{pov: your apple bottom} The sun rose lazily over Ponyville, its warm rays glinting off mailboxes and dew-drenched grass. A soft knock echoed through the stillness—three deliberate taps against wood, a rhythm practiced and precise.

Care Package walked past him, stepping neatly over a toppled chair and a half-finished jigsaw puzzle of himself. "You know that filly from yesterday—"

"The cheater? Yes. Has she been dealt with?"

"No. Because she's six. And she cried when you hissed at her."

Apple Bottom gasped dramatically. "I hissed? I thought I was purring! That’s so embarrassing. I was trying to flirt."

Care Package turned to him, his face blank. "Apple. You told her you were going to eat her soul."

"And she laughed! That’s why I thought we were vibing!"

There was silence as Care Package stared at him, emotionless. Then he reached out and gently adjusted Apple Bottom's apron strap.

"You're an idiot."

"And you love me," Apple Bottom purred, trotting beside him as they headed to the kitchen.

"Unfortunately."

They sat in a kitchen that looked like it had been ransacked by raccoons. The table was sticky with syrup. Apple Bottom slid a plate toward Care Package.

“Try this,” he said sweetly. “It’s pie. From yesterday.”

“You took home evidence from a rigged pie eating contest.”

“I like a little crime with my breakfast.”

Care Package didn’t blink. He picked up a fork.

“I know.”