Tea For Two


                                            >Stepping off the train, you stop to warm your hands with your breath.

                                            >It's a cold day in Ponyville. Winters here are especially frigid, owing to the wide open plains. You're used to life on the coast, where the oceans keep the air more temperate.

                                            >Your partner, Long Haul, comes down the steps beside you.

                                            >"Cargo's in the second car from the rear," he says in his usual gruff tone, heading down the platform.

                                            >You glance at your clipboard. Your inventory lists 63 cases of assorted goods, going to various destinations in town.

                                            >Following your partner to the end of the train, you help him hoist the cart out. Once you set it down on the ground, you fasten the yoke around his neck.

                                            >After that comes loading the cargo. He waits patiently while you disappear into the shipping container and emerge with a box to stack on the cart.

                                            >The stallion makes conversation while you load. "You ever been to Ponyville?"

                                            >You grunt as you drop a case onto the bed.

                                            "No. You?"

                                            >"A few times, yeah. I usually run the North-South rail, but sometimes I get the odd job out west."

                                            "Seems like the Trans-Equestria Line saw fit to pair us together on this one."

                                            >You set a particularly light box down and lean over to read the label.

                                            >QUILLS (100000 CT)

                                            "Judging by the volume, they must not get big shipments often."

                                            >"Very old-fashioned, this place. Mostly self-sufficient. You know they do Winter Wrap-Up without any magic?"

                                            >That sounds like a pain, honestly. It probably takes the entire town. Not like back home.

                                            >You gaze out over the hay rooftops in the distance. Just looks like a bunch of backwoods huts.

                                            "Not sure why anyone would want to live a place like here."

                                            >"It has its charm. You'll see."

                                            >Once you finish loading the cargo onto the wagon, you walk into town alongside Long Haul. It must be a few thousand pounds back there, but he pulls it like it's nothing.

                                            >Probably how he got his name.

                                            >Or is it the other way around? You can never remember with these ponies.

                                            >Pulling up into the town square, you check your list. There are seven addresses for you to hit.

                                            >As you navigate the streets, your partner follows diligently behind you. At each store on the list, he stops outside, and you bring the deliveries inside. Once you clear with the owner, you move on to the next address.

                                            >After the sixth delivery, you come out to meet Long Haul.

                                            "One last shop. Then we can head back."

                                            >Confused, he glances over his shoulder behind him. "Can't be. Look at this, more than half the cargo's still in here."

                                            >You double-check the inventory.

                                            "Nope, says it right here. Thirty-eight units going to 55 Peach Street."

                                            >He shrugs beneath his yoke and turns back to face forward. "Whatever you say."

                                            >You trace the winding roads to a little wooden shop on the outskirts of town. A thick plume of smoke rises from the chimney.

                                            "This is it here."

                                            >You read aloud the painted shop sign hanging over the door.

                                            "The Tea Cozy."

                                            >The windows are frosted over, but through it, you can make out a colonially-decorated boutique shop. Wooden shelves filled with tea samples line the walls, and behind the counter, a burgundy mare is arranging displays.

                                            >She stretches up to reach the highest shelf, wobbling precariously on the tips of her hooves.

                                            >Long Haul's voice snaps you from your mooning gaze.

                                            >"Do me a favor, will you? Unload it all at once. Don't make me wait out here while you carry 'em in one by one, I'm freezing my tail out here."

                                            >Still a tad distracted, you answer him listlessly.

                                            "Yeah. Sure."

                                            >Following his request, you remove each box from the cart and set them down on the ground.

                                            >Once you're done, you give him the all-clear.

                                            >"Thanks. I'm heading back to the train. Meet me when you're done."

                                            >He sets off back down the road, the wagon wheels thumping against the cobblestones rhythmically with the clop of his hooves.

                                            >Hoisting up one of the boxes, you push open the door with your hip and step inside. Immediately, you're met by the ring of a bell and an air of warmth enveloping you. The store is filled with heavy aromas of tea leaves.

                                            >The mare behind the counter turns to greet her new arrival.

                                            >As you approach, box in hand, her eyes go wide.

                                            "Hi, I—"

                                            >"Are those my Silver Tips?" she asks excitedly.

                                            >You crane your neck to read the label on the side.

                                            "I, uh... I think so. This is 55 Peach, right?"

                                            >"It most certainly is," she says, trotting around the counter. "Set it down here, please?"

                                            >You place the box down on the counter for her. She takes a box cutter in her mouth and quickly unpackages the delivery. As she unfolds the lid, she peers inside, stunned, and a tiny gasp escapes her lips. "It is!"

                                            "I'll... go get the rest."

                                            >With the preoccupied mare's back turned to you, you slink out the door and retrieve the next box.

                                            >When you return, she's a little more composed. She smiles at you kindly. "Sorry about my manners. I've just been awaiting this day for a whole year."

                                            "Don't sweat it. Where should I put the rest?"

                                            >She comes over to a door beside the counter and opens it for you. "The back, if you don't mind."

                                            >You nod at her chivalrously.

                                            "As you wish."

                                            >You set the next box down in the storeroom, and come back out.

                                            >"Would you like some help bringing them in?" she asks. "I know I've got quite a lot."

                                            "No, no, miss, it's quite alright. I got my job, you got yours. If anyone comes in, I want you poised and ready to push some tea."

                                            >She titters at your little joke. "I always am."

                                            >As you steadily bring each box inside, you make conversation while you cross the shop floor from entrance to storeroom and back, pausing each time you leave and picking right back up again when you return seconds later.

                                            "What is this special shipment, if I might ask?"

                                            >She removes a case from the first box and sets it down on the counter for you to see. "Silver Tips Special Blend, prized for its incredibly strong flavor. It grows only in the Griffin Mountains, and even then, only for a small window each winter."

                                            "So you bought 38 cases?"

                                            >Her cheeks grow a deeper shade of red than usual. "Oh, it's— some of them are just my usual blends, but yes, I do try to stock up while I can. Everypony in town just goes mad for it, you see. I've been holding orders for months now, and I do my best to fulfill them all as best I can, hence the big shipment."

                                            "Wow."

                                            >You glance down at the box in your arms.

                                            "Must be good business."

                                            >"This blend alone accounts for a third of my income. For the whole year."

                                            "Really? That much?"

                                            >"Absolutely. It's a much-needed boost around the holiday season. I like to treat myself to a small celebration after I send every order out, usually just in time for Hearth's Warming Eve."

                                            "You mean like a party?"

                                            >She smiles. "No, no, nothing like that. I just close the store for the day, take a trip to the spa, and unwind with a relaxing evening at home. It's the little things, you know?"

                                            "Sounds like the perfect celebration to me. Low-key and low effort."

                                            >"Exactly! And I owe it all to this magnificent little plant here." She unwraps a small pack and breathes in its aroma. "The most soothing scent in all of Equestria."

                                            "I'm surprised I haven't heard of it."

                                            >"Oh?" she asks. "Are you a tea drinker?"

                                            "I am, actually."

                                            >"What's your favorite variety? I might have some for you."

                                            >You emerge from the storeroom and dust off your hands.

                                            "Jasmine green tea."

                                            >She breaks out into a wide smile. "Really?"

                                            >Her cute little grin is positively infectious. You can't help but smile back.

                                            "Yeah, why?"

                                            >"Nothing," she says coyly.

                                            >With a playful tone, you egg her on.

                                            "Go on, tell me."

                                            >"It's nothing, really..." She glances away shyly. "That's just my name."

                                            >Intrigued, you raise an eyebrow.

                                            "Oh?"

                                            >Resuming her usual bold self, she extends a hoof out to you. "Jasmine Leaf. Nice to meet you."

                                            >You take her hoof in your hand and deliver a firm shake.

                                            "A pleasure, Jasmine. I'm Anon."

                                            >You return to your task of bringing in boxes.

                                            >"Do you deliver these shipments all by yourself, Anon?"

                                            >Name repetition. Subtle, but cute.

                                            "I have a partner."

                                            >"And where is he?"

                                            "We have a division of labor. He pulls the cart, I load the cargo."

                                            >Setting the box down, you stand upright, hold up a hand for her to see, and wiggle your fingers.

                                            "Better use of our abilities that way."

                                            >Her eyes locked on your hand, she watches your motions with great interest.

                                            >"Do you enjoy your work?"

                                            "It's alright. Not many jobs for a guy like me, so you take what you can get."

                                            >"Well, you've been very helpful."

                                            >At that point, a pink earth pony arrives at the store. You hold the door open for her while you leave to get the next box. She doesn't acknowledge you as she enters.

                                            >Jasmine greets her cheerfully. "Hey, Lily!"

                                            >She comes up to her and points at the unwrapped pack. "Is that what I think it is?"

                                            >Jasmine slides it over. Lily props her hooves up on the counter to lean in and take a whiff.

                                            >"Absolutely amazing. Can I pick up my order now?"

                                            >"I'm sorry, dear," she says, returning the pack to the box. "I only just got the shipment." She nods her head towards you, still carrying boxes inside, and Lily looks over at you for the first time. "I have to do inventory and package everything before I can start fulfilling orders."

                                            >Lily pulls her hooves down from the counter. "Drat. You had my hopes up for a second there."

                                            >"It shouldn't be long now," Jasmine assures her. "A day or two at the most. I'll personally bring it by the moment it's ready."

                                            >"Fine," she says begrudgingly. "Just a box of earl grey for now, then."

                                            >Jasmine pulls a box from the shelf behind her and sets it down. Lily drops a few bits on the counter before taking it and departing.

                                            >As Jasmine drops the bits in the register, you look over your shoulder to make sure the pony's out of earshot before speaking again.

                                            "Geez. I didn't think tea shop patrons would be so rude."

                                            >"It's just the Silver Tips," Jasmine responds with a sigh. "Everypony's keen to get theirs as soon as possible."

                                            "Well, you have the patience of a saint."

                                            >That seems to visibly brighten her spirits just a little.

                                            >Before long, you set the last of the boxes down in the storeroom. Stepping back, you admire the neat stack you made for her.

                                            >Returning to the main room, you shut the door behind you.

                                            >"All done?" she asks.

                                            "That's the last of them."

                                            >"Thank you for being so delicate. I usually lose a few packs each year from the shipping company denting the corners. My margins are already so thin, every ounce counts."

                                            "Of course. It's my job."

                                            >You set the clipboard down on the counter for her.

                                            "You should check to make sure everything's right before signing off."

                                            >She picks up a quill and looks up at you charmingly. "You've been so sweet, I'll just take your word it's all there."

                                            >You chuckle.

                                            "I don't know about that, I can be pretty stupid sometimes. I've made mistakes before."

                                            >"It's fine," she says, signing her name with a flourish, "besides, if I'm missing anything..." She sets the quill down and slides the clipboard back to you. "...then I guess I'll just have to see you again, won't I?"

                                            >Your eyes meet hers, the two of you oddly captivated with one another. A few brief moments linger before she abruptly breaks away.

                                            >"I feel like I should tip you something—"

                                            "Oh, no—"

                                            >"—don't have many bits to spare until the orders go out—"

                                            "Really, I don't even take tips anyway."

                                            >Truthfully, some of the shopkeepers you visit will throw a few bits your way, but it ends up being a trivial amount of your wage.

                                            >Still, she insists. "You were here twenty minutes, and I know it's a large shipment, I feel like I should at least—"

                                            >As she opens the register back up, you stop her.

                                            "Tell you what, a box of jasmine green and we're square."

                                            >Her eyes flicker with surprise. "Really?"

                                            >You shrug lightly.

                                            "It's my favorite."

                                            >With an appeased smile, she shuts the register. "Okay."

                                            >You watch as she goes to retrieve a purple box for you. Taking it, you tap it twice against the counter.

                                            "Well, guess I better head out. Got a long train ride back."

                                            >"Oh," she replies softly. "Right."

                                            >Clipboard and tea in hand, you depart.

                                            >Halfway through the door, though, you hear her voice hastily pipe up. "Wait!"

                                            >You turn back to face her.

                                            >"W-Would you like to have dinner?"

                                            >You shut the door to stop the warm air from escaping.

                                            "Dinner?"

                                            >"I just thought, I wouldn't want to send you home hungry..."

                                            >Suddenly, her confidence has dissipated into total vulnerability, yet all it accomplishes is alluring you even more.

                                            "Yeah. Yeah, sure."

                                            >"Really?" She sounds surprised that you'd even consider her spontaneous offer.

                                            "I'd love to."

                                            >She fights to contain her enthusiasm. "That's wonderful..."

                                            "I just have to go let my partner know. Is that okay?"

                                            >She nods eagerly.

                                            "Great. I'll be back in a bit."

                                            >As you leave, a profound wave of elation washes over you, so much so that you don't even seem to notice the freezing temperature.

                                            >A continuous series of fantastic thoughts flow in and out of your head. In your reverie, you find yourself almost running back to the train station, and have to forcibly slow your gait to a normal pace.

                                            >As you come up to the train, you call out to your partner, who's sitting inside.

                                            "Hey! Long Haul!"

                                            >Confused by your yelling, he opens the passenger car window and leans out. "What are you doing? You're late! Get in here!"

                                            >You run up to his window. The steam whistle blows, and the engine emits a load hiss as it fires up.

                                            "I can't, I'm gonna have dinner!"

                                            >Your response baffles him. "What are you talking about? There's no time, train's leaving!"

                                            >The train lurches forward. The passenger car begins to roll ahead, and you follow alongside it to stay beside his window.

                                            "I'll just catch the next one!"

                                            >"There's not going to be a next one, this is the last one tonight!"

                                            "Then I'll get a room at the inn, it doesn't matter, I have a date!"

                                            >As you reach the end of the platform, he scoffs at you before resigning the futile effort and shutting his window.

                                            >You stand at the edge as the train picks up speed, watching as the last ride out of Ponyville disappears down the tracks.

                                            >Clutching the box of tea in your hand, you feel equal parts anxious and thrilled for the night that lies ahead.


                                            >When you get back to The Tea Cozy, Jasmine is tidying up the shop. Upon your arrival, the little overhead bell rings and the wind howls as it slips through the door.

                                            "So... dinner, huh?"

                                            >"I just have to do a few things before I can close up for the night. Do you mind waiting?"

                                            "Not at all."

                                            >Coming over to the counter, you watch as she restocks various boxes of tea in their proper positions.

                                            >You look over at the shelf closest to you and peer at it, reading the different labels.

                                            "I didn't realize there were so many varieties."

                                            >"Oh, yes," she says. "Ponies have been experimenting with tea for thousands of years. The kinds I carry are just a drop in the bucket. You should really check out the Canterlot Team Emporium. They have the widest selection in all of Equestria."

                                            >She stands on her hind legs, reaching up to place a box on the top shelf. She shakes a bit and almost loses her balance.

                                            >Instantly, you swoop in, diving behind the counter.

                                            "Here, I got it."

                                            >As you come up to her side and raise your hand to take the box from her, your arm grazes her mane. She drops back down, and you set the box in the space she was reaching for.

                                            >"Thank you," she mumbles, red with embarrassment. "You're very tall."

                                            >It's true. Even on her hind legs, you stand a good head over her.

                                            >She'd have a hard time booping you... if it ever came to that.

                                            >"I normally keep a stepladder around, but I can't for the life of me remember where I left the darn thing."

                                            "I can be your stepladder for the day. I'm not very good, but hey, I work for free."

                                            >"Is that so?" she smiles. "And how would that work, exactly? I stand on your back?"

                                            "Of course not. That's humiliating. No, I sit you on my shoulders and carry you around."

                                            >She chuckles. "Oh, be serious."

                                            "I'm totally serious! Are these the rest of the boxes you have to shelve? Climb up."

                                            >You kneel down and motion for her to sit on your shoulders.

                                            >She shakes her head graciously. "Oh, no, no. I couldn't possibly..."

                                            "Come on! What, are you scared you're gonna fall? I promise I'm not that clumsy."

                                            >She hesitates for a couple seconds with half-convinced amusement. "Are you sure?"

                                            >You hold out a hand for her.

                                            "It's better than stocking shelves the same old boring way."

                                            >Slowly, she takes your hand, and you help her up.

                                            "Good, wrap your legs around my neck. Hold tight just like that so you don't fall off. You can lean a little in either direction to steer me arou— see, you're getting the hang of it."

                                            >She leads you around the store, taking boxes from the behind the counter and bringing you over to their respective shelves. When you carry her within reach, you pass each box up to her and she sets them neatly in their proper place.

                                            "Isn't this much more fun than doing it the normal way?"

                                            >"I'm seeing the world from a whole new perspective! You just walk around seeing everything from up here all the time?"

                                            "I mean, I'm not as high up as you, but basically, yeah."

                                            >"We're so far from the ground. It's like being a walking building."

                                            >You pass a box of chamomile up to her.

                                            "You get used to it pretty fast."

                                            >"And the shelves!" she exclaims. "I've never seen them from up here before. Look at the backs of the top row, they're all askew!"

                                            >You try to raise your head to see, but the top shelf is around your eye level.

                                            "Want me to take you around so you can fix it?"

                                            >"Would you?" she asks, grateful that you would offer. "I don't think I'll ever get an opportunity like this again."

                                            "Say no more."

                                            >You carry her along the length of the walls, pausing intermittently so she can adjust the boxes into neat rows. The way she maneuvers you around and spurs you on with her kicky little hooves make you feel like the horse in this situation.

                                            >But she looks to be enjoying herself, and you're used to hauling around far heavier loads, so you don't mind in the slightest. Her tail swishing around excitedly against your back is a rather reassuring sensation.

                                            >She leads you around the shop, sometimes doubling back to fix a spot she overlooked, meticulously poring over every inch of her inventory.

                                            >Eventually, she realizes the time and stops herself. "That's enough of that." She pats your head. "You can put me down now."

                                            >Picking her up by the sides, you lift her off your shoulders, causing her to emit a little "oh!", and you set her gently down on the floor in front of you.

                                            >"I might've gotten carried away there," she mumbles. "Thanks for being so patient."

                                            "Honestly, it was a fun little exercise. I don't often get to carry ponies around."

                                            >"I offered to take you to dinner to repay you and ended up getting another favor out of you. We better leave before I subject you to any more labor."

                                            "Hey, for you, it's not so bad. But a meal sounds wonderful right about now."

                                            >"I know a cute little bistro just off the town square, if you'd like to go there."

                                            "Lead the way."

                                            >On her way out the door, she grabs her hat and scarf. Once outside, she locks up the shop, and you start off down the road together.

                                            >"Where are you from, Anon?" she asks.

                                            "Baltimare. I work for the Trans-Equestria Railway."

                                            >"That's the city with the big port, isn't it?"

                                            "Yeah. It's a major commercial hub, just about everything in Equestria comes through there."

                                            >She glances up at you. "Including my Silver Tips."

                                            >You turn down the street, walking past a row of shops.

                                            >"You must be used to the big city, then. How do you like Ponyville?"

                                            "It's kind of small. You probably know all the ponies here."

                                            >"More or less. It's changed a lot in recent years, for better and worse. Things were simple before Princess Twilight moved to town. Not that I'm complaining, but..."

                                            >She nods her head over at the magic castle looming over the town to show you what she means. "It's rather garish, I think."

                                            >You stare out at the giant structure.

                                            "What does she need a castle for?"

                                            >"Don't ask me," she says. "I'm not privy to royal affairs. I preferred the old library, but sadly..." She breathes a sigh.

                                            >She then changes the subject. "Princess Twilight's a sweetheart, though. She sends her assistant over to buy tea every so often. Some weeks, she manages to go through six boxes. She has very refined tastes, that one."

                                            "Do you know every pony in town's order?"

                                            >"Most ponies are very stuck in their tastes," she answers convivially. "Eventually, through all the repetition, you commit them to heart."

                                            >You look down at the purple box in your hand and rub your thumb over the label.

                                            "I'm sure it wouldn't be any trouble for you to remember my favorite order."

                                            >She smiles up at you warmly.

                                            >Soon after, you come up on the bistro. The patio outside sits unused, the weather far too harsh to warrant its use.

                                            >"Shall we?" she asks.

                                            >You hold the door open for her, and she strolls inside.

                                            >A cream-colored stallion with a thin blue mustache stands behind the podium inside. "How many in your party?"

                                            >"Two, please," Jasmine answers.

                                            >He eyes you curiously for a brief moment before grabbing a pair of menus and setting off. "This way."

                                            >You and Jasmine follow the maître d' through the restaurant floor, winding around tables, passing ponies deep in merry conversations, until you reach your own table in the corner.

                                            >He sets the menus down on the table. Instinctively, you pull out a seat for Jasmine.

                                            >"Oh," she says with mild surprise. "Thank you."

                                            >As she settles into her chair, you take the seat across from her. A small candle illuminates the table between you. You move the centerpiece off to the side.

                                            >"What, you don't like having flowers in the way?" she asks, half-teasingly.

                                            "No, it's nothing. I just wanted to see you more clearly."

                                            >"Interesting," she replies, as if taking note of it.

                                            >You open the menu and take a look.

                                            >Horseland has never had much in the way of options for someone like you. There's plenty of dishes for vegetarians, but when most of them are hay- or flower-based, there's not a whole lot that can make it through your primitive digestive tract.

                                            >After skimming through the various inedible options, you glance up at Jasmine over the top of your menu.

                                            "You're local, what do you recommend?"

                                            >"I usually get the daisy club. That, with a side of hay fries? Delicious."

                                            "Yeah, I can't really stomach that stuff."

                                            >"Why not?" she asks, still reading her menu. "I hadn't pegged you for a picky—" As she looks back up at you, her expression changes as though she suddenly remembered that you're human. "Oh. I see."

                                            >She sets her menu flat on the table. "I thought humans were omnivores, no?"

                                            "We are, when it comes to stuff like vegetables. Grasses and flowers are different. Something about cellulose, I don't know. I don't remember my high school biology."

                                            >"I'm sorry," she says softly, with an air of guilt. "I didn't realize, maybe we could go somewhere else, and find..."

                                            "No, no, no, it's totally fine."

                                            >You return to your menu and begin poring over it emphatically.

                                            "I'm sure there's something here I can have."

                                            >"We could ask the waiter to change around a dish to suit your palette."

                                            >You look around the restaurant, unconvinced.

                                            "I don't think this is the type of place that looks kindly on substitutions."

                                            >Yet she presses. "I'm sure they'd make an exception, based on your—"

                                            >You interrupt her before she can finish that thought.

                                            "Really, I'd rather not call more attention to it."

                                            >A tense discomfort crops up between you, and she looks down silently. You try to focus on reading, pretending it's not there.

                                            >"It's difficult fitting in here for you, isn't it?"

                                            >Her question freezes up your every muscle. You'd come here, hoping for a relaxing evening, a worthy distraction from your societal maladjustments.

                                            >But she wasn't wrong, was she? She had hit it right on the nose, like a volatile boop on your very soul.

                                            >It was always small things, never big. Simply menus catered against your diet or shifty-eyed maître d's. Nothing ever overt enough for you to address, but significant enough to remind you that you don't belong.

                                            >Just as it is now, where divulging these thoughts feels scarcely appropriate for a dinner conversation.

                                            >So, as always, you repress it, sit up straight, and give a dismissive answer that invites no further discussion.

                                            "Kind of."

                                            >Your eyes then land on the description of a garden salad where all but one of the ingredients don't read like they were plucked from a florist's catalog.

                                            >You show her your menu and tap a finger against it.

                                            "This looks good."

                                            >"Excellent choice."

                                            >After a couple minutes, the waiter comes around and takes your order. He sets a breadbasket down and departs.

                                            >Jasmine picks up a small loaf. "You can have bread, can't you?"

                                            "If I couldn't, I'd probably kill myself."

                                            >She snorts as she takes a bite. You grab some for yourself.

                                            >"Tell me about your job."

                                            "It's hardly as interesting as running a shop. I just haul boxes to and from."

                                            >"But it must take you all over Equestria. That aspect's certainly interesting."

                                            "I don't get assignments like this often. They don't like paying to house us overnight, so they never send us far. It's mostly consistent. Same schedule, same cities."

                                            >"Until my tea threw a wrench into your routine," she replies with a smile.

                                            "Exactly. But I'm not complaining, Ponyville's quaint. I'm glad I visited, but I still think the city's got this place beat."

                                            >"Oh, I'm sure Baltimare's rich with opportunity and all, but you haven't gotten to know Equestria until you've seen its heartland. Ponyville has a kind of magic you just can't capture in one day. "

                                            >As she goes on, you rest your chin on your hand and watch her narrate with bewitched interest.

                                            >"Every face you pass on the street is a friend of a friend at the furthest. The community is inseparable, we know we can rely on each other for anything. This is the sort of place you raise a family."

                                            "Do you want a family?"

                                            >Your question catches her off-guard, and mildly flustered, she blushes involuntarily. "I- I would, yes."

                                            "Is it different, dating in a town like this?"

                                            >"Things are very traditional. Stallions have their courtship rituals. But with such a small pool, it's hard to find a good match. In fact, I was talking about it with my friend the other day. She's a schoolteacher and she just had a courtship fall through. I'm sure it's different for you in the city. You could probably go on a date every night for the rest of your life and never see the same mare twice."

                                            "Yeah, I suppose I could..."

                                            >You sit back and run your hand through your hair.

                                            "I don't really date."

                                            >"That's surprising," she says. "Why not?"

                                            "No one reason... just a lot of little things."

                                            >She looks across the table at you with deeply expressive eyes.

                                            "I'll say this, though. Even when the pool's big, it's hard finding the one heart that matches yours."

                                            >When you say that, something flickers behind those eyes. Some sense of total understanding, empathy that could only come from knowing what that struggle is like.

                                            >Soon after, your food arrives. Between bites, you both continue talking about your respective lives, how they differ, and surprising points of similarity. She even teaches you some interesting tidbits.

                                            "Hang on, so earth ponies have magic?"

                                            >"All ponies have magic, Anon. Ever seen a pegasus walk on clouds? Haven't you asked yourself how that happens?"

                                            "I don't know the rules here! I'm a total moron. Someone always has to explain this stuff to me, there's no chance of me figuring it out on my own."

                                            >She's thoroughly entertained with your dramaticism. "Then I guess I'll be the one to enlighten you."

                                            "So unicorns have spells, pegasi have weather, what abilities do you have?"

                                            >"In general, lots of things. Our plants are supernaturally hardy, exceptional strength, increased fertility..."

                                            >You nearly choke on your salad and sputter a bit out.

                                            >She snickers and plays coy. "What? Did I say something wrong?"

                                            >After wiping your face, you lean in and whisper.

                                            "Is that true? You know, about the..."

                                            >She leans in as well, eagerly waiting for you to say it out loud.

                                            "...the agriculture?"

                                            >She throws herself back and giggles heartily. "Oh, it's all true. For me, I grow tea leaves behind the shop when they're in season. See my cutie mark?" She stands up a bit in her chair for you to see. "That's my special talent, growing them and brewing the perfect cup."

                                            "That's not fair."

                                            >She looks at you oddly, unsure by what you mean.

                                            "That's two talents."

                                            >"Nuh-uh! They're linked!"

                                            "You grow the leaves, that's one—"

                                            >"You have to grow them to—"

                                            "—and you brew the tea, that's two."

                                            >"It's one process, start to finish!"

                                            "You have two talents, and everyone else has one. That's cheating. I'm reporting you."

                                            >"Oh, really?" She smirks. "To whom?"

                                            "The Bureau of Cutie Marks. That's got to be a thing here, right? Someone misfiled your application, and you ended up with two cutie marks, the leaf and the cup, superimposed as one."

                                            >"Oh no, you caught me. At long last, my great scam has been exposed! Thanks a lot. Now I have to skip town."

                                            "Don't worry, you can hitch a ride on one of my trains."

                                            >"How thoughtful."

                                            >As the laughing and teasing dies down, you both return to finishing your briefly-neglected meals.

                                            "Is all that stuff true, though? Do all earth ponies have those abilities?"

                                            >"To some extent, yes. Why? Don't think I'm strong?"

                                            "Well..."

                                            >"Just because you can carry me doesn't mean I can't carry you."

                                            >She watches your face intently as the image pops into your head.

                                            >Clearly, that's what she was hoping for, right? Why else would she say it?

                                            "So you're a regular mare-cules, huh?"

                                            >"I mean," she pauses to take a bite, "certainly not the same level as earth ponies who drive plows and work the fields all day. But compared to your average mare? I like to think I'd surprise you, perhaps even outperform you."

                                            "I'd be interested in seeing that."

                                            >"Well, should the occasion arise, maybe you'll get to find out. You're not one of those guys who has to be physically superior, are you?"

                                            "Not at all. I could use the ego check, frankly. Besides, strength is very attractive."

                                            >Her satisfied gaze lingers on you. "I think so, too."

                                            >As you keep eating, it takes her a few seconds to speak up again.

                                            >"You know," she says, leaning in to take a sip through her straw, "I rather much liked watching you carry those boxes around today."

                                            "Oh?"

                                            >Intrigued, you set your fork down and put your elbows up on the table.

                                            >"What with your back muscles stretching out your shirt and all." She leans back in her chair with all the nonchalance she can muster. "Just an observation."

                                            "Really?"

                                            >Your tone carries an amused conviction.

                                            >"Aesthetically speaking, of course."

                                            "Of course."

                                            >You pick your fork back up and take another bite.

                                            "Aesthetically speaking, I very much enjoyed carrying you around earlier."

                                            >"Aesthetically speaking?"

                                            "You know, with your hooves draped over my shoulders and everything. It was just all-around visually pleasing."

                                            >"See, now I think you're just grasping at straws."

                                            "Alright, alright. But is it so bad to say I had fun?"

                                            >"Not at all," she answers warmly. "I had fun, too. The kind of fun I haven't had in a long time. And now..."

                                            >She looks down at her empty plate. "I had an equally fun meal."

                                            "Yeah? Sandwich was that good?"

                                            >She chuckles. "The food was fine. It was the company that made it worthwhile."

                                            >The waiter comes by to take your plates. "Would you like a dessert menu?"

                                            >"Oh, Anon," she says, tapping your hand gleefully, "you have to try the apple tart. It's fresh as can be, nothing like you've had back home."

                                            "I'm sold. I'll have one."

                                            >"Anything for you, madame?" he asks.

                                            >She waves him off politely. "No, I'm fine, thank you."

                                            >As the waiter walks off, you feign disappointment.

                                            "Oh, you're gonna make me get dessert and not get something yourself?"

                                            >"I can have it any day! It's special for you."

                                            "I'm going to look so dumb eating it alone while you sit there!"

                                            >"You will not!"

                                            "Either you share it with me, or I'm not having any."

                                            >She stares back at you with skeptic amusement.

                                            "I'm serious. Watch me, I'll send it right back."

                                            >"Okay!" she relents, breaking out into laughter. "I'll just have a tiny nibble."

                                            "You'll have half and you'll like it."

                                            >Once dessert concludes, you wait patiently for the waiter to return.

                                            >An empty plate, save for a few crumbs, sits between you.

                                            >"Wasn't that good?" she asks.

                                            "It was pretty good. But it's hard to be objective."

                                            >"What do you mean?"

                                            "Dessert's always tastier when you split it with someone. Have you noticed that? It bumps up the delicious factor by, like, twenty percent. Maybe more. Why do you think that is?"

                                            >"I don't know, maybe it's just the appeal of breaking bread with someone. The playful fighting of the forks, the secretly hoping you'll get to the last piece first but knowing you have to offer it anyway..."

                                            "Oh, so you saw right through that move, huh?"

                                            >"I did, but it was still pretty sweet. You get credit, don't worry."

                                            >The waiter brings by the check, and you pick it up straight away.

                                            >"Really?" she asks. "I asked you to dinner, dummy, I'm supposed to pay."

                                            "That was never stated."

                                            >"It was implied! This was to repay you for delivering my big order."

                                            "Whoa there, if I recall, that debt was settled once this little item changed hands."

                                            >You wave the box of tea in front of her playfully.

                                            >She scrunches up her face in response.

                                            "The way I see it, the moment you tipped me this tea, this dinner ceased to be a repayment and thus became a date!"

                                            >She sits back, letting you go on. "Boy, you're really lawyering your way out of this one."

                                            >You lean into it and charge ahead with the utmost confidence.

                                            "And I submit to you, that insofar as this is a date, I must be the one to settle the bill. After all, is that not one of your famed Ponyville courtship rituals?"

                                            >Brazenly, you set down a neat stack of bits upon the check and throw your hands up triumphantly.

                                            >She clops her hooves together in a sardonic display of admiration. "Bravo! Dazzling performance."

                                            "Thank you. The script came easy, but the choreography took forever to nail down."

                                            >You pick up your water to take a drink.

                                            >"So, you're courting me, then?" she inquires boldly.

                                            >You freeze mid-sip.

                                            >"Is that not what you said? Because, by your own admission..."

                                            >You set the glass back down.

                                            "Well, there's no way I can double back from there, is there?"

                                            >With a flick of her mane, she smiles. "Nope."

                                            "Then I guess the secret's out. I'm courting you."

                                            >After dinner, as you head out into the bitter winter night, you each wrap your hats and scarves extra tight to keep out the wind.

                                            >The moment the restaurant door shuts behind you, Jasmine looks up at you with great poise. "Would you like a cup of Silver Tip tea, Anon?"

                                            >Confused, you gaze back at her.

                                            "What?"

                                            >"I keep one box for myself each year. It's all I can afford."

                                            "No, Jas, I couldn't—"

                                            >"You brought it this far, it's only fair you be the first to sample it."

                                            >You hesitate. She gets one box of this stuff a year. How much is that, like twelve cups? Do you really want to take one of those away from her?

                                            >She shifts her hooves anxiously. "Please, Anon. Just say yes, don't make me stand out here in the cold any longer."

                                            "Okay."

                                            >In the dark of night, you walk the little tea pony home.


                                            >Jasmine takes you back to the Tea Cozy.

                                            >As she unlocks the door, she glances back at you. "I live just upstairs. I hope you won't judge me too harshly for that."

                                            "Not at all. Back home, that's pretty common. It's economical."

                                            >"I'd love to have a bigger space," she says, pushing open the door. "Nothing fancy, just a cozy, standalone cottage."

                                            >She undoes her scarf and hangs it up on her rack. "But what do I need the space for? It's just me here, no family."

                                            >You take off your hat and lay it down on a small table.

                                            "Soon, maybe."

                                            >"Wipe your hooves on your way in," she requests, trotting off toward the stairs. She makes it halfway there before catching herself and turning around. "Feet. I meant... feet. I'm sorry."

                                            >By then, you're already done and walking over. As you come up, you say nothing of it and give her a light pat on the head.

                                            "Want to show me upstairs?"

                                            >She nods affably and takes you up the staircase into a small living area.

                                            >There isn't much. A couch facing the fireplace, a kitchen off to the side, and through a doorway, you can make out a tiny bedroom.

                                            >She gives a little tug at your sleeve. "Sit down. Should I get started on the Silver Tips?"

                                            >As you take a seat at the end of the couch, you hold up your box of jasmine green.

                                            "Honestly, I wouldn't mind just having some of this. I don't want you wasting your best blend on a stranger."

                                            >With a slight tilt of her head and a smile, she says "We're not strangers anymore, Anon."

                                            >She goes off into the kitchen and continues, "Besides, you need to hold onto that. That's so when you go back home, you'll have a cup, and then you'll think of me."

                                            >You turn to face the doorway to the kitchen.

                                            "Do you want me to think of you?"

                                            >"Of course," she answers cheerfully.

                                            >How you wish you could see her face right now. Whether that was an inconsequential nicety, or she genuinely hoped she'd keep a place in your mind, you couldn't discern from her voice alone.

                                            >You find yourself wanting her to want you, and that can only mean one thing.

                                            >"Would you mind getting a fire going?" she asks. "The tea's best enjoyed on a cold night like this by the hearth."

                                            "Sure thing."

                                            >You get some fresh logs and stack them neatly within the fireplace. After crumpling up some newspaper for tinder, you light it and sit back, watching the flames grow.

                                            >You prod at the logs gently with the iron poker to achieve an even, temperate fire. Once it's steady, you get up off the floor and stand back to admire it.

                                            >Then you notice the decorations hanging from the mantle.

                                            "All set for Hearth's Warming Eve?"

                                            >"It's my first one here," she calls out from the other room. "I usually spend it with my parents, but they're traveling for the holidays this year."

                                            "You'll be alone?"

                                            >You don't know why you asked with such surprise in your voice. You spend every Hearth's Warming Eve alone. It's become perfectly ordinary to you.

                                            >You just didn't really expect a pony like her to be in the same position.

                                            >"I'm sure I'll see some friends through the day, but that evening, yes, it'll just be me relaxing here. Why? Do you have plans?"

                                            "No..."

                                            >You lean in to see some of the pictures on her mantle. Friends... family... baby pictures!

                                            >You pick up a frame and look at it closely. The filly depicted here has the unmistakable cutie mark you taunted just an hour ago, though the rest of her looks unrecognizably dorky.

                                            "Is this really you?"

                                            >She pokes her head through the doorway to see the picture you're holding up and immediately cringes.

                                            >"Don't look at that one! Go look through the better pictures."

                                            >You laugh and look down at it appreciatively.

                                            "No, it's great. You had the frizzy hair and the wire-frame glasses, super cool."

                                            >"It was twenty years ago, that was the style then! You show me your pictures and I bet they'd look funny, too."

                                            >You set the frame back down on the mantle.

                                            "Very cute."

                                            >"You think I'm cute?"

                                            "No, the— the picture..."

                                            >"Oh, so, I WAS cute, but I'm not anymore, is that what you're saying?"

                                            "No— I—"

                                            >As you trip over your words, she emerges from the kitchen with a smug little grin on her face.

                                            "You're screwing with me."

                                            >"Of course I am!" she laughs, heading back to the kitchen. "I don't need you to tell me I'm cute. I already know you think that."

                                            >Wait, what?

                                            "You do?"

                                            >"You've been stealing little glances all night."

                                            >You pause and look back on dinner. If that's true, you hadn't been doing it consciously. Maybe, on some level...

                                            >"Not that I mind, of course. I rather like the attention, actually. It's just... cute, you know? Cute you find me cute."

                                            >At long last, she returns from the kitchen, carrying a tray in her teeth. Completely stunned, you take it from her and set it down on the table.

                                            "There's a full teapot on here. How do you hold that up with your jaw?"

                                            >She just raises an eyebrow and smiles earnestly.

                                            "Earth pony magic."

                                            >"I told you we're strong, Anon. Besides, it's not like we have hands. Pony mouths can do things you've only dreamed of."

                                            >Immediately, you bite your lip and stifle a laugh.

                                            >"Oh, hush," she says, punching your leg. "Sit and I'll pour you a cup."

                                            >You comply wordlessly and watch as she pours out two cups in front of you.

                                            "Wow."

                                            >You stare down at the steaming tea swirling in your cup.

                                            "It's actually silver."

                                            >"It's a very special plant," she replies. "Just one of many reasons it's so highly sought-after."

                                            >She joins you on the couch while you take your cup in hand.

                                            "I feel like I'm drinking mercury."

                                            >"It won't kill you. I promise."

                                            >You hold up your cup, and she raises hers to match.

                                            "To a very special delivery to a very special mare."

                                            >She blushes and glances down. "Thank you," she murmurs.

                                            >Together, you take the very first sips of the Silver Tips season (trying saying that five times fast).

                                            >Despite its unnatural appearance, it's as smooth and silky as any tea you've ever had. Its taste is exquisitely potent and pleasantly sweet.

                                            >Your eyes light up as you finish your first sip, and she very clearly notices.

                                            >"Just wonderful, isn't it?"

                                            "This is the best thing I've ever had."

                                            >"I'm glad you appreciate it." She takes a sip from her own cup and breathes deeply as she savors every drop. "I'm not sure if the blend is particularly robust this year, or if it's just the physical act of sharing it, but it's just different somehow."

                                            "Better?"

                                            >"Better," she smiles.

                                            >She pulls a blanket from the other side of the couch and wraps it around herself before settling back into her spot beside you.

                                            >"Don't mind me. It just takes a bit for the fire to warm the room up."

                                            >Together, you drink from your teacups in quiet contemplation. The silence isn't tense like others before. Quite the opposite.

                                            >It is the silence of shared peace, of total contentment with where you find yourself now. A silence where words need not be said, because simply being here together, in this moment, is more than enough.

                                            >There is no communication at all, save for the occasional glance at each other, and the gratified smile that accompanies every sip.

                                            >The sound of the crackling fire is all that can be heard atop the faint billowing of wind outside.

                                            >And then, she does something that surprises you.

                                            >She rests her head on your shoulder.

                                            >It's one of those small, insignificant gestures. One that shouldn't consume your thoughts as much as it does.

                                            >It's so trivial, not even worth mentioning aloud. She is there, and you're happy that she's there. You feel compelled to tell her how much this little action means, even if it shouldn't mean as much as it does.

                                            >But as you look down, you quickly come to understand that acknowledging its existence would take its magic away, and the very reason she's doing it is because it means just as much to her as it does to you.

                                            >She is comfortable with you, and that's enough. It's a feeling of deep security.

                                            >The soft pressure of her head against your arm, the short pink strands of her mane cascading down your shoulder, her occasionally lifting the cup to her mouth to take another sip... Every minute detail carries so much weight in your heart.

                                            >Your hands are warm, wrapped tightly around the teacup. She's brought you peace in ways you never thought possible.

                                            >Part of you fears that you might ruin it, but mostly, you're not worried. There's a reason you are both here now, and it's not for naught. The tea has quelled the anxiety within you to nearly nothing.

                                            >Now, all that's left is your desire to be with her.

                                            >Softly, you whisper to get her attention.

                                            "Hey."

                                            >She picks her head off your shoulder, and gazes up at you. Even in the dim light, the shades in her irises are the most vivid blues, as if within them lay the entirety of the summer sky.

                                            >Any hesitation within you has long since melted away. Slowly, you lean in closer to her.

                                            >She tilts her head up to do the same, bridging the gap between you.

                                            >For the first time, you kiss her.

                                            >This kiss holds unimaginable longing and closeness. Your lips part hers, and you remove one hand from your cup to raise it up to her face.

                                            >Your fingers trace the underside of her mane. Soft and silky, just like her tea.

                                            >Time slows to a crawl as the external world disappears around you. You can taste the Silver Tips upon each other's lips, acting like some irresistible pheromone that makes you crave each other all the more.

                                            >You press more deeply into one another, expressing your infatuations the only tangible way you can. She whimpers faintly as your tongue meets hers, and your fingers run down the length of her neck, tracing the tips of her short mane.

                                            >Eventually, you gradually break away and look each other in the eye, though differently this time. Together, you crossed a line into strange new territory, and from here forth the whole dynamic between you has changed.

                                            >In the span of just one night, you went from strangers to soul mates.

                                            >"That was... something," she says.

                                            "I've wanted to do that for a long time."

                                            >"We just met today."

                                            "Feels like a lot longer."

                                            >"Yeah," she whispers, looking down at her cup. "It does."

                                            >You hold your cup up, motioning for her to do the same. Together, you drink up the last of your tea, and set the cups down on the table.

                                            "It's been such a long day of work, but I don't feel tired. Sleepy maybe, but not the exhausted kind. The relaxed kind. Feels... strange."

                                            >"Oh, don't worry about that. I added a little something to the tea to help you out."

                                            >Suddenly, you look at your empty cup, and then back to her.

                                            "D-Did you spike my tea?"

                                            >She smiles with an eerily empty expression. A gnawing sense of dread starts to set in.

                                            >Then, she bursts into laughter.

                                            >"Of course not! We drank from the same teapot, dummy, I poured it right in front of you. Earlier when you carried me, I sensed your muscles were a bit tense, so I added some peppermint leaves to the brew. They have a very soothing effect, that's all you're feeling."

                                            >You clutch your chest and breathe a sigh of relief.

                                            "Don't freak me out like that."

                                            >"How could I not?" she teases, nudging you playfully. "You set me right up for it."

                                            >Leaning back against the cushion, you drape an arm around her and pull her up to your side.

                                            >"Oh, hello," she says, looking down at your hand. "Feeling very snuggly, are you?"

                                            "Hey, if you don't like it, I can stop."

                                            >"No no no," she replies hastily, grabbing ahold of your arm as you start to pull it away. "I like it, I like it. Is that what you want to hear?"

                                            "It's a start."

                                            >She settles up against your side. "I haven't been held like this in ages. I forgot what it's like."

                                            "You look nice and toasty in your blanket."

                                            >"Oh, you want some? There's enough for us both."

                                            >Without a warning, she unwraps one end of the blanket and throws it over your head, trapping you both inside.

                                            >You adjust the blanket ceiling so you can see her.

                                            "Hello there."

                                            >"Hi." She smiles up at you with a goofy, self-satisfied grin.

                                            "Having fun?"

                                            >"I am. You?"

                                            "Tons."

                                            >"You like this blanket fort action we've got going on here?"

                                            "Oh, I'm very impressed by the initiative."

                                            >"Not every day a mare makes you a blanket fort, huh?"

                                            "Can't say you're wrong. But as far as forts go, this is a pretty basic one."

                                            >"What, you want a whole castle?"

                                            "No, but I mean, some supports, an entry flap, a lot of thought goes into a decent blanket fort. I appreciate the effort, though."

                                            >She rolls her eyes and throws the blanket off your head. "Okay, I need some more tea if I'm going to put up with you."

                                            >You each pour yourself a second cup. The fragrance quickly fills the small room.

                                            >"It's intoxicating, isn't it? It's so easy to go through a whole pot without ever noticing."

                                            "You know, I think you're a fool for sharing it with me."

                                            >"Really?" she asks, amused by the insinuation. "Then let's put it this way. If it wasn't for this tea, we never would've met. If I hadn't offered to share it, we never would've kissed."

                                            "Okay, maybe it's worth it."

                                            >"Maybe?"

                                            "It was a fantastic kiss, I'll give you that."

                                            >"Well then," she says, stretching up to kiss you on the nose, "MAYBE you'll get another one soon."

                                            >Fingers crossed.

                                            >The second cup goes by much more quickly than the first. With what tension remained now melted away, partly from the tea, partly from the kiss, lighthearted conversation comes rather easily.

                                            >You have no trouble making her laugh, once even coming so close as to nearly make her spit out her precious tea.

                                            >Another cup goes by, and another, each sip soothing your inhibitions a little more, until you've quickly finished the entire pot.

                                            >It is now late into the night, and you feel positively drowsy from a long day's work and a belly full of tea.

                                            >The two of you are lying sprawled out on either end of the couch, legs overlapping, staring up at the ceiling.

                                            >"I had fun today," she purrs.

                                            >Tired-eyed, you answer her quietly.

                                            "Me too."

                                            >"I didn't think I'd have so much fun. I was just happy to get my tea. I thought that'd be the best part of my day."

                                            "It wasn't?"

                                            >"No," she answers. "You were."

                                            >You can't see her face right now, but somehow you can picture her expression perfectly in your head.

                                            "Jas?"

                                            >"Yeah?"

                                            "Thank you."

                                            >"For what?"

                                            "You didn't have to keep me around. You could've sent me off like everyone else."

                                            >"I liked you," she whispers. "I wanted to get to know you."

                                            "I don't really fit in here."

                                            >You don't know how those words found their way out of your mouth, but in your placid state of mind, you're past the point of caring.

                                            >"I know," she answers sympathetically. "I know, Anon."

                                            "I don't think I'll fit in anywhere."

                                            >"Don't say that."

                                            "Why not?"

                                            >She pauses before answering.

                                            >"You fit just right next to me."

                                            >You feel her shifting around at the end of the couch, then the sensation of her crawling over to your end.

                                            >She lifts your arm up and around her, and buries her face in the crook of your neck. Her warm breaths run gently over your skin as she clings to you.

                                            >You bring your hand up the rest on the side of her frame. You can feel her body slowly rising and falling in time with every steady breath.

                                            >"Don't go home tonight," she says. "Stay here with me." There is a gentle pleading in her voice, a quiet desperation so soft it might easily go unnoticed.

                                            >You hear it, though. You can pick out every ounce of emotion and discern the meaning she instills within it.

                                            >She doesn't want to be alone tonight. She can't stand the thought of tearing herself away so soon after finding you.

                                            >And you, you don't want to leave, either. You found somewhere safe, somewhere you can finally belong.

                                            >Right next to her.

                                            >You are here. You are happy. And you are loved.

                                            >So on this quiet winter night, you have no qualms with staying at her side.

                                            >You roll over to face her, and bring your arms around her in a close embrace. She nuzzles your chest, and you kiss the top of her head, making her feel safer than she's ever felt before.

                                            >The fire crackles on, the air enveloping you is warm, and the room smells sweetly of tea.

                                            >But most sweet of all is the scent of the pony in your arms, the lovely little Jasmine Leaf.

                                            >You look over at the table. At the two teacups, at the now-empty teapot, at the purple box of jasmine green tea she gifted you.

                                            >Your favorite tea. Sure, Silver Tips might taste better, but you have a special attachment to the jasmine that you wouldn't trade for anything in the world. She'll always be your favorite kind of tea.

                                            >It doesn't take long at all for either of you drift off to sleep. The tea did most of the work already, and there is no warmer feeling than cuddling up against the mare of your dreams.

                                            >Tomorrow will be the start of an adventure as the two of you embark on a new relationship together, hand in beloved hoof.

                                            >But tonight? Tonight, you will have the best sleep you've ever had.

                                            >Because you have her, and she has you.