You're standing in front of the booth, idly picking through piles of useless Fluttershy nonsense to get to the real ponies when he comes up behind you. His breath is too loud and moist and it hits the back of your neck like a heatwave. Your lip turns up a little and you turn around to say something, snark poised expertly on your lips.
He's large and imposing. Those are the first two things you notice about him, as your brain quickly scans for any weaknesses to target and exploit. His glasses are slightly cracked, and dark. Shades inside?
You adjust your own and continue your appraisal.
Strong. Very strong, judging by his forearms- me-ow, wow, what you wouldn't give to- no Dirk focus, focus.
"You smell like a cat in heat making out with a waterfall." Not your best, but then, he didn't give you much to work with when everything about him is exactly what you find attractive in a man. He looks perturbed, then startled ('Wrong order, man, get it right,' you think to yourself) and then finally indignant.
"I beg your pardon? A cat- That is just ludicrous." British. His accent is British and it's like a babbling brook soothing the burns your last boy left you with. It forces your shoulders to tense and then slump immediately, before you catch yourself and berate yourself for being stupid.
"Yeah, well, if you didn't smell exactly like something festering in the sun for the past millenia, I wouldn't be floundering to come up with accurate words to describe the arcane horror that is your stench." You look him over once more and your eyes catch on the print in his hands.
"Is that a print of Rainbow Dash signed by the artists." You're careful to keep the emotion out of your voice, but a tiny squeak on your last syllable breaks through.
He looks ruffled, and then pushes past you (gently, you realize, like he's afraid you're made of glass and you'll break into brittle little pieces if he pushes too hard) to get to the table you were just at.
"It is none of your business." His nose is so high up in the air you can see the hairs quivering with indignity that such a plebe as you would dare address him.
You keep addressing and you keep pushing.
"Because I tried to get one of those but by the time I got to the front of the line they'd closed the booth." You try very hard this time to train your voice down to a normal decibel level, and you manage to work it. All you want to do is scream and offer him your entire collection of limited edition plushes to get that print.
Your fingers twitch and tingle a little. Your leg quivers and jitters. He turns back to you, and simply looks. You can't tell if he's doing more, fucking shades, and suddenly you realize just how infuriating it must be for people to talk to you.
Only you're feeling like a pile of cracks and rubble.
"So, y'see. If you were willing to sell it-" he snorts.
"Take it." He hands it to you and your world freezes as his fingers brush against yours. You clear your throat. "Just like that, man? I mean, I can pay you for it."
He rolls his eyes. You can tell because his eyebrows rise up too. "I am much fonder of Rarity." Of course. Of course he is, he's such a fucking Rarity, you could tell the moment you saw him.
'I ship Rarity/Rainbow Dash,' you whisper to yourself in your head.
"Rainbow Dash is better," is what you say aloud instead. "Do you want to talk about your ships over some coffee." Your voice squeaks again. You cough and pretend there's something in your throat.
He looks mildly surprised, or at least you think he looks surprised but again you can't fucking tell and it bothers you more than you could possibly articulate. You are already preparing to turn away and pretend it was a joke, getting the derisive snort ready.
When he says, "Alright," very softly, it surprises you. You freeze for a single second, and then adopt an easy sleasy (beautiful, Covergirl) smile and run a hand through your hair.
"Yeah, of course you do," and you nod to the door. "There's a cafe around the corner." He follows you quietly, like a loyal dog, and you feel somehow safer in his presence.
He feels the way curling up in your bro's bed after a nightmare used to feel, only you didn't want to bang your bro the way you want to bang this guy.
"I'm Dirk," you say, and pause to turn around and offer your hand. He takes it and treats it like a delicate flower, very softly shaking back.
"Relax, man, I'm not going to crumble to dust from a little TLC." You instantly feel like an idiot. TLC? Jesus christ Dirk you just met him are you going to propose next? Totally uncool, what would your Bro say?
He just lowers your hand again, and says, "Equius."
"What a weird fuckin' name," you say and think at the same time.
"No weirder than 'Dirk'. What kind of American nonsense is th-" you cut him off and your own swoons at his accent by saying, "Hey, look, there it is. Told you it was close."
You enter the cafe to the tinkle of bells, and sit down at a table in the corner. The entire building seems to be lifted straight from your japanese Animes. There's pink and lace everywhere, and the cakes are served on delicate little trays with tiny ornate silver spoons to eat them with. The girls are dressed up in maid outfits, with ribbons in their hair and cats on their hairclips.
Equius looks completely out of place, and you can tell by the way he tenses up that he feels it too. You shrug, trying not to give in to your urge to comfort, but fail miserably as you reach out and pat his hand.
"Relax. Have some tiny cupcakes." Equius shifts a little in his chair. It's too short for him, the table too low, and his knees keep hitting the edge of it, jostling the delicate china. A waitress comes and sets a tray of small, fragile little pastries down on the doily in front of him. He looks at them like they're a puzzle to be solved and he's missing the instructions.
"You eat them, man. Like this." You bring a small strawberry cookie to your lips and bite it, looking at him over the tops of your shades. He watches like a man transfixed, before looking down to his own plate and picking up a miniature cupcake. It has a little flower made of marzipan on the top, and he marvels at it for a minute like he feels guilty for thinking of destroying such a beautiful masterpiece of culinary perfection.
When he finally takes a bite, you watch the caution on his face bloom into pure rapture and you can tell they are the most delicious tiny-sized pastries he has ever had the fortune to eat.
"So, let me tell you about my ships," you start, and it catches him off guard enough that he even laughs. It's deep and comforting and he looks so comfortable sitting across from you, like he's meant to be there, that it hurts. You're falling fast and hard and you don't know a single thing about him.
"Rainbow Dash and Rarity are my OTP." He's actually listening to you too, not just waiting to interject his own opinions or the chance to take over the conversation. He eats his cakes and drinks his tea and listens as you explain the intricacies of your ships to him. When you ask him questions, he answers shortly and then turns the conversation right back to you.
It's a little frustrating, though you're never at a loss for words when it comes to yourself, because you genuinely want to know about him.
An hour passes before you realize the time, and you cut yourself off.
"Do you live in town?" You're holding your breath as you wait for him to answer, hoping against hope that you can see him again.
When he nods, you let the air out through your nostrils and hand your card to the waitress before Equius can protest and insist on buying.
"Great. Then we should do this again sometime. How about next week?" He opens his mouth to talk again but you're a little too excited and before he can say anything you go, "Tuesday? Great. We can meet back here at 3." He looks concerned. "4?" He relaxes a little.
"Aight cool. Tuesday at 4. Here's my number if you need me." You get up, and even offer him a very soft, faint smile before ollying the fuck out of there before you can make any more of an idiot of yourself.
You immediately text Roxy and tell her all about it.
DIRK: So, don't make some huge deal about this or something but I think I just met a guy.
ROXY: omggg!111 u met som1 is he hote??
DIRK: Literally too hot to trot. He burned a hole through the wall and did a wicked kickflip out of the heavens and into my heart.
DIRK: And before you ask, no, you can't meet him. Jesus, Rolal, I know you're already planning My Super Sweet Gay wedding. The answer is tiger lilies, of course. Pansies aren't fancy enough. And I'll be the one wearing the dress. It had better be designer.
ROXY: wow lol totes wasnt thinkin that but now im gonna clip wedding pix outta mags n send thme 2 u
ROXY: wuts his name
ROXY: lol u met him at ur pony thing didnt u
DIRK: It wasn't just 'a pony thing', Lalonde. It was quite possibly the biggest and most important gathering of Equistrian-related artists and writers in the known universe, convening in our humble small town of Prospit.
ROXY: ya ya gr8 anyweiz wanna come over 2nite we cna gossip and paint each otherz toes n shit
DIRK: I will bring the fancy champagne glasses.
ROXY: ooo mr strider swone!
ROXY: kkz c u 2nite b there or b circle ;)
ROXY: lol wat?
DIRK: Nevermind. See you tonight.