>You trot up to the task, which up close proved to be much larger than you had thought. The stallion behind it was towering; the kind that probably considered throwing cut-down trees as a 'fun pasttime.' Despite the audible clip-clop of your hooves, your presence goes unnoticed at first.
"Ahem," you clear your throat, "Excuse me, sir. I wish to inquire about some renovations and repairs to my property. Are you the one I should speak with about such arrangements?" >Slowly, almost painfully so, the stallions eyes pulled away from the paperwork and settled upon you. >"Aye," he answers, a flat and heavy baritone to his voice.
"So...would it be possible to get somepony to inspect my property and get an estimate?" >The stallion blinks. "Aye."
"Could we...do that soon?" >"Aye." This time the stallion began to actually move, gradually pivoting in his seat away from you and towards a nearby stairwell. >"'Ey! Rowan! Ya got work ta do!" >"I'm busy, dad! Get Juniper to do it!" A voice shouted down in response. >"I dannae care! Pull yer dick outta that sheep and get down here!" >A few moments later, an equally large, shaggy-maned pony came trotting down the stairs, visibly annoyed. >"For the last time, dad, she's from Shetland, not Sheepland!" the younger stallion quipped. >"Just grab a board and go help this lad," the father instructed. >You begin to wonder if anything in this town is normal. >The younger stallion grabs a nearby saddlebag and fits it on before trotting over to you. >"Afternoon there. Name's Rowanwood," he introduces himself. "Got some stuff fixing up, eh? What can you tell me about your property?"