m getting anywhere, I just keep acting like a jerk, and… well, you know how that goes.”

“Why?”

“Why do I act like a jerk? I… it made me friends, at first.”

Moondancer quirked an eyebrow, “... How?”

“I, uh… I wasn’t real good at making friends as a colt. It was scary, made me anxious, no matter how long I watched other ponies or read about making friends or—well, to make a long story short, I tried making jokes one day, and it worked. I made friends, and it was great, for a while. The problem is that most of my jokes made fun of other ponies. It wasn’t bad at first, but the further I pushed the bigger the laughs were, and… well, it became a—a, uh…”

“... A habit?”

Anonymous slumped in his chair, “Yeah. By the time I realized what happened, I was alone. Stupid, isn’t it?”

Moondancer magicked more tea into his cup to drink, “I think I get it.” It made him uncomfortable how much he got it, although he was on the other side of the coin. He always preferred books to ponies, but he still wanted to have some close friends to talk with. He had one, but—but that was the last one.

“We’re a couple of fuckin’ losers.”

“You’re the loser. I’m going to HAPL.”

Anonymous sniggered, making Moondancer smile. Anonymous flipped his mane, “If nerd shit like yours can make you not a loser, then I can’t be a loser, either.”

“You, a nerd? You can’t call yourself cool anymore.”

“Nah, dude, it’s like this; you know my full name, right?”

“Anonymous Source? It’s a strange one.”

“My whole family tree is like that.”

“Your… how does your family keep any of that straight? You’re telling me your father and mother are named Anonymous Source, too?”

“No, but we all have that same general theme, and it’s regional—I’m the only ‘Anonymous Source’ pony here in Canterlot. Every time you read something credited to ‘an anonymous source’? That was one of us acting as a mouthpiece for Very Important Ponies. We publish books and art under the family name, too. Best kept secret in the trade.”

“But—what? That doesn’t make any sense. Why would anypony trust you—”

“Celestia cut our clan a deal a long, long time ago, and we’ve had protections by tribal leaders going way back. Of course, we’ve made our own works of art, found our own information, just to keep our clients safe. Tackitus? Half of his sources were us. The Voynicker Manuscript? Us. The Watergait informant? Us. Sometimes it’s a shy pony—those ones might come forward after the fact. Other times, it really is just us. And sometimes?” Anonymous leaned in close, cupping his hooves to conceal a conspiratorial whisper, “Sometimes it’s something inconvenient, embarrassing, dangerous. Everypony comes to us. That’s why they trust us—we move more dirt than a graveyard, and we could fill one with careers if we were betrayed.”

“You—you’re pulling my leg, right? There’s no way something this stupid exists.”

“What do you think this cutie mark means, Moonie?”

“Don’t call me that.” Moondancer leaned around the table, looking at Anonymous’ cutie mark again. Still a red, feathered question mark, still ending in a quill's nib, “You know, if you’re meant to be anony—if your identity isn’t meant to be known, having it as your cutie mark is stupid.”

“That’s exactly what they want you to think.”

Moondancer’s face drained of all amusement. Anonymous found it hilarious, clutching his sides in a fit. Moondancer went back to his tea, waiting for Anonymous to settle down. When he did, Moondancer pressed him, “So what is your cutie mark about?”

“I ran a school paper with the gimmick that every contributor had to go unnamed. It got shut down pretty quick—you’d be amazed at what some ponies will say when it isn’t their flank in the line of fire—but I kept it going in my free time. Turns out, I really like the sort of shit you get to read when ponies are free to speak their mind. Can’t really make a career off of free, anonymous letters, though, so it’s a hobby. That’s why I’m here.”

“And how much of this is written by you?”

Anonymous smiled, silent. Moondancer shook his head, “Figures as much. Tackitus, seriously...” He wanted to say more, but bit his tongue.

“I know what you’re thinking right now. Cowardly, right?” Anonymous held up a hoof, quieting him, “Yeah, I guess. But it’s important, too. I was being serious about Watergait, you know—and I think ponies like me have to exist to keep things honest. Either way, I’m here, I’m proud, and I’m not gonna change.”

“You’re not going to change?” Moondancer quirked a brow.

Anonymous paused, biting his lip, “I—I can try to be nnn… less of a jerk.”

“Well… I don’t know if I’ll be able to, but I’ll try to be less... severe?“

Anonymous stifled a snort, “That’s one way of putting it. But, hey, if you’re willing, I am, too. Shake on it?”

Moondancer let himself smile, holding out a hoof, “I have no idea why I’m giving you another chance.”

“Third time’s the charm, right?” Anonymous shook Moondancer’s hoof with a wink, “And I know all about charm.”

Moondancer rolled his eyes, “I regret this already.”

“You love it.”

“You wish.”

“Moondancer? I think this is the start of a—”

“I’m going to chuck you outside if you say it.”

Anonymous stared at Moondancer. Moondancer stared back. He magicked the door open, the chimes ringing like a musical locket. A droplet of sweat beaded on Anonymous’ brow, before—

“—beautiful friendship.”

Anonymous laughed as he sailed through the open door, wings unfurling with a roll to dance in the night sky, “Catch you on the weekend, nerdball!”

Moondancer snorted in annoyance, but couldn’t help the smile on his face. He finished off the tea and walked up to the counter, “Dim Sun? Sorry for keeping you open so late. I appreciate your consideration.”

The stallion addressed finished wiping down the last dish, giving Moondancer the last smile of the night, “Anything for a regular! Now, go on and get outta here. Some of us want to sleep tonight!”

Moondancer nodded, dropping spare bits on the counter and cantering off before they could be refused. His hoofsteps were light as he trotted back to his dorm, a thought running through his head. He’d made a friend! His grade was saved! They had their differences, but Moondancer wouldn’t lie to himself that there were no common interests between them.

When he stopped focusing on the negatives of the night, the positives stood out. Getting to share a lecture, chatting over dinner, learning about each other—even if it wasn’t a light subject, Anonymous still found a way to lighten the mood. And getting close to another pony felt… good. It felt really good to get close to Anonymous.

In an emotional way.

Yes, emotional. He liked sharing things about himself, even if the pony he was sharing them to was being flippant; he still said it was guaranteed he’d make it in HAPL. Moondancer knew he would, but hearing somepony besides his professors saying they believed in him put him in high spirits.

The trip back flew past Moondancer, already finding himself unlocking the door, magicking off his sweater into the clothes hamper with the rest of its carbon copies, and snuggling himself deep beneath the covers, content. He’d made a friend!

His eyes shot open.

Oh no. He’d made a friend.

He had no idea how to be a friend.