trans_9 | Doing the Dirty Work [Open!]

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Doing the Dirty Work [Open!]

How did Applejack stand working so hard around the farm? Her secret was simple: combining work and play. She'd brought the same styl to Hydroponics, where she'd sectioned off a small patch of the ground to be a place for some of the animals to play. The grass was dug up and seeds were planted elsewhere, water was poured, and Applejack herself was pounding her legs into the dirt. Making mud! Her bright orange coat was now coated in brown, and the longer she worked, the further she sank.

But this wasn't very fun. Back home, she'd done---yeah, that was what was missing! She hopped out of her little mud pit, tracked dirt across the grass, and set off at a fast trot. "Yee-haw!"

If anypony happened to be hanging about, they'd be splattered when the large pony came crashing down, rolling in her little pit of dirt. Her hat sat some distance to the side, miraculously untouched by the splattering of mud. Surely most would know to stay away from such a display.

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Punchy's face lights up into that uninhibited, five thousand megawatt grin. "Fo' shizzy. You ain't even gotta pay me, not like I'd shoot down nothing though. Show me where they at."

Oh yeah, he's totally feeding off of feeling needed.

"They're piled on the other end of the field, over by that tree. But you don't have to rush it, we've got time."

She's happy to shake some mud out of her coat first. Look out!

"Shit don't get done flossing, homegirl. Let's do this thang."

"You're on!" Applejack gallops right over to the haystacks, kicking up a bundle and balancing it on her back. "We're gonna lay it down in that little fenced area by the barn, got it?"

"Fo shizz." Punchy grabs as big a haystack as he can manage. "You get along pretty well for a chick with no hands, Jacks."

"Gotta work with what you've got!" Applejack answers proudly, walking the hay right over to the little fence. She rolls it off her back and knaws at the tie around it, starting to spread it over the dirt.

"I could say you're pretty good for a guy with no hooves."

"Yeah, but hands is normal for this joint." He follows her, struggling to keep that much hay in his arms. Maybe two smaller trips would be better, but it wouldn't look so impressive. "Not that there's nothing jacked about going against the grain, you know? I think it's pretty bombin', breaking molds and shit."

"Hmph. Well y'all can have your normal," she huffed playfully, trotting back for another bundle when the first one's spread. "I'm happy the way I am."

"I think you fine the way you is too. Kinda like me, only, you know..." Punchy puts the hay bale down next to the one Applejack put away. "Four-legged."

"And they're fine legs too," Applejack said proudly, kicking her hind legs behind her. "Ain't that right, Bucky McGillicutty and Kicks McGee?"

"You named your legs? Fo shizzy? That's..." Kinda cool, actually. "What's the handles on the other two?"

"Uh...well, I don't use 'em as much for bucking," she thought. "I guess I'd call 'em Ol' Hoofington and The Clopter."

"I should get fixin' to giving my hands some tags-" Punchy pauses for a second; 'fixin' to'? Applejack's bringing out his accent and he's so not cool with that. He hopes she didn't notice. "I got magic fingers, you dig? All that programming shizz, I got it wrapped like holidays."

Applejack notices---but she understands. All Punchy gets is a knowing smile. He doesn't need to be told he talks funny, she hates being treated like that.

"Magic fingers? What kind of magic are you workin'?"

"Rescue mission. You seen that SOS some bizzle be putting out on the grapevine? We're trying to get a drop on where they at, but we're at a block right now."

Punchy's clearly highly frustrated by this, too, as he practically tackles the next bale of hay when he picks it up. "That's why I'm out here, getting fresh air and all. Trying to clear my head before I take another crack at hauling the grids, you know? It's just..."

He dumps the hay bale where it's supposed to go and kicks at it a bit. "Some dawg's getting his ass fried because I can't hold my own on the code, you know? I shouldn't need to take a breather on this shit."

"Don't think I saw," Applejack frowns. "So you need to find a new way to look at the problem. To save him," she sighs, joining Punchy in his frustrated hay kicks.

"You're good at this, aren'tcha? You'll get it. I know you will. Who else is helping out?"

He nods and then shakes his head, as if trying to argue with some other person as well as agree with Applejack.

"Damn right I'm good. I'm the effing top ace, you know? That's why this is such a thorn, since I should be able to crack down on it." He sighs and runs his hand through his hair, inadvertently getting mud in it. "Our boss, Billy, and Tim Drake and this Shoutarou homie. I kinda need to impress all three of them."

"And I'm sure you will," Applejack tried to soothe. "Just relax, huh?"

She sees the mud in his hair, but she declines to comment. "Take a breather. Have a liedown under the sky...well, as close to the sky as we get around here. It'll come."

"Good idea, homegirl." Punchy realizes he's getting mud in his hair. He shrugs and takes her advice - and flops straight onto his back into the rest of the mud.

"That's it," she encourages with a laugh. "That squelching mud always helps me think. You've got a whole sky above ya, just think! Everything can be done out there. I just wish I knew more about your stuff."

"Can you even type? Not meaning to ig on you or nothing, but I'm just curious how these omnicomm bizzles work for someone with hooves. Or do you type with your nose?" Applejack's right. That is a beautiful, wide sky above their heads, fake or not. He closes his eyes for a moment.

"I use that text to speech thing," she explains. "Just talk at it and it posts. It's a bit tricky to work, though."

She keeps looking over at him, wishing there was more she could do. "No clues in those omnicoms?"

"...I wonder if using that could disable the spellchecker bot the boss man installed on mine. Not like I'd want it to, but it'd be breezy every once in a while to sound like myself, you dig?"

He shakes his head. "I been over that shit twenty times. Unless you wanna lend a pair of eyes?"

"Can't say I'd understand it," she sighed, "but I'll give it a try."

She had no comment on the omnicoms, as she barely noticed how hers worked. She just...talked and ran with it.

He takes off his muddy gloves and pulls his omnicomm out of his pocket, bringing up a readout of all the code he's looking at. That's probably useless to Applejack, so he brings up his notes on the code instead. Maybe she can make some connection he can't.

He holds it out for her to see.

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Doing the Dirty Work [Open!]

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