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That particular garbage can, outside of that particular home, belonged to Espresso Brulee. He was, at the time, enjoying a relaxing, and piping hot, beverage; or at least he was trying to enjoy it before the clatter had started and startled the poor phony into spilling his coffee all over himself and his beautiful scarf.

The outside clatter was quickly joined by an inside yelp. It wasn’t more then second later that the door to said house was opened, and out floated Bru dripping with coffee and looking wholly unsatisfied at having to come out to investigate the source of the noise. “Who is responsible for that racket?”

Upon seeing the babben and her acquisition of his garbage cans as instrumented, an indignant scowl crossed his face. “What do you think you are up to little filly? Shouldn’t you be at home, or attended by some parental figure?” Inside Bru’s head he was tut-tutting the lack of structure that this babben must have in her home life. Adventures and play were acceptable, but disrupting others (or rather the whole neighbourhood) so rudely was not what Bru considered to be a proper vocation for babbens.

“Why, yes, I trying to do bor---“ Bru had to stop himself from finishing his sentence the way the babben had worded it. Did she seriously just talk to him like that? HIM? Bru not accustomed to others being so brazen around him. “I was enjoying myself quite happily until you made a clatter that could wake the dead. Is that what you are trying to do?”

Espresso Brulee winced at the bang of his garbage can once again, but now he was little more irritated by the damage all of that was going to cause, if not send his trash flying out if it persisted. Cautiously he flew a bit closer, half inspecting the little one and half the scratches and dents to the can. "You must have something better to do than destroying property."

“I beg to differ. It’s a vehicle for the removal and storage of waste, rather than leaving it all over the place, or littering. It’s a very important item.” Bru nodded along to statement, agreeing with himself; it’d be a shame if every phony had to walk around garbage all the time.

“But more importantly, how do you know this doesn’t have sentimental value?” Bru teased a little. Of course it didn’t have sentimental value, it was a garbage bin, but was still his property and he preferred his things to be nice and orderly.

At Shrill’s questioning of his fancy-ness, Bru was tempted to tease the young foal a bit more. He lifted the crown off his head, breathed on it and rubbed his hoof against it to remove any smudges, “Oh? You mean this old thing? And my dapper vestments?” Bru was very proud of his garments, especially the crown, not that it has real significant meaning or symbolism, but it did make him feel very regal. “I’m a royalty, I suppose. That’s what it symbolizes anyway.” He was only half teasing now. Totally self-proclaimed and with no legitimacy, Bru declared himself the prince of damn-fine coffee; it didn't mean anything really though. It was more like a uniform for his business.

Still, Bru lowered the crown so that the young filly could take a closer look at a possession the phony cared a bit more about than the bin.

“Yes, indeed young lady, like a ‘Prince or whatever’.” Bru chuckled a little while using the words Shrill did. “I am certainly not a cad or a charlatan. This here,” Bru pointed to his small but tidy stable. “ is my castle. Don't you know the saying? Every phony is the king of their own castle, this one is my own here in Phonyland. Though it doesn’t mean I might not hail from another in a far off land, that you have never heard of.” The brown Pegasus raised his eyes in a waggle.

Bru lightly polished off Shrill X's nose prints from the crown, and perhaps against his better judgement, then set it crown down on top of the young filly's head.

“ Very respectably so.” Bru nodded in approval at the filly’s new look, and her stillness.

“Stay still a minute, don’t go anywhere.” Bru floated away to grab the lid of the trash can, it laid forgotten as it was no longer in use as a musical instrument. Bru had a much more acceptable use for it now. He held up the lid, the inside facing Shrill X. The metal surface was shiny enough that it provided a decent reflection, though the slight curvature of the lid distorted the image somewhat.

Bru laughed himself. It was hard not to laugh at the young filly as she danced about wearing his crown. It was adorable, and a much preferred way for a lady to act than clashing about and making a ruckus. “Well, yes. I suppose marriage would make you a proper princess.”

“But you would not want to marry me, oh my no.” Bru shook his head. “I’m far too old for you.” Even though Bru was not exactly an old phony himself, there was a significant age difference, and he did not want to accidentally promise himself to such a young filly or break her heart. “What you need is a nice young prince to make you a princess. The best way for you to catch one is with a cheery disposition and a quick, lady-like wit. You might just well be on your way, little lady, a smile and laugh like that could enchant any heart that you wish, I’m sure.”

Flabbergasted. That was the only word for it. The little white phony was a brazen one, and Bru had no words for her staking a claim in him. Though she obviously had a fine eye for manes, Bru just looked agog at Shrill X’s strange compliment. But he was pleased that their exchange was over and she was off to entertain herself far away from him and his ears.

“Well, I’ll be…” and it suddenly dawned on the Pegasus that the filly had made off with his precious crown. Quickly, he was after her yelling, “Hey! Come back here, young lady! Thief!”