>It's after-hours when finally you roll into Panne's bakery
>Long day at work, and terrible congestion on the road home
>You're also covered with pieces of tropical fruit
>Turns out that this evening was the annual fruit-throwing festival
>You vaguely remember Panne telling you about it, but she neglected to mention that central Hollow Shades would turn into what was basically a war zone
>Memories of bat ponies screaming as they hurled mango bombs and bananarangs will be forever burned into your mind
>You head into the bakery through the back door; Panne's nowhere to be found
>Must be in the other room
>"That you, Anon?" she calls, confirming her location
"Yeah," you say. "I need a shower."
>"Oh? Why don't you come in here first. I have a surprise for you."
>Her coy inflection makes you suspicious, but you resign yourself to her whims.
"Hope you like fruit," you say
>You step into the next room, half-expecting to get a face-full of cantaloupe or something
>Instead you get a face full of Panne's ass 
>At least, most of it; the edges of her shapely rump peek out from behind a menu that casually shields da goods from view
>Lying on her belly, she gives you a saucy wink over her shoulder
>"Welcome home, Anon," she says. "Can I take your order?"
>Lawdy lawd
"Uh," your mind races to think of something clever, and fails. "What's today's special?"
>Panne tilts her head toward the menu blocking her nethers. "Try the 'secret menu', maybe?" She sticks out her pink tongue, mocking you
"Secret menu huh? That sounds highly unregulated. High chance of, um, health code violations. Looks like I'll have to make a... thorough inspection."
>JESUS you were bad at this
>Panne doesn't seem to mind, though
>She just rolls her eyes and laughs, wiggling her butt. "Go ahead, Mr. Inspector. I've got nothing to hide."
>With that invitation, all that stands between you and glorious Panne ass is that flimsy menu
>yfw
>But as you eagerly pull the menu away, only too late do you hear the mechanical click
>The trap is sprung
>The next thing you know, an overripe mango has collided with your face, sending sweet, mushy goop everywhere
>Panne giggles as you wipe fruit from your eyes
>You can see the spring-loaded catapult poised between her legs, a string connecting its firing lever to the menu you just pulled
>"Hope you like fruit," Panne says. "Sorry Anon, I just couldn't resist."
"This holiday sucks total ass."
>"Oh, don't be like that." She flies up and wraps her forelimbs around your neck, clinging to your torso. Her pout turns into a grin. "Now, about that shower…"
>Oh bby
>"…you could really use one."