Sketchy sat for a while at the table, idly listening to the clatter of Salad moving about and sorting out dishes. Presently, however, he heard the soft tinkle of the shop door’s bell. He took a breath, got up from the bench seat, and trotted out from the table.
“Hi!” he began. “You must be Sally’s… friend…” he trailed off, his eyes going wide and his jaw hanging open as he laid eyes upon who it was who had just walked in to the shop.
Stood in the doorway, looking right back at him with searching violet eyes, was Canterlot’s premier strings player and well-known composer, Octavia. There was no mistaking it was her - her long ebony mane hung straight and perfect around her features, her tail mirroring its well-groomed state. The stone grey hue of her coat was interrupted only by the pinkish colour of the treble clef mark adorning her flank. She arched an eyebrow slightly at him.
Love walks in?