Prince Blueblood trotted over the mare’s cloak, grinning. Rudeness was strangely accompanied by an invigorating sense of loftiness. He didn’t quite know why that was, but for the few chances he got to play the part of a snooty upper-class prince, it was admittedly fun.

Perhaps this Rarity would finally leave him alone.

Blueblood was no stranger to galas and public events. As a figure in the public eye, it was expected for him to attend, but he wasn’t particularly a fan. The Grand Galloping Gala was nothing but a fancy party for nobles and pop stars. It was worth noting that more purposeful gatherings tended to be superficially political anyway, but the Gala in particular tended to attract the shallower nobles.

He was well aware of his own power and wealth, and he’d learned to be wary of freeloaders seeking his hoof in marriage so they could stick their own hooves in his pockets. Ponies like them were shameful. So, since removing himself from a position of power wasn’t a viable option at the moment, he had to resort to making himself undesirable in other ways.

He and Rarity approached a simple apple stand, likely set up by a local business. “Two apple fritters, please,” Rarity said.

“Two apple fritters comin’ right up,” the vendor said, dipping down to fetch the fritters. Blueblood loved her southern accent, as not only did it sound authentic, but it was a nice break from the faux aristocratic accent that all other nobles pretentiously adopted. “That’ll be four bits,” the vendor said, smiling warmly.

He was glad to support small businesses, in addition to various charities and non-profit organizations, but galas like this were the best way to ruin the public’s perception of him. Blueblood had an idea, and cleared his throat to Rarity.

She cleared her own throat, but after some encouragement, she finally gave in. “I’m going to have to pay, aren’t I?” she said, glowering.

Blueblood smiled. Now she was getting the idea. Every shade of uncouth, this prince. Perhaps offering to dance and abandoning her for another mare was in order, if Rarity was still hanging around by the time they headed back inside.

Blueblood considered Rarity. It was possible that she was one of the innocent ponies, one of the ten thousands of readers of Ponies magazine’s annual Hottest Stallion Alive list, the wide-eyed dreamers who convinced themselves that love at first sight was a realistic notion. Blueblood knew that some of his admirers were like that, and some of those were genuinely good ponies, but tarnishing his public image was still a necessary evil.

“It’s okay, Rarity, I gotcha covered,” the vender said, handing Blueblood the platter of fritters.

Ah, so these two knew each other. Well, to insult one’s friend is to insult them both. Perhaps he could refuse the fritter and turn up his nose, refusing to eat such… plebeian trash? No, how about… carnival fare? Yes, that would do. They did look appetizing, though. Oh, of course! He could take a bite and then spit it right back out. Even better.

“Thank you, Applejack,” Rarity said as Blueblood accepted the tray of fritters. “At least somepony here has good manners.”

Prince Blueblood chewed the delicious apple fritter, allowing a small smirk. Oh, I can most certainly show you manners.