Spike lay prone in his bed, holding the pages of a [i]Power Ponies[/i] comic down in place. His eyes were fixed to the colorful panels, and he kicked his stubby feet back and forth while reading. Around him, books were strewn all over the place, left there since the start of the day. No doubt Twilight would organize them later. He was almost at the point where the Mane-iac escaped from prison for the twelfth time when a faint buzzing caused him to quirk his head toward the doorway. At first he couldn't see anything there, but a small housefly quickly came into view. Its the size of its thorax and abdomen was large and they bulged a bit, like a bumblebee but not as furry and arguably less useful to equine society. The fly's compound eyes glared at him as though the room were its domain. Sighing, Spike returned to his comic. "Go away." The fly made a circuit around the room, flying rather slowly due to its size. Erratically, it took a stop at a nearby table, landing atop it in the time a pony could do a quick tap dance. Not long afterwards, it went off to mark the territory of the hallway instead. "Finally," he muttered under his breath before being engrossed in the comic once more. Minutes passed without any movement, until the fly re-entered the room to tour the mobile hanging from the ceiling. The buzzing sound became prominent again, but this time it dared to come closer and closer to Spike's bed, regaling the dragon with the history of the mighty housefly race by beating its wings. He didn't give the fly the luxury of even a glance as he turned the page. "Seriously, buzz off." Being incapable of understanding the language of equines and dragons alike, the fly took it as an invitation to sit on the dragon's shoulder and suck at the nutrients with its hairy proboscis. Spike's eyes twitched slightly as the fly crawled downwards to his right hand, now sucking microscopic bits of who-knows-what. After scouring the surface of his hand for particles left over from his breakfast, it crouched down and— Faster than Twilight's faceplants in flight training, Spike swatted the fly as hard as he could. Pain instantly coursed through his body, and he cried out loud enough for the resulting sound to echo across the hallway. He bit his lip as he caressed his hand. The fly wasn't there, but he tried not to think about that. However, he did manage a faint smile when he noticed that his comic was intact, though this small comfort disappeared the moment the buzzing noise started once again. The fly, before flying to the bucket of gems, took a slight detour to the various crystalline frame around the bookcase first to take in the decor. Twilight barged into the room, eyes wide and ears perked. Her voice was frantic. "Spike, are you alr—" She glanced at the fly resting on the gems, then at Spike shaking and still caressing his hand. "Oh, I'll deal with it," she said. The housefly was rubbing its forelegs in an intense back-and-forth motion, sometimes lowering its head to clean that too. With millimeter precision, Twilight grabbed the fly, levitated it into the air, and cremated it alive into a pile of dust. Then, the remains still caught in her magic, she headed for the doorway. She allowed a small smirk to cross her face. Spike's mouth hung agape. "Should I worry about you doing that to ponies?" Her smirk faded. "Uhh..." was her response as she sprinkled the remains into the trash can.