> 'It's so hot out here...'
> Butterscotch wiped the sweat off of his brow.
> He was third in line for lemonade, and the pony running the stand was taking an awfully long time.
> He gently flapped his wings.
> The small breeze it provided was nice, but it wouldn't quench his thirst.
> He gulped; his throat felt like sandpaper.
> He briefly considered switching over to the smoothie line.
> The line was much faster, but he didn't want to risk hurting the lemonade stand owner's feelings.
> Well, that and Gilda was at the back of that line.
>He'd rather stay in the slower line.
> Where it was safe.
>The line he was in finally moved forward.
> He smiled. He would get his relief.
> Soon, he got to the front, and immediately understood why it took so long.
> The CMCs were running the stand.
>Sweetiebell was stomping around in a barrel of lemons, the results were pouring out of a small tube and into an large bucket.
> Scootaloo was dumping bag after bag of sugar into it.
> "Ahem."
> He looked down. Applebloom smiled sheepishly. 
>"Sorry about tha' wait. We ran outta suger."
>'Gee, I wonder why...'
> She pushed a cup towards him.
> "That'll be 5 bits."
> He inwardly groaned, both at the blatant rip off and the fact that this wouldn't be worth the wait.
> He coughed up the bits anyway and took his drink.
> He dared to take a sip as he walked.
> He swore he could feel a cavity forming.
> Maybe he could--
>"Oof!"
> His drink hit the ground, along with a pink liquid.
>"O-oh! I-I'm sorry, I didn't...mean...to...oh no..."
>"WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING, DWEEB!"
> He tried to scuttle back, and out of the danger zone, but was dragged even closer into her personal space.
>She pointed at the strawberry smoothie smeared into her fur.
>"LOOK AT THIS! YOU CLUMSY JERK! I SHOULD--"
> Her eyes left his briefly, eyeing a much tastier treat.
>"Come on, dork. You're gonna clean this up."
> Before he can come up with any sort of reply, he's being dragged away.
>She stopped behind a building that Butterscotch couldn't place at the moment.
>"This is good. Get up, nerd."
> He scrambled to his hooves and began sputtering out apologies.
> "I-I'm really sorry, Gilda. P-please--"
> His apology was cut short as a hot, narrow tongue dragged up his chest.
> "What...what are you doing?"
> "Those kids really can't make lemonade for shit." She states, pointing at his drenched coat.
> He gasped as she pushed him against the brick wall.
> He could feel the panic beginning to rise in his throat.
> "W-well, if you'd let me get a warm rag or something, I could--"
>"No,"
> Her voice dropped to a husky growl.
>"I want you to clean it off with your tongue."
> Panic mode activated.
>"I couldn't! Th-this is wrong!"
> She grabbed a fistfull of his mane and shoved his face into her chest.
>"NOW!"
>Gilda could hear more muffled pleas vibrating against her chest.
>"If you don't, I'll rip your hair out by the roots and shove em down your throat!"
> His cries ceased immediately.
> Of course, Gilda wasn't THAT cruel, but the threat alone was enough to get him to comply.
> He gave a tentative lick, and immediately gagged.
> The strawberry was almost completely overpowered by the taste of sweat.
> The tears began to spill and he found himself full on sobbing.
> His tears were much more efficient in cleaning her than his tongue was, but she huffed anyway and yanked his head back.
> "Wow. You're crying?"
> He nodded, thinking she'd have a change of heart and leave him be.
> Instead, his right cheek exploded in pain, and he suddenly found himself on his back.
>"You look pretty when you cry."