"How could one not?" "By being a gay stallion, straight mare, or pony of different tastes," Azrael replied simply.
Rain blinked in annoyed confusion. "Um... okay?" Nightshade chuckled. "They're flirting, Az. Way to miss the signals." "You can see it from space," Cannonball agreed.
Azrael nodded. "I know." Navaja chuckled. "I think somepony is upset he hasn't had a proper stallion in a decade." "Please don't psychoanalyse me. That's Skydust's job."
Nightshade laughed. "Well, at this point, it'd technically be necro..." "Shady! Inappropriate!" Cannonball scolded. "Right. Sorry." Rain sighed. "Navaja, would you care to join me up on deck?"
The two were soon up on the deck of the airship. The air was cold, and the only sounds were the faint hum of the engines and the slight creaking of the wires that held the airbag overhead. "You were impressive out there." Rain said. "I've never seen her have that much trouble against a pony."
Navaja chuckled, looking up at the sky. "Well, I... did cheat a little bit. Manticore mace probably wasn't fair."
"One of the first things a merc learns is that there's no such thing as 'fair,'" she replied, slightly saddened by the thought. "We've all had to do some pretty terrible things to make sure we get to go home alive. It's the reality of the job. I'm sure you know what I mean."
"Sí..." He sighed, pulling his hood up to hide his expression. "I think back and wonder. I've taken over one hundred targets. And even more ponies like pesky bodyguards. How many ponies have I killed who weren't evil, but just doing their jobs? I tell myself it's for the greater good. But is it really worth it?"
"That's something only you can decide." She sighed. "I wonder the same thing, though. I try to avoid it, but I've taken life, too. Not sure they always deserve it, but when it's them or me..." her voice trailed off. "In the end, all we can do is live our lives as best we can, and hope that the good we do will somehow outweigh the evil."
"You do something I can't, though." He turned to face her, saddened by his earlier thoughts. "You're el médico... a doctor. You save lives. My only knowledge in anatomy is... where to cut for best blood loss."
"A cold comfort," she replied. "But a comfort nonetheless." She stared over the rail at the clouds drifting lazily below them. "So, how does one become an assassin, anyway? It's not exactly a job you'd find in the Help Wanted ads."
"Well, either we find you, or you're like me: born into the job. Trained from foalhood, like the ancient griffon soldiers." He turned and leaned back against the railing, gazing up to the sky.
"Get a job with the Equestrian Revenue Service?" she chuckled slightly at her own joke. "I don't know, really. But with the way you move, I'd bet you'd be a heck of a dancer."
"Really." She grinned, then suddenly ran below deck. She returned a few moments later with a battered old record player. She dropped the needle on the record, and a slightly scratchy tango started playing. She extended a hoof to Navaja. "Humor me, will you?"
