>Day In Theory You Should Feel Bad For Doing this. In The Living Room.
>You are Time Turner.
>In case anyone was unaware, you're sort of awesome.
>You've managed to crash at your buddy Moose's house for a bit.
>You've managed to save a bit of cash.
>Oh, and the icing on the cake.
>You've managed to stick your dick in crazy Flutterpsycho and get paid. A ton.
>Mother would be so proud.
>"Ooooooooh mmmmmmmmmmmmy....mister th-that's so--"
>On some level this probably makes you a whore.
>Can guy's be whores?
>Probably.
>All things considered things could be going worse.
>You did manage to score the house for the night.
>Even if that mean's driving Moose somewhat twitchy and angry.
>And having to mop up a bit of ejaculate in the bathroom.
>Fluttershy's looking up at you.
>She's got a big smile.
>And crazy eyes.
>Yeesh. If you were some poetic pansy you'd describe them as like..
>Ever-deepening pools of radiant water in the moon light.
>Filled with sharks and chainsaws and razorwire and daddy issues.
>"C-c-c-could y-y-you d-d-do th-"
>Eugh.
>The stuttering.
>Moose stutters when he's nervous.
>And Fluttershy and him have got a lot in common.
>As far as issues are concerned.
>...and stuttering makes it feel like you're sticking it to him.
"Please stop stuttering."
>"W-what's w-wrong, m-mister Turner?"
>You can feel yourself losing any bit of arousal.
"Listen Fluttershy, I like the fact that we're screwing after a day."
>Any little bit helps. Haven't really been screwing around for a bit.
"And trust me when I say I really like that you give me money."
>She frowns and pulls her saddlebag out from under the futon.
>"H-how much?"
"But don't you think this is a little fucked up?"
>She blushes.
>"Y-you s-said a swear."
 
>Yeah this now entering creepy-mind-of-a-child-sexual-partner-ville.
"Screw it. Let's say sixty right now...and an extra forty because you keep sniffing his pillow."
>She blushes.
>This is one of the more fucked up things you've done in your life.
>And that's including that blackout drunk trip to Los Pegasus with...
>Well it was a blackout drunk trip.
>"H-hey...T-time--"
"Stuttering. Stop it."
>"...h-how come A-anonymous doesn't l-love me?"
>Well.
>Brutal crushing honesty?
>That might be--funny.
"Because you're a creepy stalker chick who accused him of rape and ruined the villain song and I still haven't forgiven you for that I mean COME ON--but seriously, you just come across as sick and depraved...sorta slutty."
>"...oh. B-but that's not true."
>She pushes you out of her.
"Fluttershy you couldn't have made your attempt to get to him any clearer."
>"W-what do you mean?"
>She starts mumbling and cleaning her snatch off on the sheets.
>You've gotta burn them anyway.
"Well. We both know you're only screwing me to try and get any information you can about him out of me. And steal his underpants--put those back by the way. It's all a sort of really sad, sick, twisted little game."
>"..you knew?"
"Any port in a storm. And Fluttershy, I gotta say while it might not be the choicest port in the storm, it pays pretty well."
>She sneers at you.
>See this is why you could never be a whore.
>You've got a smart mouth.
>Still, she's not really registering on the psycho-meter as high as what she should.
>After all, Moose seems freaked about her. And Big Mac doesn't even talk anymore.
>"That's really mean. T-taking advantage of me like that."
"Write your congressp0ny, Fluttershy. I couldn't give a flying feather."
>"...m-maybe I'll t-tell everyone you--"
"Saw that coming from the start. Moose is a witness that this isn't that. And trust me when I say if you fuck with me, you put yourself out of his reach forever."
>She shakes.
"And you can't have that now can you?"
>Trembling with rage.
"We're going to play my game now, and it's a fun one. Mostly for me, because well I'm the one who matters here. And frankly, I'm still a little peeved at you. So."
>And then she just sighs.
>And closes her legs.
>"S-so you said s-sixty bits?"
"Let's call it an even two-hundred and you're going to help me burn these sheets."
>She whimpers.
>She's not that hard to manage.
"We're going to have some fun tonight, you me and Moose."
>Hell, this pays better than your old gig anyway.
 
>Day This Is Not My Beautiful House. In Equestria.
>You are Civil Employee 808.
>You wake up.
>It's not cold.
>You're not tired
>But you are warm.
>And your neck is sopping wet.
>Derpy's snoozing on top of you.
>On the couch in her house.
>In her living room.
>She snores like a literal chainsaw.
>"Hzhgkkk-blo-blo-blo-bloo"
>Or maybe a weird chainsaw.
>She's drooling all over your neck.
>You try to shift.
>And she's got all her limbs wrapped around you.
>Even the wings.
>You can barely move your arms.
>You squint around the room for something to indicate the time.
>Cuckoo-clock on the wall.
>Squint.
>SQUINT.
>It'd be easier if it wasn't dark.
>4:30 in the morning.
>You have time left to cuddle.
>And enjoy this.
>Your leg is asleep.
>That's the worst.
>Derpy mumbles in her sleep.
>Man. She's too good for you.
>You'd never be able to find a girl like this back where you're from.
>Even if she's at least five years older than you.
>And has a kid.
>And her eyes are sort of off-kilter.
>She's just too great.
>"M-moose."
>Is she mumbling in her sleep?
"Yeah?"
>Her face starts to scrunch up.
"...d-Derpy?"
>She sneezes all over your face.
>You just shiver.
>She yawns.
>"...sorry."
 
>Fall back asleep.
>Wake up.
>Squint at clock.
>5:15.
>Derpy is up.
>Making coffee.
>Cooking pancakes.
>You wipe the dry saliva and mucus off your face.
>Stretch your arms and legs.
>Collapse on the floor like a newborn deer.
>She stops what she's doing and looks at you face down in the shag carpet.
>You can hear her giggling.
>You wave a hand at her.
"I'm g-good...morning."
>She keeps her voice rather pleasant and quiet.
>She still sounds tired.
>"Morning Moose, Dinky's still asleep. So ssshhh."
>You lift your head out of the carpet.
>Spit some frayed rug out.
>She snickers.
>"Want some coffee?"
"How come you're up so early?"
>"I always get up this early. Gotta deliver the mail."
>You run your hands through your hair and go sit in the kitchen.
>Your blue file folder is on the table.
>"I didn't know you could do taxes, Moose."
"I w-was a double major."
>"Oh-la-la."
>She pours you a mug of coffee.
>The mug says "Funky & Klunky" and has a horse face-down on a dance floor.
>You sip some coffee.
"I l-like you."
>She laughs.
>"Well that's good!"
"And I'm s-sorry for coming here without calling first."
>She waves it off.
>"It's fine Moosey-goosey."
>She sips some coffee and her eyes contort.
>She gags.
>She sips it again.
>"Dang good coffee."
>Yours tasted fine.
 
>"What happened anyway?"
"Wh-what?"
>"What happened to your house?"
"Oh...uh..."
>You sip your coffee.
"T-Time Turner's been cr-crashing there...and he g-got a...well not a g-girlfriend."
>She sits down and gives you a scrutinizing glance.
>But there's no ill-will behind it.
"He's...uhm...Y'know f-fl-Fluttershy?"
>She nods.
"...well he's s-sorta prostituting himself out t-to her."
>She snorts and tries not to crack a smile.
>She tries to hide this by drinking more coffee.
>And gagging again.
"I uh...w-walked in on th-them y'know...d-doing the d-do?"
>She starts giggling.
>"Well, you won't have to worry about that this weekend."
>You feel your cheeks redden.
"...just a f-forewarning, I have never done this before."
>She nods.
>"Well I'm outta practice too Moose. Not since Dinky."
>Oh great.
>No pressure there.
>"...just--fun and stuff, Moose."
>You smile. Awkwardly.
>She can tell you're nervous.
 
>She heads off to work before it's even 6:00.
>You never really thought of her working hours.
>She always seems perky by your 11:22 lunch break.
>When she stops by to deliver the mail.
>And you were up so late with her last night.
>That might not've helped.
>You sip your coffee.
>"Are you going to marry my mom?"
>Coffee dribbles out of your mouth back into cup.
>Dinky is standing at the little kitchen/living room seperator.
>She looks tired.
>"Can I have some coffee?"
"Uhm...uh...uh..."
>Pull it together man.
>It's a kid.
>You're dating her mom.
>...and even though you've only been official for a day.
>You've been doing the dating stuff for a few weeks, if you count the movie.
>You don't count movie night.
>"Mom doesn't let me have coffee but sometimes I have it anyway."
"Sh-shoul---that's n-nice."
>"How come you talk funny?"
>You close your eyes.
>Concentrate.
"I...nervous tic. It's annoying, but you get u-used to it."
>"You sound like you've got an echo."
>You smile and shrug a little.
"Well...th-that's probably the nicest way someone ever addressed it."
>"How come you slept here?"
"Uh..."
>Think of something.
>Honesty is the best policy.
 
>...yeah not in this case.
"Shark attack?"
>She bursts into a gigglefit.
>"That's silly."
"Tell me about it."
>She serves herself breakfast.
>Pancakes.
>She does give herself some coffee.
>You don't know if you should interfere.
>You look over your blue folder.
>Do some work while Dinky eats.
>"What'cha doing?"
"Oh. Uhm. Boring political stuff."
>She smiles.
>"That's neat."
>You nod a little.
>"...do you love my Mom?"
>Oh this is painful.
>You are way too young to know how to deal with this.
"I uhm...well---uh...Dinky, I've only r-really known her for a month. And we've only been h-hanging out these past few w-weeks."
>You have no more coffee to sip.
"And we...I really really like her."
>She finishes eating.
>"You don't have to walk me to school, but you can."
>She seems very independent yet youthful.
>On some terrible unconscious level you've made a checklist.
>And this is more in the Dead Dad column than the Divorcee Derp column.
>You're going to hell for these thoughts.
>She packs up a little saddlebag backpack and walks to the door.
>"Are you going to be here all day?"
"What? No. I'm uh...Let me grab my coat, I'll walk with you."
>You grab your coat and folder.
>You depart.
 
>You talk about favorite colors.
>And books and movies, simple things of no real consequence.
>Because the walk to school feels long.
>She likes scary movies and scarier books.
>She says her mom doesn't like them because the covers are too scary.
>You tell her that's cool.
>Kids are really nice.
>Well the ones here anyway.
>And probably the ones back home too.
>Your roommate let them egg you that one Halloween.
>That wasn't fun.
>She asks how come you're scared so often.
>You tell her you aren't.
>She says you act like it.
>Kids say the darnedest things.
>Dinky heads into the schoolhouse as soon as you arrive.
>You smile as the door closes.
>If things get more serious between you and Derpy, this kid will be someone you're responsible for.
>Shaping individuals into productive adults.
>...You choose to ignore the grand irony of this.
>And head to work before you're too late.
>You make your way to City Hall.
>Nobody seems to mind you being a few minutes late.
>If they do, they don't say anything.
>Your new desk is beautiful.
>Rich mahogany.
>The file cabinet slides in and out easy enough.
>You even have a placard. "Civil Employee - 808"
>Sure the numbers come off, but it's a little slice of your own.
>You get your things out of the supply closet and set up shop.
>Today.
>Today might be a great day.
 
>Do some proper work, a little harder than usual.
>The Mayor stops by before lunch and appreciates your productivity.
>You tell her that her hair looks nice today.
>She laughs and thanks you.
>You get some spare time to work on the blue folder.
>Fix some things up for a few individuals who could be writing off more than they are.
>Every little bit helps.
>Fluttershy's little forms linger with you.
>A lot of dependents. A lot of write-offs that don't make sense.
>She's listed "Kindness" as her occupation.
>That doesn't even make sense.
>She said she was a model.
>..though she's also completely insane.
>The possibility of being able to bust this psycho on tax fraud would be too good to be true.
>Worth further investigation.
>Stop by Minuette's desk and give her the completed folder, sans Fluttershy.
"I uh...gotta double check one l-last one, but--"
>"Celestia, eight-oh-eight. Wasn't really expecting you to have it done this quick."
"Well it's easy stuff."
>She gives you a look.
>"...Well goodie for you."
>You smile.
>"You want a treat or something?"
"What?"
>"Why are you just standing there?"
"Oh..uh.. b-b-bec--"
>"Stop stuttering. You know that's annoying right."
>Yeah. This bitch.
>She doesn't get smiles.
>Stop smiling.
"Hey uhm...you wanna do something for lunch?"
>She starts laughing.
>"Is that you offering to pay?"
"Uhm...m-maybe."
>"...can I bring some friends?"
"D-do I have to pay for them?"
>She gets this look of pure malevolence on her face.
>"Well, you make it sound like you were going to if I said yes. So yeah, sure. Let's do that."
 
>"So I said I was the first mare to sit on a bench like that, tell him I said that Bonny."
>You know them from their taxes.
>Lyra Heartstrings and a Miss Bon Bon.
>"I don't think he cares Lyra."
>"Yeah but he sits like that and I sit like that. How do you hold your cups?"
>You hold your cup like a normal person.
>Minuette watches with amusement while enjoying her over-priced salad sandwich.
>Lyra nearly creams herself. And you'd never use that phrase if it wasn't true.
>"Wow Lyra. He holds it like you do. I am shocked. And amazed."
>Miss Bon Bon's ton is anything but.
"So hey...you guys are f-from here, right?"
>This gets some weird looks.
>Lyra seems fascinated.
>"Well I'm from Canterlot originally but y'know sometimes you just have to move around--how do you use pens?"
>Minuette face-hoofs.
>You pull a pen out of your pocket.
"H-how much do you guys know about uh..."
>You pull out Fluttershy's forms from your coat pocket.
>You click the pen.
>Lyra's got a bigger smile on her face than a kid getting a Super NES on Christmas Day.
"...Mr. McBiteyPants...Hipployna? Hippo-something-name. An Angel Bunny...couple other ones here.."
>You start going off the list.
>Minuette eats her lunch, her interest in this clearly non-existent.
>Miss Bon Bon seems more concerned at Lyra's fascination.
>Lyra just keeps looking at your hands.
>You click the pen again.
>You don't feel clean.
"...l-ladies?"
>Lyra coughs and tries to regain composure.
>"Those are like her pets or something...click the pen again?"
>Bon Bon gives you a look that says do not click the pen again.
>Minuette just seems amused by this...whatever this is.
"Pets? They don't...talk or anything do they?"
>You click the pen again.
>"Why would they talk?"
>Bon Bon comments while she sips her twelve bit fruity beverage.
"W-well...s-sometimes animals talk."
>This gets a shrug from her.
>Lunch, while costly, has given you something of an edge.
>"So what does a human penis look like?"
>Lyra winks.
>Bon Bon spits out her drink.
>Minuette laughs awkwardly.
>"Whoa. Wow! Look at the time, eight-oh-eight. We need to get back to work."
>You still have a good twenty minutes.
>But you agree that now you really do have to get back to work.
>For so many reasons.
 
>Minuette has to apologize for her friend when you get back to the office.
>"She's...just so happy she thinks she's a trendsetter."
"B-because she holds cups like a normal person?"
>Minuette just sort of nods, as if acknowledging the craziness of the statement.
>"She's a musician. She plays the harp. She read that book they wrote about you-"
"--wait, w-what? Who wrote a b-book about me?"
>"We got some pamphlets about workplace conduct when we heard you were getting transferred here."
>Part of you is all too aware Minuette probably used that to line a toilet seat to sit on.
>"She thinks hands are awesome and wishes she had some."
"Sh-she's not going to like...attack me is she?"
>Minuette just laughs.
>And then she stops.
>"You being serious, eight-oh-eight?"
"...maybe."
>"No she's not going to attack you. She's probably going to try and get you to do stuff to her with your hands. Or invite you over for dinner. She's a terrible cook, don't eat her food."
"W-well I am dating someone else so I'll p-probably just pass altogether."
>"Probably?"
"Definitely."
>Minuette smirks.
>"Well good. Because if you're just stringing four-oh-four around I'll cut your balls off."
>You pale at the statement.
>She laughs.
>"That's a joke, eight-oh-eight. You can laugh. I am hilarious."
"Oh...y-y-yeah."
>You force a laugh.
>It's awkward and painful.
>Minuette laughs at your laugh.
>"Now see, that's comedy gold right there."
"..I'm going to go get back to work."
>"You going over there tonight?"
"What?..why?"
>"I dunno. Excuse me for trying to have a conversation."
"You--but--...maybe. I kind of need to clear up s-some issues at home."
>You do need to actually deal with the Fluttershy issue.
>But you've got a loaded gun on this one.
"Oh...and I don't w-wanna like...appear too clingy?"
>Minuette snorts a laugh.
>"You know you are a lot funnier than you probably know."
"And t-that's probably a joke at my expense."
>Whatever. This is your relationship with Minuette.
>Sort of like a worse relationship with a female Time Turner.
>...Well you're approaching some mental dangerzone, let's stop thinking for a bit.
 
>You plan to depart at a normal time.
>You thank the Mayor again before you go.
>She asks if you think grey is a dignified color, because she could go pink.
>You don't know what she means exactly but you tell her grey is like stone.
>Reliable, unshakable, a foundation for a better tomorrow.
>Pink is not that.
>The Mayor appreciates your critique.
>You go home.
>You knock on the door first.
>"I'm not screwing anything."
>Time Turner is eloquent.
>You're feeling somewhat smug.
>Open the door.
>New sheets and a comforter.
>He really went all out.
>Time Turner is sitting on the futon reading a paper.
>"How was work Moose?"
"...good. Is she here?"
>"She's in the shower."
"You re-realize how big an issue this is for me r-right?"
>"One hundred percent, Moose."
>He flips the pages.
>"It's taken care of, don't worry about it any."
"I k-kinda have to worry, Time...she...uhm.."
>"She's crazy. Yeah. I know."
>He lowers his paper.
>"You think I should splurge on a big one-page advertisement or a few color ink ones?"
>He gets a big grin.
>"I know what one is more frugal...but I really want to come out strong."
"...what?"
>"I've got my start-up funds."
"Well goodie for you Time, but th-there are bigger issues here!"
>He sighs.
>"Moose. Listen. I am -sorry- you had to see that. And trust me when I say I know she's nuts. But I think this is the best situation for all of us."
>You can feel the window of your mind beginning to crack.
"How. H-HOW is that...just how."
>"Tell you what, re-heat that spaghetti in the mini-fridge and crack open some brews. And let's all just have dinner."
"How. Time. Turner. HOW."
>"Just...hear me out, I've got a plan."
"I'm waiting to hear that plan right now."
>Didn't even stutter.
>"It's more of something you have to see in practice.
>Fluttershy emerges from the bathroom.
>She's using your towel.
>"Oh..h-hi mister."
>She takes a big whiff of your towel.
>"V-vanilla is a n-nice shampoo."
 
>Dinner with your former rapist.
>And your so-called best friend.
>And your least favorite pasta.
>You don't really drink beer either, so these "brews" sort of accentuate how much you dislike the dinner.
>You sit at your little folding table in the kitchenette.
>Time Turner sits next to you on one side.
>Fluttershy on the other.
>"S-so h-how was your day Anon-"
>Time Turner just glares at her.
>"What did I say about the stutter?"
>She frowns and looks down at her plate.
>He grins at you.
>As if this is how he has it under control.
>As if this is his plan.
>In any other situation you'd feel really bad about how a lady was being treated.
>Of course that's mostly because you can relate and you wouldn't speak up anyway.
"My day was f-fine."
>You take a forkful of the spaghetti and look at it before putting it in your mouth.
>It reminds you of worms.
>Just how limp they are and how if you don't cook it right it sorta smells.
>"D-did you uhm..f-fuck that--"
>Time Turner spits on her plate.
>She just twitches and fumes.
>She says nothing.
"I'm n-not discussing that with you fl-Fluttershy."
>She just sighs and glares at her plate.
>"Eat your spaghetti, Fluttershy."
>She looks like she's going to cry.
>Time Turner looks exceptionally amused.
>He nurses his bottle, watching.
>You eat your damn spaghetti.
"E-everything y-you ever wanted and h-hoped for, eh F-fl-Fluttershy?"
>It doesn't taste that bad.
>But it's the texture that bothers you, not the taste.
>"Eat your food, Fluttershy. Have a little respect for another individual."
>She looks blankly at Time Turner.
>"C-can we t-talk mister?"
>He laughs.
>"Well we know -I- can talk, b-bu-b-but you keep stuttering. So maybe when you get a little older we can have a real conversation, but until then maybe you should just shut up and eat the damn pasta."
>She pulls a single noodle off her plate and sucks it down.
>A look of pent up fury on her face.
>This must be the so-called control and the so-called plan.
>It...does work in practice.
>But you get no catharsis from this.
>You must make a killing stroke on your own terms.
"Fluttershy, who is Angel Bunny?"
 
>Her face lights up as you address her.
>"He's my best most favorite bunny, Anonymous! Do--you n-never got to meet him."
>She pouts but she seems overjoyed you're talking to her.
>You take a sip of beer.
>You will never have the stomach for alcohol.
>Let alone this amber liquid.
"..d-does he talk?"
>"Oh no. He's a bunny rabbit."
>That's some level of admission there.
>Try to conceal your smile.
>Fuck it. And you mean that.
>Time to do it up.
"How come you listed him as a dependent?"
>"Oh..well he depends on me?"
"Yeah, that's not what that m-means on tax forms Fl-Fluttershy. That's a big issue."
>She shrugs and blushes.
>"Well I'm sure the p-ponies up in Canterlot c-can sort it all out."
>Time Turner seems content to watch, but he does comment.
>"No, they might pay you a visit and take a bunch of your stuff. Taxes are serious business."
>Fluttershy pales a little.
"Though...only if som-someone were to report it. Y-you can probably get swept under the rug as usual."
>She nods a little.
"Fl--"
>You take a breath.
>Serious threats demand serious straight talk.
"Fluttershy if I ever see you again and you ever try anything at all I will file a formal report to demand inquiry on potential tax fraud and at the very least payment of owed back taxes which will surely rock your little rape-and-rampage world---you get what I'm putting down, slick?"
>...you get what I'm putting down slick?
>Slick?
>What the fuck.
>Well you tried too hard and you ended up going a little Tommy Lee Jones.
>Time Turner is polite enough not to ruin your moment by laughing at your poor choice of words.
>He does spit in her pasta again.
>Fluttershy tears up and pushes away from the table.
>"...A-anonymous can I see you outside?"
"No."
>She huffs and her lips begin to wiggle almost in cartoonish sadness.
>"Puh-puh-please m-mister?"
>Time Turner gives you a shrug.
"Fine. But if you ever-EVER show up again F-fluttershy I swear."
>She whimpers out a mumbled and sad.
>"I know..."
 
>You step out on the front steps.
>She flutters behind you, ready to cry.
>You almost feel bad.
>She turns off the water works.
>You fold your arms.
>"I think we're done with games now mister."
"W-when did we ever have those?"
>She's got that tone, you know it.
>It chills your spinal fluids.
>"You're not going to get rid of me."
>But you're going to be strong now.
>Because you have to be.
"I'm just d-doing my job. And if I can s-screw with you and get you OUT of my life..that's a happy accident."
>Well actually it isn't your job. It's a favor.
>She doesn't need to know that.
>Or care.
>She smiles a little.
>Runs a hoof around the outline of your face.
>"Silly Anonymous."
>She pushes your chin up so you look her right in those cold dead eyes.
>"Y-you're trying to make me d-disappear."
"I AM trying to get -rid- of you. I'm entering a new stage in MY life and I KNOW you will -destroy- that if you can."
>She laughs.
>It's bitter.
>Chilling.
>"And you think you're going to do that with some papers?"
>She plants a kiss on your lips.
>You pull away.
>"Do you -really- think that's a good idea, mister? I know the Princesses."
>It's always who you know.
>It's always who you're friends with.
>"You didn't think about that, did you Anonymous?"
>There was a fire growing in your heart.
>It's gone cold.
 
>"So..n-now, unless you're ready to f-finally accept me mister.."
>She falters in her fury and blushes a little.
>Fluttershy appears to be remorseful.
>About the shit she's had to do so far.
>"Are you r-ready to love me?"
>You swallow hard.
>You can feel your hands turning into fists.
>The coldness runs deep in your veins and at the back of your mouth.
>Your spine feels blistered but there.
>Something inside of you is gone inside a cocoon.
>And the dreadful metamorphosis from beta male to apex predator occurs with a single sound.
WHAM
>You look at the yellow pegasus now holding her tummy.
>She took the blow like a champ.
>You pull your hand back.
>It hurts.
>OW.
>You are not built for violence.
>She whimpers.
>"P-please j-just accept me..."
>You just close your eyes.
"S-sorry. No. I'm never going to accept you or any of those crazy 'we're so alike' b-bull--craziness."
>You rub your hand.
>Her voice goes flat.
>"I could just take what I want."
>She frowns.
>"I did that before...I-I just want s-something more, Anonymous."
"T-time Turner not doing it for you?"
>Her face contorts in rage and she mutters some very dark and unnerving things under her breath.
>"I...I want -you-."
"Well YOU cannot HAVE -ME-."
>You push her away and step back inside the house.
>As you close the door you can hear her say with crocodile tears in her cold eyes.
>"T-then I'm g-going to make you disappear."
>"...and it's g-gonna be awful, mister."
 
>Time Turner explains in detail how he managed to bilk her out of almost a grand solid in less than 36 hours.
>You tell him he's a horrible stallion and he should feel bad.
>He says he does but now he can get on with his life.
>That everyone makes mistakes.
>And that he just wanted to show you he could take control of something in his life.
"That's...a really b-bullshit reason, Time Turner."
>He finishes his third bottle, his long tongue getting any remaining alcohol from the bottle.
>"Tell me about it buddy."
>Time Turner and you end up laying on the futon and just glaring up at the ceiling in silence for a bit.
>Eventually you have to address the posters he's stuck up there.
>"You don't like musical theatre?"
"Musical theater?"
>"You're saying it wrong. Musical theatre."
"I...I like some stuff."
>He wraps a hoof around the back of your neck.
>Doing Derpy's move.
>And drags you close.
>He gives you a noogie.
>"It was a rough day and a half. Sorry you saw my dick."
"...no-no-no. I'm SORRY I saw you're d-d--that thing."
>"Try not to drool when you talk about it, you'll ruin my street credentials."
>You sock Time Turner in the chest.
>OH GOD.
>Should've used a different hand.
>And remembered you're bad at punching.
>"But did you have a good day at work--fuck me, you have a good time with your lady friend?"
>You just smile a little.
>And you tell him all about your day and your night.
>He claims you blew it.
>You elbow him in the gut to much greater effect.
>He noogies you again.
>You explain your fear of getting into a relationship with a much older woman.
>Specifically one who has a kid.
>"Well you've made the right move by not using the L-word barely a month in. If she's thinking about sleeping with you she might feel more involved with you--so maybe save it til then. Or don't, because she might think you're only doing it because you're getting some sex."
>That advice just adds a little more pressure.
>He congratulates you on your new desk and sorta promotion.
>You ask him about his little business thing.
>He says he'll show you later.
>You lock the doors and windows.
>You curl up under comforters while Time Turner lays a few inches away, humming what you can only assume to be Officer Krupke.
>You're terrified of a lot of things.
>But he's not that bad a friend.
>Or maybe he is and you have low standards.
>It doesn't matter.
>You feel a little less pressure and fear with him there.
>Tomorrow you're going to go file your formal report.
>And hope that just because she knows people high in power,
>It'll be enough to stop
>Fucking Fluttershy.
>Before you "disappear"
>...that's an ominous fucking threat.