There were certain rules of decorum for those who had to deal with the justice system and when it came to Sex Court, most of them were written down. The complete recorded list was available for review by anypony who wished to see the document, at any time they desired to consult it. And it was generally only read over by the attorneys because if most of those who had business before the court had possessed any desire to pause and consider the full ramifications of what they were about to go through, they wouldn't be in this mess.

Still, the list was there. Searching through the written material would quickly locate formal regulations for what was to be worn in the courtroom or rather, a formal lack of them. The majority of cases dealt with ponies and once the calendar was officially shifted into summer, you were lucky to get hats. The typical unicorn would eschew going that far, and formal collars were the last resort of those who had desperately jaw-snatched something from the haberdashery one block to the south.

Most of the rules were written down, and Judge Impassi Heartstopper recognized this as a problem. But every subculture tended to silently develop its own code of conduct and in Sex Court, even the unspoken guidelines tended to be recognized by the majority. Herd instincts had their (scarce) benefits, and a collective tendency to understand exactly when somepony was about to cross the line generally kicked in about two seconds after the tail finished lashing its way over the border.

If somepony had been part of the gallery for a while, they would know how it all worked. That there were times when they had to remain silent -- but the judge recognized that some incidents, when viewed from the perspective of somepony who hadn't actually gone through them, possessed an inherent level of comedy. The fact that she never laughed didn't mean they couldn't, especially as it was better to allow a brief outburst than watch as dozens of ponies came close to choking on their own forelegs -- but at the same time, a subtle nod was a suggestion to stop, and a slam of that dense hoof into the desk was an order.

(A second impact meant the courtroom was roughly thirty seconds away from being cleared. Nopony wanted to risk that. The worst offenders were quickly isolated, and season tickets could be revoked.)

Rules and guidelines. Things which dictated when you spoke, and why you had to stop. Orders to be followed, accompanied by general exercises of common sense -- and because it was Sex Court, that last category was where sapients tended to get into trouble. Again.

For example, if somepony happened to be appearing before the court as an about-to-lose defendant for the second time, it was probably best not to display a posture of smug boredom.

The earth pony mare's fur was the exact shade of a thick dust coating, which could make it slightly harder to tell when the actual dust dropped out -- if she was at rest. Small movements tended to produce minor clouds, and her bench was slowly acquiring an outline of her body. Her entrance into the courtroom had left something of a trail, and the custodial staff was once again debating the seemingly-eternal question of Broom Or Shovel? And yet, something about her rough contours suggested a base level of attractiveness. Uncovering the details was probably going to require an industrial power washer.

There was an old legend which claimed that the earth pony species had been born from soil. This particular mare either hadn't completed the process or made weekly visits to see how her parent was doing.

She was wearing saddlebags. There was a small amount of weight deforming the bottom of each, and deep breaths made the masses softly jingle.

The stallion at the plaintiff's station wasn't looking at her. He had no cause. He'd looked at her before, he'd allowed the alcohol to do a certain amount of wipe work, and now he was here. Looking again wasn't going to make things any better. But if he had... he would have seen the same thing which was being witnessed by a entire courtroom. That everything about her expression, posture, and half-lidded eyes created a silent shout of smug boredom. She'd been there before, she knew how it was going to end, and... she didn't care.

Impassi recognized that. She'd reviewed the original case that morning, and expected the defendant's testimony to be a late afternoon rehash of a previous evening's play. The judge understood that if everything was exactly the same, then the plaintiff was going to lose. In that sense, it would be an identical verdict.

Not quite.

"And after she had agreed to leave the bar at your side?" the judge inquired. "Which would have been at approximately nine p.m." And, with utter patience, waited for history to attempt a full repeat.

The stallion briefly, compulsively vibrated. No acquired dust fell away from his flank, but several overworked muscles visibly spasmed.

The court collectively gave him a minute to recover.

"She told me... that she had this little quirk," he finally said. "And I thought it was going to be something strange, maybe something I wouldn't want to try. Because she'd held off on telling me until we were outside, so it had to be bad, right?"

Several senior gallery members, who'd been there for the original performance, began to wince. Others had been doing it for some time.

"But she just said that she could only have sex at her own apartment," the plaintiff tiredly continued. "In her own bed. And I thought... well, that's not so bad. It's sort of like the jokes about ponies who say they can only use the toilet trench in their own bathroom, right? There's one spot which works for them. And they sort of have to find a way of going with it. Besides, it meant we wouldn't be using my place, and I wouldn't have to..."

His tail didn't exactly droop. The dock muscles had simply lost all interest in functioning.

"...straighten up," he made himself finish.

The entire gallery was wincing now. The mare simply yawned.

"So you followed her to the residence," Impassi neutrally prompted.

"Yes," the stallion sighed. "I thought... it was nice of her, to offer me the key. As if I was letting her in. Like I belonged there. And she just stood off to the side, waiting..."

More spasms. Most of the intercostal muscles were trying to get away from the ribs.

"The door opened outwards," he stated for the court record. "So when the contents of her living room tried to fall on me, I was able to jump backwards. That got me clear for most of it."

That's a change, Impassi internally noted. She must have swapped the hinges. The previous victim had needed a good five minutes to shove his way in.

"Most," was the verbal end of that.

"I had to get my forelegs out of the newspaper landslide," the plaintiff told her. "Why would anypony save a year of newspapers --"

"-- price comparisons on the ads," the defendant casually shrugged off. "The material's right there."

He didn't look at her. "Fast food containers?" was offered to the bench.

"Stores the rolled-up ones."

"And the crates?"

She thought that over.

"I have to trot above all of it," she eventually announced. "The crates are a place to stand. Like rocks in a stream."

Or, given the increasing layers of decay as you progressively work your way down, a swamp. Although the actual snapping turtle had presumably found a kinder environment in which to live.

Judge Heartstopper silently regarded the exhausted stallion. He forced his head to temporarily raise.

"I'm still not sure where she was hiding the plow," the plaintiff admitted.

"And how long would you say it took for you to reach the bed?" asked the judge.

"Hours," was all he could offer. "I got a glimpse of Sun at some point. Once the curtains could move again. And then I had to clear the bed, I even swapped the sheets after that one set was finally scrubbed, and..."

Impassi thought about con artists. Those who played the long game, taking moons to work themselves into a victim's life. Slowly building the level of trust required to set up an ultimate betrayal. And then she considered just how much time could be saved in those efforts by simply offering the target a chance to have sex with them.

"The last thing I remember is collapsing onto the mattress," the stallion concluded. "And I woke up in her building's hallway. She'd already left."

"I put you outside," the defendant yawned, "because we'd had sex. That's the only reason I'd picked you up. For sex." Viciously paused. "And you weren't good."

Without making eye contact, "I don't remember having sex."

"I get that," the mare offhoofedly declared. "If I can barely be bothered to remember any of it, imagine how bad it must have been for you --"

"-- I do remember getting screwed."

Impassi rapped her left forehoof against the desk. Both ponies went quiet. For the mare, this required a little more time. The yawn had a rather impressive trailoff.

"What would be your best estimate for when you fell asleep?" she asked.

"...ten in the morning?"

"Does the defendant wish to officially offer a response to those allegations?" the judge checked.

Another shrug. "Not if it means dragging this out." Which was followed by the first hints of a thin smile. "Besides, it's all he-said she-said, right? Just like before. So just like before -- get it over with."

Judge Heartstopper briefly looked at the mare. Turned her attention to the stallion.

"For the court's official record," she instructed, "please state what you were seeking for damages."

"Compensation," the fatigued stallion told the courtroom. "Just... compensation." With a sigh, "I put in the work. I'd like to get something out of it."

Impassi nodded.

"I find for the plaintiff," she placidly announced, and the stallion's eyes closed with what was either satisfaction or near-final surrender: the mare merely yawned again. "One moment..." Her teeth nipped at a quill. The right forehoof slid the blank paper into range, and she wrote quickly. "Ms. Clutter is hereby ordered to pay this amount. This is to be done in front of a court-appointed witness, with a notarized receipt. Base payment period is one week." Impassi glanced at the bailiff. "Please take this to the defendant."

The bailiff nodded, fetched the paper and began moving towards what was now a slow-shifting dust cloud. The defendant was getting up, and her saddlebags lightly jingled accordingly.

"Whatever," the mare shrugged. "Pay up. Just like the last time. I agree to the fine, is that what you want to hear? I'll even settle today. That's why I brought some bits. And just like the last time --"

The bailiff put the paper in front of her bored gaze. Then the pegasus decided that wasn't quite enough, and a few quick wing flaps cleared the view.

The mare looked.

Then she blinked.

Her eyes did their best to dart back to the beginning of the number, and didn't quite manage the feat. It took a visible amount of time to cross that much distance.

"This..." the mare ineffectively sputtered, as dust coalesced around spittle to form the world's filthiest raindrops. "This is... this is -- !"

"-- the current going rate for a professional, top-tier stallion escort in Canterlot, charged hourly, starting from when you 'picked him up' and ending when his task was complete," Impassi informed her.

Most of the gallery began to murmur. Some of the more experienced attendees gave that up in favor of a half-muted giggle. The stallion, who'd been packing up his papers in slow motion, didn't so much freeze as decide to give his body the day off right there.

"But that's... that's eight times the last fine! I -- I just work in trash collection, I don't make escort-hiring money, and it was just labor...!"

"During your previous appearance in this courtroom," the judge impassively stated, "I did in fact calculate damages at the base rate for physical labor. However, as you did say that you'd chosen your most recent conquest solely for sex, I felt an adjustment was necessary."

The mare's hind legs collapsed, and dust flew everywhere. Impassi completely failed to smile.

"I recognize that based on the visible weight within your saddlebags, this amount would be more than you're currently carrying," she continued. "And possibly more than you can assemble within a single week. Accordingly, please submit a official non-negotiable copy of your salary voucher to the court clerk and upon confirmation, a payment plan can be arranged. After all, the fine is no longer, to quote your parting remark during your original case, 'still cheaper than a visiting maid service'. Court is adjourned."

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