We All Have Bad Days (Winter Iris, Open)

[Astalakio]

A chart appeared in front of Betterbones' eyes. It was a line graph, and on it was a series of notes and scribblings, and a green line that started off high up on the bar to the left, and then, in a jagged decent, ended up fairly near the bottom. This was a graph detailing how good his day had been. It was also completely imaginary, and he shook his head to clear it from his vision. Perhaps he would have made a task of putting together a real graph to illustrate this depressing downfall in his day, but the exercise would have been pointless, as it would have simply gotten wet from the rain that was currently pouring down onto his head and fallen apart.

His usually remarkably tall mane was wet and stuck to his head. He hated it when his mane was flat. Sat on the bench, he kicked a hoof sulkily at a pebble, sighed, and wished he could be back home.

Of course, this city had been his home for many years at one point. He had grown up here, met and married the love of his life, raised his daughter, all in Canterlot. So why did he detest the place so much now? It was probably nothing. It was probably just the kind of day he was having - the kind that (literally) dampened one's view on life altogether. The city of Canterlot just happened to be the nearest thing for him to blame it all on.

He suppressed a shiver as the cold water trickled down his back and he reminded himself that his life was good, and that he had a lot to be thankful for.

I'd be extra-thankful, he added with an internal mumble, if every hotel in a ten-mile radius wasn't packed to capacity...

This also explained why the street he was on, which was usually filled with ponies going about their business, was empty. Just him, his bench, the rain, and behind him, a large and decorative fountain that seemed particularly redundant in weather such as this.

The doctor looked up at the sky, scowled at the clouds. He knew they were only there because those blasted pegasi put them there. Who made it their business to go about making it rain, anyway? Why, if he could give them a piece of his mind, he'd... well, he'd...

He'd probably make his point in a reasonable and controlled fashion. Maybe write them a letter of complaint.

Well, everypony has their bad days, right?

[Guest EoLPinkie]

Winter Iris hummed loudly as she trotted gaily down the rain-soaked street, her hooves clopping rhythmically upon the stone. A large parasol was attached to a miniature saddle on her back, and kept her quite dry as she moved along. Normally she wouldn't care, but she'd spent a rather immense period of time preparing her hair today and it wouldn't do to have it all ruined in the weather.

The earth pony had smiled when she'd left the art gallery not long before, with her companions fussing and complaining as they ran off to whatever else they had to do that day. They still couldn't hear the symphony the pegasi put on every time there was a storm. It was this song that Winter now hummed along to, as she'd learned so long ago in Manehattan. There was still a fair amount of time left before she was due at a dinner gala that evening, and she was actually at a loss for how to spend the rest of her afternoon.

"Oh whatever to do?" she sang in her mildly-accented voice, swaying her head and mane happily from side to side. "Perhaps a visit to Mr. C-Note's shop? Maybe the vineyard, I am running low on that rather scrumptious blend they make... Hm?"

She came to a stop, her violet eyes considering the interesting-looking male unicorn sitting dejectedly by a fountain ahead. Such a forlorn figure she'd never seen! At least recently, that was. Putting a polite smile back on her face, the artist lifted her head proudly and walked to stand near the stallion.

"Pardon me sir," she intoned lightly, meeting his gaze directly. "But most ponyfolk here in Canterlot wouldn't be caught with a hoof in a puddle, much less the rain. Is there any particular reason that you're sitting here alone, and may I offer my parasol if it's any comfort?"

[Astalakio]

"Pardon me sir,"

The voice almost startled him, though the approach of the dark-coated mare had registered somewhere in the back of his distracted mind when she had started toward him. Only when she spoke did he realise that she might actually want to interract with him, rather than just pass him by, and hurry back to some hotel or comfortable upper-class clubhouse that she had a place readily reserved in.

He turned his green eyes on her, and saw the following list standing in front of him.

Young mare who was not born in Canterlot.

But has spent some time here recently.

Travels a lot.

Has a modestly successful career as some sort of artist.

Probably in performance.

Silvery-white mane and tail.

Sable-coloured coat.

Violet eyes.

These minor deductions he made in a few seconds, before endeavouring to actually reply. When he did so, he managed a lukewarm smile to go with it.

"It's not by choice, trust me." He told her, stifling another sigh, "Everywhere is packed with ponies trying to get out of this rain, hotels and inns are all booked up, and the owners of any respectable establishment take one look at me and... well..." He cast a glance down at himself, at his wet black tail that lay limp on the bench, dripping drops onto the ground below, "You can imagine..."

A quiet part of him felt sorry that he couldn't offer this kind passer-by some of the usual enthusiasm he would show when meeting a new friend. He wanted to shake her hoof and thank her warmly for her kindness, but he just didn't feel like he could muster it right now.

"Besides," He went on, taking the chance to fling himself back against the bench dramatically and blink at the sky with a sorrowful expression. The rain water got in his eyes and quickly made them sting though, so he topped off this theatrical gesture with an equally dramatic one of laying an arm across his eyes, "The rain is the least of my problems today..."

He let that statement sit for a moment. Perhaps it was a dramatic pause. Perhaps it was just awkward silence. Either way, he seemed to take the stranger up on her offer of sharing her parasol despite what he said, because he virtually slid down off the bench and craned his soaking head so that it (and little else) was safe and dry underneath the shade she offered.

"Thanks." He said, "Though, you see, your parasol is joined to your back, which effectively makes me joined to you too. Now, I assume neither one of us wants to stand about in the rain, so my suggestion is this: you continue to walk to wherever it is you're heading, and I'll try my best to keep my head under this umbrella by following you. How does that sound?" He grinned his most charming trust-me-I'm-a-doctor grin to try and make the concept more appealing than his suggestion did alone.

He wasn't really sure how well this would work, but then, he wasn't sure about anything with this mysterious pony. He hadn't expected anypony in Canterlot to do something as charitable as offer the cover of one's own personal parasol to a bedraggled stranger. His interest would have been piqued by this mare because of this act, if he wasn't too busy feeling sorry for himself at that moment.

[Guest EoLPinkie]

Winter quirked a brow slightly at the stallion's searching look, but didn't push the issue. After all, he was soggy. She likely would be too if in his condition. When he finally spoke, a small smile broke the mare's lips as she listened. He did have a point. This was Canterlot, after all.

"An unfortunate predicament," Winter responded, stifling a chuckle. "Though what can you truly expect from the ponies here? High society through and through; less-than-stellar weather is simply something at which to scoff and snort. You would obviously track water and dirt wherever you happened to settle."

When the unicorn struck a dramatic pose against the stormy sky and mentioned having more problems beyond the evident ones, Winter shifted on her hooves with slight discomfort. How could such a miserable pony have even more on his mind that what had already been said? She simply waited out the uncomfortable silence, listening to the rain drum onto her parasol. Soon enough he ducked his head under its cover, speaking of walking with her wherever she was going.

"Oh, well, I didn't actually have a destination in mind yet," the mare responded with an embarrassed grin, shifting her shoulders so that her friend could fit more of himself under her umbrella. "Although, having met you..." she looked down a familiar lane that was currently obscured by the grey mistiness of solid rain, "I would say my goal now would be to find you some warmth and dryness. This way, if you would!"

She set off at a jaunty trot, watching to make sure she didn't outpace her companion. After all he could be exhausted as well as pathetic. As they moved, Winter stole glances from the corner of her eye at his flank. Were those bones? How unfortunate would it be if she'd offered aid to some kind of gravedigger or ne'er-do-well? Preposterous, she immediately banished the thought. Such baseless fears without knowing the story behind a mark were the height of impoliteness.

"I'm afraid I've completely forgotten my manners," Winter spoke after a short while, raising her voice over the sound of their clicking hooves. "I'm Winter Iris. And may I ask the name of the fine pony whose company I'm keeping today?"

The artist's eyes sparkled with genuine interest and sincerity, if not a spark of amusement and laughter. It wasn't every day there was such an interesting find in the rain, after all.

[Astalakio]

Her charity had been enough of a surprise when she had simply offered for him to trail along beside her in an attempt to keep out of the rain, but now the mysterious mare was actually seeking 'warmth and dryness' for him? Even for somepony who wasn't brought up with the snobbish attitudes of the Canterlot elite, going out of her way to make sure he could settle somewhere out of the rain was a rare and unexpected act of kindness.

As they began off at a trot, Betterbones couldn't help but look at his companion, trying to read on her face, her expression, the reasoning behind her actions. He could tell so much from simply looking at a pony about who they were. To him, a stranger was like an open book waiting to be read and examined and understood. But every now and then he would meet one that, beyond the obvious details, he couldn't quite figure out. That made them a lot more interesting, of course, though it somewhat put him on edge. With others, he knew exactly what he was getting. Sometimes he could even predict their entire half of a conversation (though this was mainly with ponies he had met multiple times), but he was quite unsure in this case. He had thought before that he knew her. Now he wasn't certain.

As he was fruitlessly trying to fathom what she was thinking, Betterbones realised he'd been staring, and turned his eyes toward the slick path ahead that sparkled with the mist of the rain.

"Thank you." He said, his tone a little more even than it had been, as though his dramatic problems had been forgotten for a moment while he was distracted by his interesting new friend.

Winter Iris was her name. She enquired as to his, and he hesitated, confronted with the same issue he always had when meeting somepony new outside of the practice. He was never sure whether to introduce himself as 'Dr. Betterbones', or just 'Betterbones'. Technically, the title was part of his name, but he always thought it just sounded like showing off to say it like that. It was an issue he had often grappled with. There was no rulebook for doctors on questions like these.

"Betterbones." He smiled politely in return, "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Ms. Iris."

It wasn't like he was lying by omitting details, he justified to himself, but given that he usually understood everything about a pony upon meeting them, and Winter Iris presented him with a questionmark, he felt that he needed to keep the playing field even by reserving something about himself. It was insurance. It was, he knew, insecurity on his part. He also knew that he was overanalysing the conversation, but this was the curse of a gifted mind.

"I perceive you're into the performing arts." He noted casually as they walked, "Are you big in Canterlot? I don't spend a lot of time here anymore, so I wouldn't know... but imagine that, if I was rescued by a celebrity and didn't even know it!"

[Guest EoLPinkie]

Winter Iris continued to keep pace with her stallion friend, doing her best to keep at least his head and shoulders under cover. She figured that she hadn't been the only one staring and pondering about the strange meeting. She remembered that the unicorn had mentioned more problems than the obvious, but she refrained from bringing it up again for the time being. She would wait until they were at least inside.

After a short amount of time, the male mentioned that his name was Betterbones. It certainly fit the mark on his flank, anyway. Perhaps a physician or a chiropractor. He certainly had the intuition of a practitioner, as his next question was about her artistic career. She was admittedly a little taken aback, and her eyes showed her surprise.

"A brilliant deduction!" she exclaimed, regaining her composure. "I'm not as well-known as Sapphire Shores or some of the others, but I do have some fans that follow my shows. I wouldn't call myself a celebrity, to be sure!" She shrugged, then grinned slightly at Betterbones. "So you were a bit of a Canterlot regular yourself then? May I ask what you do, Mr. Betterbones? If I'm not being too forward or crossing any lines, that is. Forgive me if I am."

As their conversation continued, Winter arrived at her destination and cast her gaze skyward. Amethyst Towers, her home when she wasn't traveling. She knew most of the other ponies that lived in the monolithic white marble structure, but they mostly kept to themselves and their cliques. Not that it bothered the mare. With a slight shake of her mane she led the way into the spacious lobby, her hoof-falls sounding sharply on the stone as she stepped out of the rain.

Candles sat in a crystalline chandelier hanging from the high ceiling, as well as from occasional sconces along the walls and pillars. Several stairwells led away from the central area, spiraling upward toward the living spaces of the various occupants. Luxurious rugs were placed around the room, and around each one was a low table and a set of chairs and loveseats for conversations. A stone hearth dominated a far wall, complete with a blazing fire and high-backed chairs, and a concierge desk was situated halfway across the lobby.

A smartly-dressed pegasus with a perfectly-maintained mustache approached the pair, a professional smile on his face.

"Miss Iris, so good to see you. I trust your tour went well. May I be of assistance to you and your..." he looked Betterbones up and down, "acquaintance?"

"We'll be fine, Mr. Pennyfeathers, thank you," Winter responded, ignoring his disdained look at the water dripping from them and onto the tile.

She led her unicorn friend over to the fireplace and tossed her parasol onto the hearth with a practiced buck of her hips, shaking any clinging rainwater free from her coat afterwards.

"Welcome to my home!" she said amiably, smiling nervously and indicating the couch next to the fire. "You may warm yourself here if you like, or we can go to my apartment if you'd rather avoid Mr. Pennyfeathers and his... sunny disposition. I wouldn't blame you."

[Astalakio]

The way Winter Iris' eyes widened a bit with shock after he had noted his deduction about her profession made Betterbones smile. It was always the way, whenever he showed off his nack for figuring ponies out with seemingly nothing to go on, they would usually give a little exclamation, or a questioning look. The reactions not only told him more about the ponies in question (and defined his opinion on them), but served as one of life's unique pleasures. Just for a moment, he felt completely in control of the situation, in control of everything in his life. Bringing himself back down to earth again was a much harder skill to learn than the making of the deductions themselves, but this skill he had practised over the years too. Modesty was a virtue.

Pleased to hear he was correct, though not at all surprised, he shrugged as they walked.

"Thank you," He said, "But it was hardly brilliant. It was obvious to me that you were an artist for two main reasons. Firstly, your cutie mark is a dead giveaway, being some manner of artistic composition in itself. Secondly, you can always tell the artists in a city, because when it rains like this, everypony rushes indoors, except for the artists. They dash to get outside. Going for a walk in the rain is such an artistic past time. It takes an appreciation for nature's beauty to enjoy the atmosphere that comes with the rain... everypony else simply sees it as water falling out of the sky. Which it is, of course."

He stopped and looked to the side, as if finished with his explanation, but then he continued, as if forced by some invisible compulsion to go on.

"I knew you were a performing artist of some kind because, quite simply, no other kind of artist has any reason to care so much about their appearance, and clearly you do. The way your mane is styled, for example, it's the height of fashion right now, I've seen two other mares with similar mane styles since I've been in the city. Don't worry," He added quickly, with a wink, "You wear it the best by far. Noticing this about your mane also tipped me off to another fact: that you're not new in Canterlot. You've been here for long enough to know what's in style and what isn't. You're also familiar enough with the local streets to go wandering about alone in the rain, which means you've been here before.

On the other hoof, I don't suspect that you were raised here in Canterlot, and that is for two reasons. Firstly, you are an earth pony, and an earth pony family thriving in Canterlot is a rarity in itself. Secondly, I don't know anypony with a pure Canterlot upbringing who would go out of their way to help out a random stranger in a rainstorm.

So you weren't raised in Canterlot, this much is obvious. You've travelled around a lot too, possibly as part of your career. This I can tell from your voice, your accent. At first I had trouble placing it, and then I realised it was because it's a mix. It's subtle, but you've picked up slight tinges of dialects from the places you've been. As for exact places... I'm thinking..." He squinted for a moment, as if still listening to her voice, or maybe focusing in on a memory stored in his brain, "Stalliongrad? So so far we know she's a travelling performing artist not originally from Canterlot.

Successful, though? Yes, modestly, I'd say. I didn't recognise your face, and even I would recognise the face of somepony like Saphire Shores. No offense. Then again, you've enjoyed some success, looking at your umbrella. This kind of accessory doesn't come cheap, I can tell by the craftsmanship. See how they've stitched the material together at the seam there?" He nodded toward the inside rim of the umbrella that hung over him, "They've gone over it twice for security. That's expensive work. The fact that you're well off, if there was any doubt, was certified just now by this..."

He joined his companion in glancing up at Amythist Towers, the magnificent building at which they had finally arrived.

"I think that's everything. Oh... blast..." He frowned a little, and looked to Winter Iris as they stepped inside, "I'm showing off again, aren't I? Sorry. I'm told that I shouldn't do that. It's a weakness with me."

After sharing an awkward moment with Mr. Pennyfeathers, who clearly did not appreciate Ms. Iris' unruly guest (Betterbones wondered how often his friend brought in strays off the street. He didn't expect it was that often, or they'd probably ask her to leave), Betterbones turned toward the roaring fireplace, trailing after his host. She offered to take him to her appartment, away from the scorning gaze of Pennyfeathers, but he shook his head immediately, careful not to flick water at her.

"Oh no, just here will be marvelous, I'm sure." He replied, and went to sit down. He didn't take a place on the fancy looking couch she had indicated toward though, preferring simply to plonk himself down on the rug in front of the fireplace. He didn't want to get the furniture wet after all. The last thing he desired was to incur the wrath of any prying pegasi.

"I really can't thank you enough for your hospitality, you know, I'm feeling better already." He smiled. It was true, the problems that only moments ago he was wailing and flailing over now seemed a little more trivial. The fact of the matter was that they probably were trivial. He did like to blow things out of proportion. It was another weakness.

"And to answer your earlier question, I'm a medical doctor." He chirped, "I wouldn't say it was 'crossing any lines'," he added, looking amused, and perhaps the tiniest bit smug, "Given how much I know about you. In fact I think I owe you a few tidbits of information just to even things out."

((OOC: Sorry for shoving all that into a passing moment, but it seemed like the best place to get it out in the open >.<))

[Guest EoLPinkie]

Winter Iris settled on the rug next to her companion, smiling at the wildly dancing flames before turning to Betterbones. His perception was impressive, to be sure, but his comments also implied a few things about him as well. It was interesting how that worked. A younger Winter might have been disgruntled, even hostile at the focused analysis, but the current incarnation found it rather entertaining.

"You're quite welcome," she answered when the conversation paused. "You must be somewhat well-traveled yourself, and I wouldn't say you were 'showing off.' I would consider such verbose observations to be an occupational hazard for doctors like yourself, wouldn't you agree? Oh and thank you..." she added more quietly, blushing. "For the compliment on my mane. It's not the easiest style to accomplish without magic."

As Betterbones seemed to focus on drying and enjoying the warmth of the fire for the moment, Winter stood and trotted to a refreshment table near the concierge station, pointedly ignoring the glare Mr. Pennyfeathers was giving her. She placed a pot, cups, bowls, spoons, and various creams and sugars upon a silver tray before carefully gripping it in her teeth. She moved cautiously to place the platter on the coffee table behind her guest before returning to their anxious host.

"Mr. Pennyfeathers, a warm blanket if you would be so kind," she requested politely, flicking her mane back into place and standing patiently.

"Ms. Iris, I feel I must remind you of Amethyst Towers' policy on... non-locals," the pegasus finished lamely. "He's not a resident nor a paying guest, and... And..." He scrunched up his face before loosing the tirade that had been bursting to get out. "He's filthy, bedraggled, wet, unseemly, and don't even get me started on his sense of stylings!"

"Mr. Avery Pennyfeathers the Fourth!" Winter Iris admonished in a raised tone, all humor gone from her features now. "Remember yourself and your station! Though it is terribly impolite of me to do so, your rudeness has forced me to remind you of just how much I pay you and your staff to stay here. Whom I bring home with me is none of your concern, and should you like to continue enjoying your admittedly lofty and social position here I would highly recommend that you fetch my blanket and hold your tongue!"

The winged pony stood in a shock with an aghast look on his face for a moment, then turned and stepped into a room beyond and brought forth a woven wrap. Winter accepted it with an apologetic but firm frown before moving to join Betterbones at the hearth once more. Setting the blanket next to him in a folded pile, she moved back to the tea tray and began preparing cups for the both of them.

"I would love to hear anything about yourself that you're willing to share," she started, her voice somewhat muffled from gripping spoons and bowls. "And you must have been to Stalliongrad or known someone from the area! I should like to hear that story, but before we go any further how would you like your tea?"

[Astalakio]

Betterbones was taking a moment to enjoy the warmth of the fire while his gracious host went to fetch some tea, and then she disappeared again. Sitting in the still and quiet, the doctor closed his eyes and listened to the sound of the rain outside, barely audible even from here on the ground floor - the walls had probably been designed to keep such sounds out, but he could hear it. Rain always sounded so peaceful when one wasn't being drenched with it.

His ears twitched as he heard another sound. It was the sound of voices - Ms. Iris talking with Pennyfeathers again. They were across the room and their voices were hushed, but going from the occasional snatches of words and the tones being passed back and forth, he was quite certain that he was the subject of conversation. He hated to think that he was becoming in indirect source of angst for the pony who had been so kind to him. He felt the urge to just get up and leave to save her the hassle... but on the other hoof he was just starting to get warm, and he really didn't want to go back out in the rain.

He felt like a stray dog, and the sensation brought a vivid memory back to him about an incident that had ocured with his sister and parents and a similarly stray and wet canine when they were only children. He had thought he had forgotten this particular memory entirely, but now that it had sprung back into his mind, it was as clear as day. He couldn't help but smile as the long-past images of his sister and the puppy she had found began to fade into sight.

"I would love to hear anything about yourself that you're willing to share,"

The voice, soft though it was, startled him from his thoughts and he opened his eyes, realising that Winter Iris had returned again. He also noticed the folded blanket by his side. He hadn't even known when she put it there. It was amazing how little somepony so observant could notice when he was absorbed in a memory.

She asked him how he liked his tea, and he glanced over at the coffee table to see what the options were, doing a comic double-take when he saw the extensive array of tea-related things that had been brought over.

"I never knew there was more than one kind of sugar..." He muttered to himself, blinking at the little cups that had been lined up next to the teapot.

"Two sugars and no cream would be fantastic, if you don't mind," He replied eventually, wondering if his new upper-class friends thought less of ponies who didn't like cream in their tea, "I really don't mind which kind of sugar, though, just, erm, pick your favourite?"

He turned his attention to the blanket beside him. He didn't know any magic for getting oneself dry when wet (a spell like that would be almost completely useless in the medical industry, after all), but a dry towel would do wonders. His horn flared with a dim green light and the blanket unfolded, rose up into the air and then wrapped itself around him.

At this point Betterbones realised that the blanket had actually been pre-warmed for him, and although he wished to voice his gratitude about this fact, he instead made a singular noise of pleasure that sounded something like "Durrrrr...", and with drooping eyelids and a satisfied smile snuggled back into the blanket and wrapped it tightly around him. He decided he was not going to offer to leave so as not to cause trouble for Ms. Iris. He felt bad about it, but his willpower had just been sapped by the feel of warm fabric against his cold skin.

"Stalliongrad?" He responded then, eyeing a strand of his wet black hair that was dangling teasingly in front of his eyes, "It's an interesting story. Not one of my favourites, probably because I'm not the one who saves the day in it. If I recall correctly, and I do... it involved a hermit, a dragon, a threatening exaction, and an assembled team of Equestria's finest medical and veterinary practitioners. And me." He added, "Of course I am one of the finest medical practitioners now, but at the time, I was only a hip young medical intern. You should have seen my hair back then..." He chuckled, as he started the process of half-heartedly drying his mane with his blanket, which was difficult as he seemed determined to keep it fully wrapped around his body at the same time.

[Guest EoLPinkie]

Winter Iris stood idly patient, watching with amusement as Betterbones sat absorbed in some reverie or daydream. When she had finally spoken, the doctor had started slightly and noticed the blanket that she'd placed next to him. As he used his unicorn magic to wrap himself in warmth, his hostess listened to his preferred method of tea preparation and moved to oblige.

One lump, two lumps of white sugar, ploosh ploosh! Winter carefully mixed them into the tea with a silver spoon, slowing guiding the whirlpool of light-colored liquid into a spiraling delight of ripples and steam. As it settled, she set about fixing her own cup: jasmine and white lotus, a lump of the same white sugar, and a dash of cream topped with a sprinkle of cinnamon. She had prepared this particular concoction so many times before that it had become second nature.

The rain outside intensified, and thunder rumbled through the lobby, rattling the crystals on the chandelier above into a cacophony of tinkling bells while the candles about the room danced wildly upon their wicks. Winter Iris wasn't startled, quite the opposite: she smiled and set Betterbones's smouldering cup onto a saucer before stepping in front of him and kneeling to set the ensemble onto the stone hearth within easy reach.

After giving her companion what she thought was ample time to warm up and relax, during which she quietly leaned down to sip at her own tea, she cleared her throat inconspicuously.

"By Celestia that sounds like a most interesting tale, Doctor," the earth pony said with a smile. "I'm sure its all the more riveting when told by someone who has actually met a dragon. I should love to hear it."

[Astalakio]

The doctor paused pointedly in the drying of his mane to look at Winter Iris, apparently deciding whether or not to tell her the story as she desired. It really was the least he could do in exchange for the warmth and comfort she had so graciously supplied him with.

"Well," He began, "I don't know how many years ago it was now... but I can remember where it all started, like it was yesterday. I was at the hospital here in Canterlot where I was doing my internship, and it was stormy, that day, I remember - much like today, in fact. Anyway, while the rain was pouring down the windows and the fireplace in the study room was only just flickering out enough light to keep the shivers at bay, I was reading up on one of my favourite medical journals. I had just gotten to the 'Particularly Peculiar Spells of the Month' section when my mentor, Professor Van Hoofclip, burst into the room...

***

"Grab your coat, Betterbones. We're leaving." The old stallion barked as he stole into the room, the open door behind him letting in a vicious breeze that clipped at Betterbones' ears and made him shudder and pull the blanket that he had stolen from a vacant bed tighter around his shoulders.

"I don't have a coat..." Betterbones reminded him.

"Well then get my coat!" The professor retorted loudly. He never seemed to have any sense of volume control, "We're going to Stalliongrad."

"Stalliongrad?" Betterbones echoed, "Why? Now? What's in Stalliongrad?"

"You ask too many questions!"

"I'm an intern!"

"And why am I still not wearing my coat?!"

The younger stallion grumbled, crossed the room and half-heartedly helped the professor into his lab coat. He could easily do it himself, he was just so darned lazy...

"Follow!" The professor commanded grandly, and with that he whisked himself out of the room and slammed the door. Betterbones spared a moment to look forlornly back at the fireplace, before sinking his head dejectedly and following his mentor out into the rain.

"A dragon?!"

"That's what I said, wasn't it? A fully grown specimen, too, I believe. Why must you echo everything I say?"

Betterbones stared at his mentor incredulously, though it was difficult enough to keep his eyes on one spot as the carriage they were in was bouncing and rocking about so violently. He could barely hear what Van Hoofclip was saying over the smattering of the rain on the thin roof just above their heads.

"But... what in Equestria is a fully-grown dragon doing in the middle of Stalliongrad?!" The intern queried, ignoring the pained look that passed over his teacher's face at being asked yet another question.

"There's an old hermit who lives in the wilderness beyond Stalliongrad. Nobody ever saw him-"

"Well, he's a hermit..."

"Don't be smart. Do you want me to explain, or not?!"

"Sorry, Professor. Go on."

"Nobody ever saw him," Van Hoofclip continued, glaring at his student intently, "But there were rumours that he collected strange creatures of all kinds. All shapes and sizes and species and breeds, the more dangerous, the better. Well, Celestia knows how, but some day of late he's managed to get his hooves on a fully-grown dragon."

"I didn't think dragons could be domesticated." Betterbones frowned.

"They can't." The professor replied shortly, "But this hermit seems to have found a way to control him. The problem is, this dragon is sick."

"A sick dragon..." Betterbones muttered, becoming more and more sure by the moment that this whole tale was a ridiculous joke being played on him. It wouldn't be the first time Van Hoofclip did something like this for his own amusement.

"This hermit is many things, as I gather, but he's no doctor. He had no idea what was wrong with his new pet, and so he did the logical thing: he brought it into Stalliongrad...

***

Betterbones paused for a moment, either for dramatic effect or to observe Winter Iris' reaction to his tale so far. He was also, in fact, leaving room for questions, but it was possible she wouldn't have any, in which case he would go on. Using his horn to levitate his tea cup, he brought it to his mouth and sipped from it as politely as he could, looking wisely contemplative (he believed) as he did so.

[Guest EoLPinkie]

Winter Iris began listening to the story seemingly placidly, though her focused gaze betrayed her immense interest in the tale being woven before her. She hadn't shared this particular fact, but it was one of her favorite pastimes to read next to the fire with a storm outside. That was, if she wasn't out enjoying the rain herself. It was even better when somepony else was actually telling the story!

The earth pony did her best to be a model audience, nodding in the right places and gasping when the reason for Betterbones's past journey was revealed. She lowered her cup, the sip she was about to partake forgotten for the moment. A dragon had actually been in Stalliongrad? How in Luna's stars...

Guilt chose that moment to flit at the edges of her mind. Either this had occurred when she had been absorbed in her selfish travels as an older filly, or she had been too young to remember it. Either way, it had been far too long since she'd visited her chilled home. She made a mental note to rectify that as soon as possible.

"It seems many mentors would do things that we, at the time, don't understand," Winter said carefully, not wanting to offend her new friend. "Although I'm sure that Dr. Van Hoofclip had good reason to act the way he did. Perhaps it was to prepare you for... impatient patients?" With a small smile at her weak joke, the mare shook her head in a manner that caused her silvery locks to wash over her face in cascading waves, a motion that had become subconcious in her career. "Forgive my humor, please do go on. This is most enthralling, doctor."

[Astalakio]

It was curious that Winter Iris had chosen to pick on the Professor as her point of interest in the story. He had known the old fellow for so long that, in his depiction of how he was, Betterbones didn't even consider that other ponies might find his attitude a little off.

"Oh, I understood him perfectly." He replied to her point, "And he understood me. It's why, for so many years, he was the only mentor I could work with, and I was the only intern he would work with. Yes, he would throw insults and scathing remarks at me and I would laugh at him and mutter things about him when I thought he wasn't listening, and the two of us were a perfect team for many years..." His words trailed off again, and it was almost visible that one thought or another interrupted his train of thought and caused his sentence to come to an end. When he snapped out of it, he shook his head (which, thankfully, was now mostly dry) and took another sip of tea.

"This hermit, with his dragon, had practically invaded the streets of Stalliongrad..." He continued, as Winter prompted him to go on, "At first the officials demanded that he leave at once, but it became very clear, very quickly, that neither the pony or his dragon was going to leave without getting what they wanted...

***

"Treatment, of course." Van Hoofclip explained.

"For the dragon..." The intern nodded, understanding now where the story was heading, able to fill in the rest of the gaps leading up to this moment, "But why would there be a doctor in Stalliongrad who knows how to treat a sick dragon?"

"Why indeed. That's why the doctors and veterinarians in the city put out a call for assistance this afternoon, asking for the best medical practitioners in every available field to come galloping off to that blasted freezing city to go and save their flanks from certain destruction!"

Betterbones noted the scorn in his tone, like the older stallion was irritated by all this, but he knew him well enough at this point to see that he was really excited by this quickly unfolding adventure before them.

"So unless we can cure this dragon of whatever ails it, this hermit is planning to let the creature go on a rampage across the city."

"That's pretty much the sum of it, yes." Van Hoofclip grumbled, and then he folded his arms and leaned back into the corner of the carriage in an expression that meant that the briefing was over, and that any further questions would be met with no reply. So although Betterbones wanted more than anything to ask about the details, the symptoms, the other doctors that they would meet, he instead had to content himself with staring out the window of the carriage with wide, excited eyes, and daydreaming about what might await them in the great city of Stalliongrad.

Cold. Cold and ice and snow, as it happened, were awaiting them. The only thing less bearable than the temperature that gave Betterbones a shock to the system when he finally stepped out of the carriage was the fact that he knew Van Hoofclip wouldn't stop moaning about it until they were miles away once again.

"Snow..." The older pony mumbled as he joined his assistant, "The most ludicrous of all forms of precipitation..."

The idea that the professor had taken the time to sit down and make an ordered list of how ludicrous each form of precipitation was was enough to bring a smile to Betterbones' face, at least.

"When you're done grinning like a moron, we'll go on inside."

"Yes sir, lead the way."

Once inside the city's biggest hospital, the two medical ponies were met by a congregation of other practitioners, all of whom were chatting and muttering to one another, gathered in little clusters of three and four about the room, which was a round white space with a tall ceiling. One of the chatting ponies, who had a long beard and glasses, saw Van Hoofclip and Betterbones when they entered, and immediately broke off his conversation to come and greet them.

"Van Hoofclip, my old friend!" The ancient looking stallion cried joyously, "You're late you know. Everypony else has already arrived!"

"I came here from Canterlot, Tomes, what do you want from me? Now, what is this, a social gathering? Where is this supposed dragon, hm?!"

The pony named Tomes chuckled at the grumpy professor, and after pointing the way to an adjoining room, turned his attention to Betterbones.

"And you must be the plucky young assistant I've heard so much about!" He addressed him cheerily, nudging his spectacles up his snout where they began to slip down, "My name is Dusty Tomes, it's a pleasure to meet you at last."

"You've... heard of me? You mean the professor told you about me?" Betterbones enquired, suspicious about this idea in itself.

"Well..." Tomes hesitated, "He doesn't talk about anypony other than his patients, really, so the fact that he even mentioned that he was bringing an intern along counts as talking all about you, in his terms." He grinned helpfully.

"In his terms." Betterbones echoed fondly, deciding that he liked Dusty Tomes. He recognised in him a kindred spirit who had been forced to deal in some way or other with Van Hooflcip for a long period of time. Considering that fact, he seemed surprisingly well adjusted.

"Well then," Betterbones said, gathering himself and putting on the most professional, impressive face he could muster, "Let's see this supposed dragon of yours!"

"Yes yes," Tomes chuckled again, exactly as he had at Van Hooflcip, "Right this way, Junior."

He then led Betterbones to a small door, which he opened to allow him access. Betterbones smoothed his mane back with his hooves, pushed his chin into the air and walked through.

Before he even registered the kind of room he found himself in, a roaring burst of yellow fire was headed straight at him, and, with a gasp that came out like a squeak, he threw himself to the ground as the scorching heat that would have burned him to a crisp bounced instead off the stone wall behind him...

***

"It even singed my poor mane a little..." The doctor pouted at the recollection, "Do you know how unsympathetic the world's best medical doctors are about other ponies' manes? Very, that's how. That was the first thing I learned in Stalliongrad, I think. Unless something's broken or bruised, they don't want to know!"

He sipped his tea again. It was important to make time for tea-sipping, otherwise he knew he would get absorbed in the telling of his own story and forget to drink, and nopony liked cold tea. Nopony that he had met, anyway.