Rarity opened one eye blearily, allowing herself to adjust to the light peeking through a crack in the curtains. The covers on her bed had been tossed to one side and the waste bin was overflowing with tissues which were wet with mascara and tears.

A small figure entered Rarity's field of vision. The blurry shape soon took the form of a unicorn filly, who was looking at Rarity concernedly. She slowly approached the bed.

"Rarity," she said softly, "are you okay?"

"No Sweetie Belle," Rarity deadpanned, "I'm not okay."

"Oh come on Rarity," Sweetie Belle replied, "you really need to start thinking positively."

"Positively?" Rarity slowly sat up and glared at her sister, "Look around you, Sweetie Belle! We've lost our home and my business and have been reduced to living in a room in a seedy hotel. A room which I am rapidly running out of bits to pay for because nopony will hire me, and it's all because of that stupid human and his Celestia-damned magazine!"

She slammed a hoof into the drawers next to the bed and snorted angrily. Sweetie Belle flinched at the display of anger and took a few nervous paces backwards. Rarity saw the look of fear on her sister's face and sighed.

"I'm sorry Sweetie," she said, "it's not your fault this has happened, so it is wrong of me to take my anger out on you like this. But at the end of the week I'll be forced to leave the hotel, and you'll be forced back to Manehatten to live with our parents."

Sweetie Belle sniffled as she trotted across the room, jumping onto the bed next to Rarity and hugging her.

"I don't want to leave Ponyville," she said, "I've got friends here. If I go to Manehatten I'll have to start all over again!"

Rarity ran a hoof along Sweetie's mane as the filly cried into her chest. She looked blankly at her reflection in a mirror on the other side of the room, barely recognising the mare who stared back.

"I didn't want to tell you in case you got mad," Sweetie mumbled, "but the other Crusaders and I did something the other day that might actually help you."

Rarity gently pushed Sweetie Belle away from her and wiped the filly's eyes with a forehoof.

"Whatever do you mean?" she asked.

Sweetie Belle leaned in and whispered. As she spoke the faintest glimmer of hope appeared in Rarity's eyes, while a grin began creeping onto her face.

"Aye, I ken it wis a guid article," Jock said to the caller on the phone, "I just hope that daft mare saw it. That'll teach her tae try an' blackmail me... aye, you tae lad, I'll see ya the morrow, a'richt?... Nae worries, bye the noo."

He replaced the receiver and let out a groan, rubbing the bridge of his nose with two fingers while looking at the floor.

"Jist what I need," he muttered, "tae spend anither day wi' that numpty as he prattles on aboot stuff I dinnae care aboot."

"Well well well," a feminine voice cut in, "you're being two-faced again. Though of course, that's hardly a surprise."

Jock looked up, making sure to put a grin on his face. He soon found himself locking eyes with a stern-looking unicorn mare who was wearing a saddlebag.

"Miss Rarity," Jock said flatly, "huv ye come back f'r roond three?"

Rarity snorted.

"On the contrary Mister Wallace," she said, "I'm actually here to give you this."

She opened her saddlebag and levitated an envelope from it, laying it down on Jock's desk. He took it in his hands and turned it over, his eyes taking in the golden seal holding it shut.

"What's this?" he asked, "It looks awfy important."

"Open it," Rarity replied, "and see for yourself."

Jock tore the envelope open and extracted a piece of paper. He cast his eyes over it before looking at Rarity and smirking.

"So ye're takin' me tae court are ye?" he said, "Fine by me, missy. I look forward tae humiliatin' ye even mair."

Rarity returned Jock's smirk with one of her own.

"We'll see Jock." she said as she turned to leave, "We'll see."

As Rarity left the room, she could hear Jock erupting into laughter. She scowled and left the building, her conversation with Sweetie Belle replaying in her mind and filling her with determination.

Rarity sat nervously in her seat and listened to the sound of the wind and rain outside.

How fitting, she thought, bad weather for what could very well turn out to be a bad day.

The scraping of wood against the floor brought Rarity from her thoughts. She turned to see Jock taking his place at the table opposite, the smug grin returning to his face.

"All rise for the honourable judge Swift Gavel." the bailiff said.

The courtroom went silent as the assembled ponies got to their hooves. Swift Gavel came out of a back room and took his place at the bench. He nodded curtly at those present, who then allowed themselves to sit down. The bailiff passed him a stack of papers which he took in his magic.

"Case number seven-eight-one-four-nine-three," he said, "Rarity versus Jock Wallace. Miss Rarity is suing Mister Wallace for defamation of character and libel. Do either of you have representation for this hearing?"

"Naw yer Honour," Jock said, "I'm jist gonnae represent masel'."

"As am I." Rarity added.

"Very well," Swift Gavel said, "you may now present your arguments. Miss Rarity, as the complainant, you may start."

Rarity stood up and walked to the front of the courtroom before turning to face the assembled ponies. She cleared her throat.

"This man," she pointed at Jock, "has ruined my business and my reputation with his venomous words. All I did was express disgust at his so-called sense of humour, and he twists my words into the abomination everypony read in his magazine."

She turned to face Swift Gavel, who peered at her over his glasses.

"Under Equestrian law, members of the media are required to display and present cards identifying themselves as such. Mister Wallace did not and at no point during our meeting did he say that he was a journalist, albeit for a fashion magazine. Therefore I argue that he had no legal right to publish that article, as I was unaware of who he really was."

Swift Gavel nodded.

"Mister Wallace," he said, "your counter-argument?"

Rarity took her seat as Jock stood up from his.

"In Scotland, only journalism is covered by the term 'media'. which is why I wasnae cerryin' an ID card. As for no' telling Rarity who I really wis, I dae a lot o' undercover work reviewin' designers and it is my belief that if they knew I wis a reporter, then they would go oot o' their way tae cater to mah every need. Which in turn would mean that my articles were biased. I wouldnae get the 'real deal', if ye catch my drift. And that, yer Honour, is why I 'hink this trial is a huge waste o' everypony's time."

He sat down with a contented look on his face and and folded his arms as Rarity stood up.

"While it is true that I was rude," she said, "I have to say that I only acted like that as a result of Mister Wallace's provocations."

"Objection," Jock said with a raised hand, "she has no evidence to back up this claim."

Swift Gavel looked at Rarity.

"Is this true, Miss Rarity?" he said, "Do you not have the evidence to back up your claim?"

"As a matter of fact," Rarity said smugly, "I do have evidence. With your permission, your Honour, I would like to call a witness."

"Objection overruled Mister Wallace," Swift Gavel replied, "and I will allow Miss Rarity to bring in her witness."

"Sweetie Belle," she said loudly, "would you be a dear and come to the witness box please?"

Sweetie Belle got up from her seat amongst the spectators and trotted nervously to the front of the courtroom, casting a glance at Jock, who regarded the filly with disdain as he took notice of the saddlebag she was wearing.

"Objection!" he yelled.

"On what grounds, Mister Wallace?" Swift Gavel asked.

"Sweetie Belle is Rarity's wee sister," Jock replied, "so of course she's gonna say onything tae back her up."

"Actually your Honour," Rarity said, "my sister is going to present the evidence I mentioned."

"I'm intrigued," Swift Gavel mused, "so I am going to allow this. Objection overruled. Now, Sweetie Belle, please take your place in the witness box."

Sweetie did as she was asked and got into the box with help from Rarity, who looked at her warmly.

"Okay Sweetie Belle," she said softly, "tell everypony exactly what you told me a few days ago at the hotel."

Sweetie Belle nodded and took a deep breath before launching into her story.

Anypony will tell you that my friends Apple Bloom, Scootaloo and I are part of a club called the Cutie Mark Crusaders. I remember that Mister Wallace came to the Boutique in the afternoon, because that morning the Crusaders had been trying to figure out other ways of getting our cutie marks.

We were sitting in our clubhouse, coming up with ideas and then tossing them aside because we'd either done it, or because we were all banned from the place we could try to do it.

Ever since the link between Equestria and Earth opened, more and more human technology has been arriving. Such as DVDs and DVD players. We had a small portable one, and were watching some old spy movie. That's when the idea came to me.

"Why don't we try to get our cutie marks in spying?" I asked.

Apple Bloom and Scootaloo looked at me.

"Spying?" Apple Bloom asked, "And how do you suppose we go about trying that?"

I looked around the room while I tried thinking of an answer. And that's when I saw it. Another piece of human technology which would be our tool for our latest attempt — a digital recorder.

"We could use that," I said as I pointed at it, "and plant it somewhere where nopony would find it. Just like that man did in that movie we watched. If he got some good stuff then maybe we can too! It makes so much sense!"

Apple Bloom and Scootaloo both nodded in approval. But then Scootaloo had to go and ask the million-bit question.

"Do you have any idea where to hide it?"

The smile faded from my face as I tried to come up with an answer. But then I got it.

"We could hide it in the Boutique." I said, "Rarity is always talking with her customers, so maybe we could get some gossip!"

"Oh come on," Scootaloo groaned, "I thought we'd learned our lesson with gossip after the Gabby Gums incident?"

"We won't actually do anything with what we record," I replied, "we'll just have a listen. It'll probably just be boring stuff about the weather and the price of hay bacon."

"Sounds good to me." Scootaloo said.

"And me." Apple Bloom added.

We grabbed the recorder and left, already talking about what a cutie mark in spying would look like.

"So after spending fifteen minutes looking for a hiding place," Sweetie Belle finished, "we hid the recorder in amongst some old design ideas Rarity had filed away and left. We came back to get it later that day and... well, hear for yourself."

She reached into her saddlebag and took out a small black object which she then passed to Swift Gavel, who placed it on the bench in front of him and pressed a button. The room filled with the sounds of three bickering fillies as they attempted to hide it. Sweetie Belle blushed while Swift Gavel pressed another button and held it down. A few seconds later he released it.

—where everything is chic, unique and magnifique! Are you purchasing for yourself, or somepony special?

"Ah," said Rarity, "this is when I first made Mister Wallace's acquaintance. Fast forward a few minutes and you'll hear what started this whole mess."

Normally when a lassie wants tae grab me there, ah hiv tae take her oot fur denner an' a movie first.

"I was merely taking Mister Wallace's measurements, and he makes a joke like that, if you could even call it a joke. Saying such things may be acceptable on Earth, but not here. Which is why I responded the way I did."

How dare you! I am not the sort of mare who jumps into bed with any stallion who treats her properly! I am simply taking your inside leg measurement for your suit, and I would thank you to keep your vile comments to yourself!

"While it is true that Mister Wallace is implying less-than-savoury things about you Miss Rarity," Swift Gavel said, "I don't see how this helps your case."

Calm doon, lass. Ah wis only haein' ye on.

"See?" Jock argued, "I even telt her I wis jokin'!"

"I'm sorry Miss Rarity," Swift Gavel said solemnly, "but this isn't looking good for you. Mister Wallace hasn't shown any signs of hostility towards you."

And whit aboot the 'ordinary tailors'? Whit, ye 'hink ye're better than them?

Of course not! In fact, I go to a lot of other designers when I need a helping hoof! It just so happens that my designs are... preferred... among Equestria's elite.

"Ah here we are," Rarity said, "twisting my words to make it seem like I was badmouthing my fellows in the fashion business. But it is true about my designs being more popular. I don't mean that in a bad way, and even other designers agree with me when I say it."

Oh, I do admire your work, but I have to say that nopony in Canterlot is wearing any of it now, are they? Why, they prefer my work over yours.

"Now this," Rarity hissed, "was not only uncalled for, but entirely unprofessional of him."

"Aye a'right," Jock said, "I'll admit that makin' fun o' her accent was a bit much."

I should have guessed that an uncouth barbarian like yourself wouldn't understand fashion if it bit him on the flank!

"Ah yes," Rarity coughed in embarrassment, "my outburst. But you have to agree that I had every right to be angry."

And your accent! Every word sounds like somepony is pouring acid into my ears!

"And yes," she added, "that was uncalled for as well."

You look like such a ruffian, I wouldn't be surprised if this suit was for your next court appearance!

"As was that..." she muttered.

Swift Gavel pressed a button on the recorder and the sound stopped. He put the device to one side and crossed his forehooves in front of him.

"I've heard enough," he said, "and I've already come to a decision on what is going to happen here."

He looked at Rarity.

"First of all, it has to be said that while what Mister Wallace implied was wrong, he did say it was a joke. In all honesty, Miss Rarity, it was you referring to him as an 'uncouth barbarian' which caused this whole thing to erupt."

Rarity's face fell while Jock managed to conceal the small grin creeping onto his face.

"However," Swift Gavel said as he looked at him, "this whole thing is still your fault, Mister Wallace."

"What?" Jock shouted, "How is ony o' this my fault?!"

"When you first came to Equestria and were filling in the application for your visitation pass, what did you say your occupation was?"

"I said I wis a writer," Jock replied, "but I dinnae see how th—"

"So on other words," Swift Gavel interrupted, "you neglected to mention the fact you worked in the media?"

"Naepony bothered tae ask me ony follow up questions," Jock argued, "so I dinnae see how I cin be held at fault for them no' daein' their jobs properly."

"Of course not," Swift Gavel replied, "but you can be held at fault for filling in the form wrong. When you signed it, you were declaring that the information you provided was true and accurate. A 'writer', Mister Wallace, is somepony who creates stories – such as the Daring Do series. You are a journalist, plain and simple."

"You... but I..." Jock stuttered.

"Jock Wallace," Swift Gavel raised his namesake, "because you lied about your occupation you had no right to publish that article about the Carousel Boutique, as you were not in possession of a media ID card. It is for that reason that I rule in favour of Miss Rarity."

Jock's face fell as Rarity struggled to contain her excitement.

"I hereby decree the following: one, you are to print a retraction of the article in your next issue. Two, you are to pay Miss Rarity one hundred thousand bits in compensation for defamation of character and loss of earnings. And three, you are to surrender your visitation and apply for a new one."

He banged his gavel on the bench.

"Court dismissed." he said.

"All rise." the bailiff instructed.

Everyone stood up as Swift Gavel returned to the back room. Once he was out of sight, Jock fell back into his seat and buried his face in his hands while muttering to himself.

Sweetie Belle launched herself at her sister and the two of them hugged. Placing the filly onto her back, Rarity trotted out of the courtroom with her head held high.

"Thank you for your custom darling. I shall have that finished for you in, say, a week? I'm a bit busy just now, as you can imagine."

"Not at all Rarity. Take your time, and... er, I'm sorry for turning my back on you like that. It was wrong of me to believe what that human had written, when he wasn't even a licensed journalist."

Rarity waved a hoof dismissively.

"Do not fear, dear Haywick." she said, "I forgive you. Now run along my dear stallion, you don't want to keep your patients waiting."

Haywick nodded and left. After he had gone, Rarity turned the 'open' sign around to 'closed' and locked the door before sighing.

The knock which followed made her groan.

"I'm sorry," she shouted, "but I am closed for tonight. Please come back tomorrow!"

"I cannae dae that," a familiar voice replied, "because I'm only here on a temporary pass, an' it runs oot the night."

Rarity unlocked the door and opened it slightly. On the other side, Jock stood with a nervous smile on his face and a bouquet of roses in one hand.

"Hello Mister Wallace," she said politely, "and what can I do you for you this fine evening?"

Jock held out the roses.

"Ye cin accept my apologies f'r a'hing that's happened." he replied, "I didnae purposely set out tae ruin ye, but I guess it all just got oot of haund. Can ye ever forgive me?"

Rarity took the roses in her magical aura and sniffed them. A small blush came to her cheeks as she smiled.

"Of course I can," she said, "because I actually have to thank you."

"Me?" Jock replied in shock, "Why dae ye want tae thank me f'r almost ruinin' yer life?"

"Ever since you published that retraction, all of my clients have come back to me. Some have even ordered several items as a way of apologising to me for taking your words to heart. It has sufficiently boosted my income, and the orders I have received will keep me busy for months to come."

"So in a way," Jock mused, "my article wis the best thing that ever happened tae ye?"

Rarity nodded.

"Yes," she giggled, "it is rather ironic, isn't it?"

Jock rubbed the back of his head and laughed hesitantly.

"Aye, it is." he muttered, "But, er, I'm jist glad that ye've accepted my apology. And... if it's no' too much bother... I'd like tae publish a proper article aboot ye."

"But I know who you are," Rarity replied, "so won't that make the article biased?"

"Aye," Jock said, "but... I wouldnae hae it ony other way."

Rarity smiled again and opened the door wider.

"Well in that case," she said, "you had better come in, because we have much to discuss."

Jock returned her smile and entered the Boutique, closing the door behind him with a soft click.