Those who had to appear before the court would typically have a number of questions, and fairly high on the list was 'How should I appear before the court?' Was there a way of styling fur which might create a near-subliminal suggestion of innocence? Perhaps there was a particular color of mane ribbon which indicated membership in some exclusive portion of Canterlot society, and the exact portion didn't matter as long as it was the part which never, ever had to pay fines. In short, was there anything which a pony could do with their looks to make a favorable impression upon the judge? Because there were plaintiffs and defendants who were willing to do a lot in order to establish that impression upon Impassi Heartstopper. For those who were returning to the court and now fully recognized her status as the capital's leading JILF, this tended to include tail styling gels. A persistent, fully-unbacked rumor claimed the judge was into slicked tails.

Attorneys, if asked for advice on the matter, tended to sigh: those who charged by the hour might draw the sound out. This was followed by telling their clients that it was generally best to be presentable. 'Clean' was a rather solid recommendation, but it wasn't an absolute. District One covered both Canterlot and Ponyville, which meant that those heading for the latter's train station risked encountering a certain trio of fillies. They would have a cheap plank display roughly nailed together, would appear to be fully sincere about their belief in the displayed product, and they were absolutely not going to get marks for the creation of cosmetic products. Accordingly, the court recognized that those who started the journey in a personally pristine state were likely to trot through multiple layers of Life, and offered some private time to get rid of the results. Besides, the fur-curling cream worked. And because it was based in readily-available tree sap, it kept on working for up to six moons or until the pony had that portion of their coat shaved away: whichever came first.

Getting dressed up for court? You could, and there were certain days on the weather schedule which made layering into an act of common sense. But for the most part, Equestrian society was clothing-optional. Those who put on their finest garments before approaching the bench were usually trying to suggest one of three things. The first group believed the lavish wealth draped over their bodies clearly indicated they were far too important to be found guilty. Another segment were hoping for the judge to only be capable of reading surface impressions and therefore, it was clearly best to add a protective extra layer of surface. And the third category usually consisted of those who worked in the capital's fashion district. They had access to styles which hadn't been released to the public yet, proudly paraded them before the gallery, and occasionally tried to direct what they swore was a sly look of purest silent communication towards Impassi: the implied message was usually along the lines of Any Judge Who Finds For Me Gets This At Wholesale.

None of it ever worked. Impassi was a marked judge. When it came to things which might be able to influence her, Capacity For Both Defining And Properly Spelling 'Anorak' wasn't on the list. She nudged down her rulings based on Evidence and Testimony. So if an attorney was consulted on the matter, they would typically say that a pony could try to wear something fancy -- but it wouldn't mean much.

Of course, not everypony listened to their attorney.
Or had an attorney.
And there were those who had less common reasons for dressing up...

---

The vast majority of ponies treated clothing as a part-time thing at best, and it typically wasn't necessary in order to practice your profession: Impassi, for whom work drapery was effectively mandatory, happened to be one of the few exceptions.

There were multiple requirements for becoming a judge in the Equestrian court system. The possession of an appropriate mark was not an absolute necessity. Learning how to move in the robes without tripping during every other step was and when one happened to be a member of a quadrupedal species, tripping could be surprisingly easy. There were that many more legs to get tangled up.

She'd needed time to become used to the robes, because that was no part of her mark's talent suite. And the average Equestrian, when fully dressed, tended to be somewhat awkward in their movements. Bound joints hesitantly considered testing themselves against the inevitable bunching of fabric, then paused and asked what they were supposed to do next.

There was a unicorn primly striding down the courtroom's entrance aisle, and it took Impassi a moment to mentally separate the white-furred mare from her accoutrements.

She wasn't a model. A model would have trotted directly forward, eyes fixed on an invisible focal point. Models didn't check for audience reactions, because projecting an aura of perfection didn't work if you had to see whether everypony else was agreeing with you. And her build, simultaneously half-concealed and enhanced by the shifting cloth -- it was merely a pleasant one. Somewhat below average height, with not very much in the way of suggested muscle tone. The defendant simply moved in such a way as to suggest that the pony body was naturally meant to have its outermost layers as skin, fur, linen and everypony else had simply been getting it wrong. And she did look to the sides, openly peering up into the gallery's stadium seating. Gauging reactions.

Some ponies scouted the courtroom before their scheduled appearance: getting a feel for the place, trying to decide if they wanted to settle before reaching the actual trial, or simply counting off the sheer number of spectator benches in the gallery before settling all the faster. Impassi immediately suspected this mare had slipped in during the court's off-hours, because the paneling was rosewood and you didn't enter wearing that elegant mix of charcoal, soft greys, and deep ink-blues by coincidence.

She was taking her time about reaching the front. The mare looked at the attendees along the way, evaluated their gazes. And when she felt that Interest had been spotted, a thin slice of soft blue corona would dip into refined saddlebags, extract a small rectangle of cardboard, and float it towards the intended recipient --

"-- Miss Belle."

The unicorn paused. Politely glanced up at the bench, and false eyelashes blinked out a signal of equally-false confusion.

"This is a legal matter," Impassi neutrally stated.

"I am aware," the mare politely responded. "I have arrived slightly early, have I not? I was rather careful about that. One hardly wishes to hold up the proceedings of the court --"

"-- a legal matter," Impassi smoothly repeated. "Not a sales opportunity."

The sniff wasn't quite as genteel. "There are ponies within the gallery who appreciate the finer things in life," the mare said. "Therefore, I would be remiss if I failed to indicate where such things might be found. And adjusted to their own tastes, builds, and preferred setting." With a small smile, "I would also ask that recipients note the little spot of color at the lower left corner of their calling card. This not only shows me that you gained it within the courtroom, but it entitles you to a five percent discount upon display." A little more quickly, "And only upon display. There's certainly no need to say where you received it --"

"-- Miss. Belle."

The mare paused again. There was no portion of her attention which had yet been directed towards the sleek, athletic ochre pegasus stallion who was wearily regarding her from the plaintiff's bench, and that was a pity. It wasn't just the fact that he was a rather attractive specimen. Looking at his face under normal circumstances would have discovered some fairly fine features. To regard him at that exact moment would have allowed the observer to pick up on a rather unique expression. It was the face of somepony who'd just come across a full bale-weight of what had once been their favorite candy in all the world, only to find that the mere sight had brought back every last tenth-bit of the toothache.

"On the way out, then," Rarity primly decided, and crossed the final portion of distance. Several layers of color precisely settled themselves at the defendant's station. "Shall we proceed? I'm certain that this can be cleared up in very little time. I do have a business to reopen -- normal operating hours are on the card, my dears! -- and once he --" which triggered the first acknowledgement of the stallion: a small smile and precise head tilt in his direction "-- recognizes that I was simply endeavoring to assist --"

A dense left forehoof rapped against the judge's desk.

"-- of course," the designer frictionlessly changed verbal lanes, "it is your courtroom, and I am hardly attempting to initiate the proceedings without you! It all moves forward at your discretion, and yours alone. Begin when ready."

She paused. Impassi silently counted to three, and then the white head tilted back the other way.

"Do you feel ready yet?"

---

In the most technical sense, there was no real difficulty in getting Rarity to testify. She was perpetually prepared to present her side of the matter, at all times. Generosity nosed over any number of gifts at no personal cost, and everypony in attendance was free to take possession of the mare's exact viewpoint.

There were no issues with making her talk.

"So we made it back to my place," the stallion wearily said. He had named himself as 'Bink', and Impassi had allowed him to use the shortened version.

"I've seen far worse, as residences for single stallions go," intruded the ongoing commentary. "Certainly from the outside, at any rate."

"She insisted that we use my place."

"My apartment," the foreground track half-sniffed, "consists of the level above my shop. A place which rather seldom sees entry by stallions during business hours, and would certainly draw notice if a male were to come in when the Boutique is closed. Something which I am certain would create immediate gossip. Yes, I am aware that his wings would offer another means of entry, but my shop is in a central location within Ponyville -- easy to find, my dears! -- should I put a map on one side of the card? -- and so traffic is rather easy to spot. Not to mention that my bedroom window has a decidedly public facing."

Impassi had put aside the normal rules for when Rarity was allowed to talk within the first two minutes.

The judge could have enforced the typical order of testimony. But the designer worked with all sorts of cloth. In this instance, she had chosen a near-continuous weave of syllables. And when it was Rarity...

Ask the average Canterlot resident who the Bearers were, and... quite a few would be able to name Twilight Sparkle. Some would stammer their way to Rainbow, whose eternal drive to place her existence into the historical (and court) record, when rated for actual efficiency, typically flew along at about 5% of the average publicist. And unless they'd had the often-dubious benefit of a personal encounter, just about everypony would have to stop there.

Impassi knew about all of them. Most had passed through the courtroom, as plaintiffs and defendants and expert witnesses. The rest had come up in testimony and casual, accidentally-overheard remarks alike, because any group of mares would inevitably start to talk about the ones who weren't there.

She didn't count any of them as friends, especially given how she'd met them. Forming that sort of personal relationship with those who entered Sex Court was something a judge shouldn't do. And because the courtroom tended to focus on a limited number of topics, she hardly felt herself to know everything about them. But she listened. She took notes. There were files which had to be consulted, especially when Rainbow was due in again and previous cases had to be reviewed.

They all talked. They would freely talk about each other. And the majority of those very different mares shared a single opinion.

"He insisted on entering first. And taking a moment to himself before letting me in.' She giggled. "Obviously you were hiding something, dear! I would not have been offended by pornography in a single stallion's apartment! As long as it was tasteful. But once I was granted entrance..."

"She took this -- thing out of her saddlebags," Bink tried. "It looked like --"

"-- I brought it with me!" Rarity brightly declared. "I thought it would be needed! If I may display it before the court?"

Impassi nodded. Soft blue ignited around the white horn, and light delved within the right saddlebag for a few seconds. The results were levitated up to the judge's desk.

"So how is this to be labeled?" the designer asked. "People's Exhibit One? Quite frankly, that feels rather generic for such a stunning innovation. Even if said innovation is simply coming back into style after a thousand-year gap." Rather sternly, "Oh, and the People cannot keep that. I only have the one, and I'm going to need it back."

Impassi carefully examined the facets of the crystal cone. Noted the interior hollow, the cloth straps meant to fasten under the jaw...

"It does block some degree of casting," Rarity helpfully explained. "Not on the same level as a law enforcement restraint, of course! And to make this from metal would rather defeat the purpose. It is only through allowing a corona's light to shine through --"

The stallion was wincing. The quality of his features made the display of pain into something which was almost attractive, while in no way understating exactly how much he currently longed for the sweet release of death.

"This is the first one I've seen," Impassi neutrally admitted. "Describe its function, Miss Belle."

"Well," Rarity cheerfully said, "it's really about the way light goes through the crystal! Which explains their period of absence, of course. These only came back into Equestria after the Empire opened up, and as one of those who assisted in --"

"-- the function," Impassi carefully emphasized.

"...yes. Well, it changes the nature of corona light. Twilight told me -- and I know she has been in your presence before! -- that it shifts the frequency. Changes it into something which exists partially outside the range of pony sight. Even beyond pegasi and their ability to perceive heat." She tastefully giggled. "Not that my chosen of that night had any difficult in that regard --"

"Miss. Belle."

The unicorn paused.

"The altered light," she said, "will make a certain type of stain glow."

"The court," Impassi calmly established, "requires the testimony to be more specific."

"Well," Rarity brightly declared through the first of the eyelid twitches, "this is Sex Court, is it not? What sort of stain does one believe would apply?"

The stallion's wince had turned into a full-body cringe. Feathers were trying to press their way through the bench.

Rarity turned, regarded him with open sympathy.

"It did prove you to be an exceptionally healthy stallion," she tried to reassure him. "Just one who happens to have, shall we say, rather poor aim. And perhaps could take somewhat more care when it came to disposal of the tissues, especially when your waste basket was essentially its very own lightshow." This time, both eyelids twitched. "And it's not as if I decided to call the whole thing off right there, now did I? That would have been unfair! There was simply a degree of -- preparation required."

Bink was silent. Featherwise, several marginal coverts had almost reached the floor.

"Carpet cleaning can be erotic," Rarity told the gallery. "Especially when done in close proximity. Additionally, what is more romantic than making a bed together? Even though..." Three twitches for each eyes. "...well, I suppose you think this brings us to the matter of your sheets..."

Bink quietly nodded. The soft blue light went back into the saddlebags, and People's Exhibit Two was delivered to Impassi's desk. It was a magnifying lens placed into the upper square of a folding, staple-shaped frame, about half the diameter of the average hoof. The bottom circular hollow had multiple fine white lines marking the edges.

"And this is...?" Impassi asked.

"Optical thread count measurement," Rarity pleasantly stated. "Our pleasure would be hosted by his bed, Your Honor. Upon his sheets. A proper lady must have standards. But as it was a rather poor hour to take him shopping, I understood that we would be limited to what was in his bedding closet." There was a brief frown. "Not that I saw the whole of it. He was -- rather insistent about being the only one who looked within. I suppose that was where the pornography went, as I had ample time to discover that it wasn't under the bed."

The cringe was now on the verge of collapsing into an emotional black hole.

"I did believe him, in that he was showing me all the sheets he had to offer," the unicorn allowed. "And yet when I realized it would get no better, I nearly considered performing the act on the carpet! Except that I'd just seen the carpet. It was clean enough after the second hour, but it was still shag -- oh! Shagging on shag! I just spotted that!" Another giggle. "Still, dear... wasn't taking that shower together perfectly arousing?"

"...you were scrubbing me. Like I was a foal..."

"Everypony has trouble reaching certain spots," Rarity kindly assured him. "Even unicorns cannot readily target what we cannot directly see. And frankly, I had seen where the stain glow was in your fur. And feathers." Rather politely, with the words timed between the twitches, "You do need to work on your aim. But was the act itself not pleasurable? Once we finally reached it, of course."

"...yes."

"And I am hardly the kind of mare who sneaks out on a stallion in the middle of the night!"

"...no..."

"Not when cuddling together after sex, warm and content within afterglow -- which almost substituted for the roughness of your sheets, but not quite -- is both an act and gift of affection!"

"I -- guess?"

"I snuck out in the morning. I had to get home and feed my cat. And yet I made sure to leave you something which you could remember me by!"

Which, in Impassi's expert opinion, was the exact moment when the woven syllables united into a rope and fashionably wrapped themselves around the unicorn's neck.

"Which was?" the judge inquired.

Bink slowly got up. Nimble teeth extracted an envelope from under his bench, and he flew it up to the judge.

Impassi took some time to look over the photographs.

"May I see?" the unicorn brightly inquired. "Oh, yes! Well, I did have some time between when I woke up and the moment when I had to leave. More than enough to conduct some of the basics -- wonderful! Now that I see it in full daylight, that does suit!" In confidential tones, "Because quite frankly, that bedding? Was destined to be a tablecloth. So a little work, and a tablecloth it became! Along with some placemats, although that was mainly the pillowcases. Really, the hardest part was getting everything stripped from the bed without waking him up. It did help for him to be curled so, of course. Rather as if he was wrapping his body around something which wasn't there..." Hopefully, "Is there another picture which shows how I repurposed the curtains? And if so, could I get a copy? I'd like to have a visual record, Your Honor. Because that was a moment of inspiration."

The Bearers, on the whole, consisted of six very different mares. And five of them fully believed that Rarity was the crazy one.

"Miss Belle," Impassi calmly began, "the plaintiff did not ask you to redecorate his apartment."

"Sufficiency clause!" declared the happy voice of a mare who'd spent a little too much time in the other kind of court.

"I'll need your justification," the judge observed.

"Well, I could break into his residence if I looked through the window and saw him having a heart attack, correct? To save him! The cause would be sufficient."

Judge Heartstopper carefully allowed herself a single nod.

"So if I happened to look through the window and observed the sort of decor which would be likely to induce a coronary --"

"-- where did my layabout robes go?" Bink whispered.

"Layabout robes?" The unicorn frowned. "Oh! So those weren't scrub rags? Well, in any case, they are where they belong. And possibly now in the form of some rather fine ash. Although --" with open contrition "-- I do apologize. I made sure to send over replacement sheets, and you really could have written me back to praise the colors! And the thread count. But I only gave you new, clean scrub rags. If you give me a day, I can certainly cover a robe or two. I'll need your measurements. And in certain circumstances, acquiring them can be rather erotic --"

"-- Miss Belle," Impassi cut in.

The unicorn looked up. Waited.

"It's his residence," the judge said. "Not yours. And my understanding is that he liked it the way it was. Which is why his request for the court is that you restore everything to its original state. Something I am inclined to grant."

The twitches moved into the curled tail.

"...put it all back," the designer slowly said.

"Some of the original pieces were destroyed," Impassi noted. "By you."

"But I gifted him with replacements," wasn't the best choice of protest. "He lost nothing --"

"-- and in such cases, you will match them as closely as possible."

Rather petulantly, "It looks better now."

"Perhaps," Impassi allowed. "But it wasn't his choice."

"And if I choose not to revert one of my creations?"

"Then it's destruction of personal property," the earth pony mare observed. "A charge to which you have already confessed. And that comes with jail time."

"How much jail time?"

The judge told her. Rarity visibly thought it over.

"In which prison?"

"Miss Belle --"

"-- oh, please. I am a Bearer. There are those who would mistakenly claim that we seem to have a collective, inexplicable tendency towards winding up in prisons. But in my experience? It's just about always Rainbow's fault. Which is why I need to know which prison, because I do have preferences in that regard. In fact, as no opportunity should be wasted, I have recently begun to write down my impressions of various facilities! Rating them, as it were." Thoughtfully, "You are a judge. Would you happen to know if anypony's done that before? Because there has been some consideration towards self-publishing. I already have a title! Don't Get Arrested In This Town --'

"Miss Belle."

Generosity gifted the courtroom with a sigh.

"...very well," the unicorn finally said. "Against my wishes and while committing an additional crime against good taste, but -- very well. If you are determined to find for him, then I shall put it all back, as best I can. But my schedule is rather crowded and, as a government employee of sorts, subject to unexpected interruptions. I cannot provide you with a precise date for when I can act, and can only hope that you understand."

That much, Impassi could give her.

"One moon," the judge said. "Perform the restoration within one moon. If a mission renders that impossible, then ask the palace to contact the court. The deadline will be extended accordingly. Otherwise, you will perform the restoration under his supervision, to his specifications."

"Very well," the mare lightly fumed, and probably thought she'd gotten away with the exceptionally soft "Although if there are any more 'rags', and he happens to look away..."

"Miss --"

The curled tail nearly lashed itself straight. "...very well."

"One moon," Impassi repeated. "And then you will both return to the courthouse by appointment, to visit my chambers. And Mr. Bink will tell me how you did."

---

"Well, how was I supposed to know that that wadded-up ancient layer-stained crusty nightmare hidden at the back of his bedding closet was his precious colthood blankie?"

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