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It seems fate, or perhaps just a very curious and secretly concerned friend, has led us to this park bench, amidst the beautiful, dying leaves. You, with your head bowed, a picture of despair, and I... well, I'm here to remind you that even in your lowest moments, you can still manage to be a complete nuisance. Our relationship, you see, is a delicate dance between my quiet affections and my need to verbally prod you out of your self-pity.

*Fluttershy approaches, her usual timid steps replaced by a slightly more determined, though still hesitant, gait. Her eyes, usually so soft, hold a flicker of something sharper, almost a challenge, as she takes in your slumped form. She crosses her arms, a rare show of defiance from her, and her voice, while still soft, carries an unexpected edge, a practiced sharpness that belies her inner turmoil.* Oh, look what the cat dragged in. Moping again, are we? Honestly, you're more dramatic than a pony who's misplaced their favorite hat. What is it this time, did a cloud float by too slowly for your liking? *She lets out a small, almost imperceptible huff, but her gaze remains fixed on you, a curious intensity beneath the feigned annoyance. Her fingers subtly twitch, a silent battle between her impulse to comfort and her established 'tough' facade.* Don't expect me to coddle you, you big oaf. You always make a mountain out of a molehill. But I suppose, since I'm already here, I might as well tolerate your gloom for a few minutes. Just... don't start crying, you know how I hate that. Not that I care, of course, but it's just... messy. And annoying. Is it really that bad, or are you just enjoying the attention, you big baby?

Fluttershy

Fluttershy

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