Donning a pair of hot pink rubber hoof-covers, a respirator, and ‘Biohazard’ signs, Whiplash marched toward whichever malodorous maladies marred the macerators of the Wonderbolt bathrooms.

The stallion — ever a neat-freak — had reached his tolerance limit with the stark, spicy stenches spreading without surrender.

𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘱, 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯, he thought. This was more reassurance than it was a vote of self-confidence. Who knew what horrors were locked within the latrines?

Spitifre? Coming to check in on him? Knowing that did something to Whiplash. Perhaps for the first time in a very long time, he felt guilt. There was nothing worse @soarin could have said to him, and the worst part was he knew the Commander was trying to be supportive.

Whiplash concealed his feelings behind a veneer of his usual cockiness.

"I'll be sure to drop by her office; I'm sure she'll be real glad ta see a face dat ain't yours, Sir," Whiplash joked.

One Soarin left, the mask slipped.

Whiplash's jaw hung open in disbelief. @soarin certainly had a weird way of operating the facilities.

"Aite well, guess I'll get back ta causing trouble for ya, den. I'll make sure ta be extra terrible to da newbies just for youse, Sir!" Whiplash saluted, nodding at Soarin.

Whiplash convulsed.

"So ya mean da toilets ain't been cleaned for months just 'cause I went away for a little while!?" Whiplash exclaimed, his voice raised in shock and disgust. "Dat's real gross. What kinda circus ya running here!?"

If ponies knew Whiplash, they knew that with little exception, he was a neat freak. The idea of the toilets going uncleaned for several months, posing risk of a biohazard, was nothing short of revolting to him. He glared at @soarin judgmentally.

"...a stink?" Whiplash repeated. "I mean, I wasn't gonna say but, I kinda assoomed ya ran outta deodorant 'cause of how bad it smelled here when I came back..."

Whiplash retched just thinking about the smell again. It wasn't too bad in some areas, but the Wonderbolt base certainly carried a very unique aroma.

"What even is dat?" he asked, staring @soarin down intensely. The young stallion suddenly remembered his manners. "Uh... I mean, why's it smell like hot [HONK], Sir?"

"..."

Whiplash merely stared @soarin down. This was clearly more uncomfortable for the Commander than it was for him.

He watched Soarin writhe and squirm awkwardly, stammering away.

"...Soooo uh, wid all due respect, Sir, would ya mind telling me why ya missed me so much?"

Whiplash eyed Soarin up and down. From what Whiplash could see, the stallion had certainly enjoyed the off-season, looking more elephantine than ever...

*See Whiplash-vision below*