Tabby pushed through the clinic's front door and paused on the sidewalk. The interview was over. She'd gotten the job.

  She still wasn't sure how that had happened.

  Focus on the positive, she told herself. You successfully assisted in surgery. You didn't summon any demons. You only handed him one wrong document.

  She started walking toward the hospital, her hooves clicking against the pavement. In downtown Misty Hollow, life was in full swing—a line forming outside the SSSS for after-work ice cream, and ponies (and the occasional Fuzziwug) hurrying through errands before dinner.

  Tabby’s mind kept circling back to the interview.

  Specifically, to Dr. Thomas Fairfax.

  Darnit.

  She'd noticed things--professional things, obviously. His precise movements during the surgery, the way he'd handled the instruments with that calm, methodical efficiency. The slight furrow of concentration when he'd reviewed her resume—

  Stop.

  Tabby nudged her glasses up and walked faster. She was only wearing the stupid things because it had been an interview and they made her look smarter. She’d never wear them to work again.

  It wasn't like she'd been assessing him. She'd just... noticed his posture. His well-kept mane. The way he'd stroked that kitten so absentmindedly, like it was the most natural thing in the world. The faint hint of a smile when she'd explained the "no flies on me" expression.

  Great. Just great.

  He was attractive. Fine. She could admit that to herself. He was tall, composed, and probably the kind of stallion who never summoned demons while making brownies--the kind who had his life together. He probably already had a girlfriend.

  Girlfriend? Where had that thought come from?

  You are here for a job, she reminded herself firmly. Focus on vet stuff. Not... swooning.

  She groaned internally. Swooning. What was she, twelve?

  She'd done this before—gotten flustered around "medical types." Dr. Gordon had been charming and manipulative. Then there was Toby, who was sweet and earnest, and his attention had been flattering at a low point in her life.

  Thomas was different, though. He'd looked at her like she was a puzzle he couldn't quite solve. Like he was genuinely trying to figure out if she was competent or completely unhinged.

  Probably both, Tabby thought wryly.

  She'd rambled about brownies and demons. She'd handed him an apology letter to Chief Kekithar. She'd argued with him about magic and called him a sell-out to his face.

  And he'd hired her anyway.

  Because you're qualified, she thought. Because you know what you're doing in an operating room, even if you can't explain a resume without sounding like a lunatic.

  But there was that moment when he'd said she had "potential." The way he'd studied her after the surgery, thoughtful and considering. Like maybe he saw something beyond the chaos.

  Don't read into it, she warned herself. He certainly did not like her--she remembered the way he'd looked at her when she'd challenged him about giving up magic. Then there had been that uncomfortable pause, like she'd hit something he didn't want to examine too closely. She'd been cruel to bring it up.

  You were nervous, she rationalized. You get defensive when you're nervous. It's fine. He probably forgot about it already. Except she didn't think he had.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Tabby crossed the street toward the hospital, her stomach doing an annoying flutter thing that she absolutely did not have time for.

  You are going to show up tomorrow at eight. Or thereabouts, she told herself firmly. You are going to be professional. You are going to focus on learning. You are NOT going to stare at his mane. Or his eyes.

  She was definitely going to make a fool of herself.

  # # #

  The cafeteria bustled around them—staff grabbing quick dinners over breaks, visitors queuing at the registers, someone dropping a tray with a clatter. Tabby sat across from Toby with an untouched sandwich in front of her, gazing off into the distance at the menu board which was surely not that interesting.

  Toby watched her over the rim of his coffee mug, his expression carefully neutral.

  "I got a new job," Tabby announced after what was probably an inappropriately long silence.

  Toby blinked, lowering his mug. "Oh. I thought you liked working with Tiny."

  "He kicked me out." Tabby picked aggressively at her bread crust. "Self-growth or something stupid like that."

  "Ah." Toby took a sip of coffee. "So what will you be doing?"

  "Just a lackey at the new vet clinic."

  "You'll do well," Toby said with a smile.

  "I guess," Tabby said, frowning slightly.

  Toby set his mug down, studying her. "What was the interview like?"

  "Fine. Weird. I told him about the brownie demon thing."

  "Did you explain that it was a one-time occurrence?"

  "It wasn't, though."

  Toby rubbed his forehead. "Right. Of course." He paused. "So when do you start?"

  "Tomorrow. Eight o'clock."

  Toby almost smiled. "I’m sure."

  Tabby finally looked up at him, and Toby caught something flickering across her face—distraction, maybe worry. Something she wasn't saying.

  "Are you nervous about the new job?" he asked carefully.

  She shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. It's just... different from Tiny's clinic."

  "Different how?"

  "More structured. Professional. He's very..." She trailed off, making a vague gesture.

  "Very what?" Toby prompted.

  "What?"

  "You said he's very... and then stopped."

  "Oh. I don't know. Competent, I guess. Organized." She picked at the sandwich. "He has a really nice clock."

  Toby frowned slightly. That was an odd detail to fixate on. "A clock."

  "Mid-century modern. Atomic starburst design."

  "...Right."

  Silence fell again. Tabby stared at her sandwich as she picked off the crust. Toby stared at Tabby.

  "Did something happen during the interview?" he asked finally.

  "No. Well, we did surgery on an Abyssinian. That went fine. Better than fine, actually—I think that's why he hired me."

  "That's good."

  "Yeah."

  More silence.

  Toby cleared his throat. "I had a patient today who came in with seasonal allergies."

  "Mm-hmm," Tabby said, narrowing her eyes at the sandwich.

  "Turned out she'd been deliberately exposing herself to pollen to build immunity."

  "That's something."

  "Then her husband arrived and claimed the pollen was actually sentient and following them."

  "Huh," Tabby said absently.

  Toby paused. Actually, that probably wasn't too implausible for Tabby. Maybe it had been a bad test. But he knew her mind was wandering. He set his mug down with a deliberate clink.

  Tabby blinked and looked up. "What?"

  "You're not listening to a word I'm saying."

  "Yes, I am! You said something about pollen."

  "I made up the sentient pollen part."

  "Oh." She looked down at her sandwich. "Sorry."

  Toby wasn't sure what was going on with this new job, but Tabby was being strange about it. He didn't know enough about this new situation to figure out her headspace, and that troubled him.

  "Tabby," he started carefully.

  She finally looked up. "What?"

  "You seem distracted."

  She shrugged. "I'm just wrapping my head around this new job. It's a big change."

  "Is that all?"

  "What else would there be?"

  Toby studied her for a long moment, but she'd already looked away again, smashing her bread crust into a paste with focused intensity.

  Maybe that's all it was--new job jitters. It was a major transition from working with Tiny. Still, Toby couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else—something Tabby either didn't want to examine or didn't want to tell him.

  He picked up his coffee mug again and decided not to push.

  For now.