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"Oh, don't be such a wimp," Midnight Snack said, fluttering around Moon River's dressing room, trying his hardest not to bump into any of her awards or multitudes of flower arrangements. He always liked looking at all of his friends' many material accomplishments, now and then sneaking a peak at a fan's love letter or two.

He couldn't believe he had managed to be friends with such a glamorous phony as Moon River. He couldn't believe even more that she still wanted to be friends with him after she'd grown into Old Enough and he was still a foal, although part of him suspected lightly that it had something to do with all the milk-and-honey soothing throat lozenges he made her. But mostly, he liked Moon and he wanted her to be happy, and right now, he knew that what would make her happy would be to call that hotshot baseball athlete, whether she admitted it or not. "Just pick up the phone and call him! That's why he gave you his number, isn't it?"

Midnight Snack lifted one of Moon's awards, a crystal thing shaped like an old-timey microphone. It was one of her cooler-looking awards, that was for sure. He set it back down and looked back over at her, grinning impishly. "Aw, come on. He's a big hot-shot athlete, tell him you like his big hot-shot athlete muscles and you want to go out sometime."

Becoming more serious, the little pegasus floated closer to his friend. "Ooooorrr, you could just say that you liked the flowers he sent you that time and that you two should see more of each other."

Midnight Snack sighed, audibly and mightily, and flopped over toward Moon River. He gave her phone a poke with his front hoof. "Or you could, I don't know, call him and see how it goes? I'm sure he remembers you just fine, and if he remembers you, he's definitely interested."

His voice went from aggrieved to warm, smiling encouragingly. "Come on. Just be yourself."

It was all Midnight could do to keep from rolling his eyes. But inside, he felt a little fluttery -- he wanted good things for Moon, regardless of how she could... well... be sometimes, and the past couple of weeks she had really been so much nicer than he remembered her ever being before. She deserved something -- somephony -- nice in return.



Fourseam Fastball picked up the phone on his end, surprised to see a number he did not recognize flash up on the screen.

"Hello, Fourseam Fastball speakin'" he drawled in answer.

Fourseam Fastball broke into a smile that was immediately evident in his voice. "Well, if it isn't Moon River. Pleasure to hear from ya. How ya been?"

Fourseam leaned back in the air, grinning to himself. She sounded like herself and yet not quite, like there was maybe a little flurry of... embarrassment? Excitement? He hoped it was the latter. "I'm just fine, just fine. Bless us, the ballgames are goin' pretty good this time a'year. Arm's pitchin' good, thankfully." He hesitated briefly, an idea popping into his head. "Say, I don't s'pose you'd like to come down and see one sometime? Promise I'd get you a seat good n' far from the dirt." A tone of warm humor enveloped his voice.

A strong stallion like him, huh? Fourseam couldn't help but let out a little chuckle at that. Hearing it out of Moon River's voice certainly made him feel like one, as ... strange as that was. Not that it had to be strange. They did have that moment at the gala. And he had sent her flowers. Maybe they were starting to become friends? Or something else?

No, certainly not something else. Fourseam almost missed her reply trying to get his head back on straight.

"Well, we don't have any cloud seats available just now, but lemme just make you a promise. You get any splash a'dirt on you, and I'll personally pay for the mane-cleanin'. Say, next Saturday night? It's my next start."

"Glad you liked 'em. Knew you'd be a fan of something special." Fourseam said. "An' I'll be lookin' for those bells. Tickets'll be at Will-Call, under my name. See you then."