Twilight Sparkle placed her final diagram on the easel and turned back to Fluttershy. “So, in conclusion, there’s no reason to think that the fog won’t be over the mountains in your proposed time frame, so long as the north winds reach gale force speeds before sunrise tomorrow.”

Fluttershy nodded as she stood up from her chair. “Okay, then that’s what we’ll aim for.” She looked over at Twilight’s desk, where Pencil Pusher was plowing through a mountain of forms. “Do you have the paperwork to handle that with you?” she asked the bureaucrat.

“Not really, but I can just modify a general request form,” the stallion responded without looking up from his work.

Fluttershy let out a sigh of relief. “Well, it’s nice to hear some enthusiasm for the plan again,” she said. “Mayor Mare wasn’t nearly as supportive.”

Twilight seemed surprised by this. “Really? What did she say?”

“Well, she basically said the stress had gotten to me, and that I should head to the spa so I could relax and come up with a more sensible idea.” Fluttershy paused so Twilight could respond with an appropriate statement of shock and, perhaps, mild-to-moderate indignation.

Twilight, however, had a rather unexpected response. “Actually, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” she said as she cocked her head thoughtfully to one side and glanced towards the ceiling.

Fluttershy wasn’t sure what to make of this; moments ago, Twilight had sounded so optimistic about the plan, but now she was dismissing it as stress-induced folly? What could have changed her mind so quickly?

Luckily, Twilight glanced back downwards and read the expression on Fluttershy’s face before this particular train of thought could leave the station. “Oh, I don’t mean to say that you’re too stressed to make a good decision,” she hastily clarified for her friend. “I’m saying that taking some time to relax can help you stay focused when you return to the task at hoof. Trust me, I’ve had to learn that one from experience. Multiple times.”

“Oh, well, I suppose I can’t really argue with you there,” Fluttershy said as she broke off eye contact with Twilight and nervously rubbed her left hoof against her right foreleg. She didn’t particularly feel like dwelling on any similarities between her tax confusion and Twilight’s adventures with the “Want It, Need It” spell.

For her part, Twilight didn’t seem to take note of the awkward tone of Fluttershy’s voice. “All I’m saying is that you have a few hours to recuperate a bit, so why not treat yourself at the spa? If any major changes happen, we’ll be sure to let you know.”

Fluttershy looked over at Pencil Pusher, who had nearly reached the end of the stack of paperwork piled on the table. “What do you think?” she asked him.

The bureaucrat looked surprised to have his opinion requested. “Uh, sounds good to me,” he said. “I’d recommend against charging the services to the Department of Weather, though.”

Fluttershy smiled in response, and as a result Pencil Pusher’s explanation for party supply expenses reached the edge of the paper and continued onto the surface of the table. “I suppose it would look rather suspicious if I tried something like that,” the fog specialist said as her liaison frantically searched for some blotter paper.

“Well, that, and my writing hoof is getting cramped,” Pencil Pusher absently responded as Twilight used her magic to erase the ink stains. “In any case, I’d appreciate it if you signed these forms before you head over there,” he added. “The sooner we get everything cleared by Cloudsdale, the better.”

“Anyway, that’s basically the situation at the moment. There’ll be more information at the meetin’, of course, but I figure I’d best be gettin’ volunteers right now. So, are y’all in?” Applejack had done a very thorough job of explaining the need for a safety patrol to her audience, and to the farm pony’s credit, roughly half of them expressed an interest in helping out.

“Yes!” Lyra cried as she sprang to her hooves, nearly knocking over Bon-Bon’s coffee table. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! We’ll be happy to help out, and we can make sure the humans have a warm welcome, too!”

“What do you mean, ‘we?’” Bon Bon said as she looked around her otherwise empty home. “I don’t see anypony else here, and I won’t be ‘welcoming’ any humans if I have any say in the matter.”

“Really?” Applejack asked mischievously. “I’d’ve thought you woulda jumped at the chance to get the first shot in when they showed up.”

“Well, you thought wrong, especially since they already got in the first shot when they chucked an apple into my house!” Bon-Bon shouted, pointing to the apple-shaped hole in her living room window.

“Bon-Bon!” Lyra countered, rather offended. “Pinkie Pie already exonerated the humans.”

“That’s only because she doesn’t think they exist in the first place,” Bon-Bon countered. “She joined SPHERE because she opposes human exploitation as an abstract concept, remember?”

“Whoa, back up there a minute,” Applejack said. “Somepony threw an apple at your window?”

“Someone,” Bon-Bon corrected. “And don’t worry, I don’t hold you liable. It’s not your fault humans are stealing your crops.”

“What the hay makes ya think it was stolen?”

“Well, I’m assuming you’d remember if a hairless sasquatch walked up to your cart and paid you for it,” the candymaker said, rolling her eyes.

Applejack let out a frustrated groan. She’d have an easier time lassoing a hyperactive flea than convincing Bon-Bon to reconsider any of her ideas about humans—granted, Lyra was just as bad, but the unicorn wasn’t giving her any trouble at the moment. Logic having failed, a different tactic was required here: an appeal to civic pride. “You sure about this, Bon-Bon? This is a chance to really help out the community.”

“Of course I’m sure,” Bon-Bon said, stamping her hoof against the floor to emphasize her point. “If Fluttershy’s really going to let that fog roll through this town, I’m going to do the smart thing and hunker down inside of a hermetically-sealed, blast-hardened, stainless steel shelter. I mean, seriously, what’s the point of preparing for a disaster if you aren’t going to use your bunker when disaster strikes?”

Before anypony could respond, a loud slam came from Bon-Bon’s front door as Pinkie Pie galloped into the room. “Did you just say that you weren’t going to use your hermetically-sealed, blast-hardened, stainless steel bunker?” the pink pony asked, her words surging out of her mouth like whitewater rapids.

Lyra looked astonished. “Pinkie, did you hear all that from outside?”

“I didn’t even know that anypony was talking,” Pinkie Pie replied with a rapid shake of her bushy mane. “Why would I have asked if I already knew? Anyway,” she said, turning her attention back to Bon-Bon, “if you aren’t going to use it, can I throw a party there? It’s for the foals of Ponyville.”

The candymaker, however, didn’t seem able to fully process Pinkie’s questions. “What? I, well, I don’t know about that, Pinkie, you see—”

Pinkie smacked her forehead. “Oh, of course! We need to see if there’s enough room first.”

“Well, uh, I suppose that’s true, but—”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Pinkie Pie replied as she bounced around the room excitedly. “Let’s have a look at that bunker!”

Without a doubt, Thunderlane was the most unenthusiastic client Rarity had ever attended to, but then again, most of the clients at the Carousel Boutique actually wanted to use her services. Thunderlane, on the other hoof, had simply been ordered here by Rainbow Dash, who hadn’t even bothered to explain why she wanted him there before zooming off to collect fog data. When he learned that he was to receive a shiny suit of his very own, any pride he might have felt at being trusted with such an important job was more or less canceled out by the awkwardness that came from having to stand still while the suit itself was sewn around his body.

Still, Rarity did what she could to keep his mind occupied, mostly by asking him about recent events. “So, how is Flitter doing?” she asked as she began closing up seams around Thunderlane’s back legs.

“Pretty good, actually,” the stallion replied. “I mean, when you compare it to how bad it could have been. Last I heard, all the paperwork for her remaining surgery went through this morning, and she should be in the operating room right now. I think Cloudchaser said that her skin grafts were going to be a little later, once she’s gotten some rehab behind her.”

“I see,” Rarity replied. “And do they expect her recovery to take a while?”

“Well, Cloudchaser told us she’s not supposed to be walking on ground for several weeks. It might cause more damage to the hoof from the impact, or something like that. Luckily, she lives in a cloud house, so she won’t have to spend all her time hovering.”

Before Rarity could formulate a response to this, her thought process was abruptly cut short when the doors of the Carousel Boutique burst open and her little sister ran into the showroom. “Rarity! I need to ask you something,” Sweetie Belle said earnestly as she skidded to a halt near her sister, who had accidentally poked Thunderlane’s hip with her needle in surprise, causing him to yelp in pain.

“Sweetie Belle, you can’t simply barge in here like that,” Rarity said crossly as she peered over the rims of her glasses. “I’m doing some very delicate work right now.”

“Extremely delicate,” Thunderlane confirmed as he tried to get his mind off the sharp pain in his backside.

“Sorry, Rarity,” Sweetie Belle replied, flashing her most innocent expression.

“That’s all right,” Rarity said as she resumed her stitching. “Just try to remember to knock in the future. Now, I believe you had something to say?”

“Oh, right,” Sweetie Belle said. “Do you know where I can find Tom?”

“Ouch!” shouted Thunderlane as Rarity’s needle poked him near the base of his tail.

“Tom?” Rarity said through a blatantly false smile. “I don’t believe I know of anypony by that name.”

“Well, duh,” Sweetie Belle said. “That’s because Tom isn’t a pony. He—”

“I don’t know any zebra, donkey, dragon, minotaur, goat, sheep, cow, rabbit, or draconequus by that name, either,” Rarity interrupted as the fake smile morphed into a very real snarl.

However, Sweetie Belle must not have noticed the expression on her sister’s face. “Yeah, but Tom isn’t any of those things, either. He’s that r—”

This time, Rarity put down her needle and thread and walked over to her sister, pressing her face directly against that of the filly so that her glare filled the entirety of Sweetie Belle’s vision. “My darling sister,” Rarity growled through gritted teeth in a tone that suggested anything but endearment, “I am an extremely busy mare, and I simply do not have time to divert my attention away from the fog recovery effort to dwell on the names of nonexistent beings whom I have never met and who never, ever should be discussed with me, especially in front of other ponies. Do I make myself clear?”

“Um, I guess,” Sweetie Belle said, rather intimidated by her sister’s aggressive posturing. “But can’t you at least give me a hint?”

“No! Now please leave.”

“Awww, but Rarity...”

“Out, out, out!” Rarity shouted as she forcibly slid her sister outside and onto the porch of the Carousel Boutique and slammed the double doors behind her.

Once Sweetie Belle’s grumbles could no longer be heard through the boutique’s walls, Rarity let out an exasperated sigh and ran a hoof through her mane, which had become ever-so-slightly unkempt during her quarrel with her sister. She then picked up her needle and thread with her magic and returned to the sensitive task of enclosing Thunderlane’s haunches in silver fabric.

For his part, Thunderlane was still curious about the incident. “So, uh, who is this ‘Tom’ person anyway?”

The pinprick that followed was somewhat less accidental than the previous two.