>>/7767/

> The other couple. She remembered now.
> They had met a pony stallion taking his lady friend out for a date.
> Human lady friend.

>  Her eyes fell to the table, noting the weave of the tablecloth's silken pattern.
>  Would it really have been that easy?
> "Now that I'm not a filly, I'm sorry I hurt you, those years ago."
> When she looked up, Anon was crying freely, though his expression was motionless.
> Cold, like the snake decorations of his dojo from the human lands.

> "Anon, you can write to me. Maybe … in enough years, I'll be available again."
> "But for now, I have a coltfriend, and he's"
> RIGHT OVER THERE, politely waiting and looking out of place for it.

> OhCrapOhCrapOhCrap
> Anon's going to follow my eyes,
> then kill the competition,
> so that I'll be available NOW

> He follows her gaze and sees Upper Crust, looking out of place.
> Roasting Hops can't breathe.
> Anon looks back at her, and uses a quick head-tip to point at Upper Crust.
> Roasted Hops nods, once.

> Anon sits up straight, wipes his tears away.
> She realizes she had been holding her breath.
> She has read his body language; there won't be bloodshed over this.
"Can I … hug you?"

> Anon is almost choking, his tears still flowing.
> Humans are so strange some times. With their emotional displays especially.
> Roasting scoots her chair back from the table, hooves only lightly on its surface

> Anon jumps up, and steps around the table to embrace her.
> His sweat is fresh. Showered, then hustled through a job.
> The smell is identifiable. Too familiar.
> A picture of nights spent in ditches, hovels, and broken-into cellars.
> She isn't sorry to have a home.
> But she's sorry to have hurt the stallion, human though he is.

"I just wanted to save you. You seemed so scared, that first night."
> He means when they met, she realizes.
> "That was the morning, Anon. I was too drunk in the night to know …"
> He steps back, broad, flexible hands still on her shoulders.
"What did you think we were going to do? In my motel room and us both drunk."
> She didn't remember. She shrugged.

> Then she did. Her father had written a letter excluding her from the will.
> The family alcohol was wine, and he wouldn't tolerate a beer drinker.
> Aloud, she told him "I needed somepony to hug me. -
>  "I guess I didn't care what else they touched."
> Like her sense of survival.

> He tried to smile, failed.
> Anon stood up, towering over her, then turned and walked out.
> Just like that. No odd gait, no looking back, no sniffling.
> But if the past century had taught her anything, it was she (and he, it seemed) was immortal.
> They could amend their fences later.
> If no one killed her.
> Or Anon.