> You sigh gently, lifting a hoof to lightly tap Rumble on the nose.
"You know it's not too easy for Anonymous to find ponies who will join his guard force, right?"
> Rumble mutters something into the sheets.
> You don't bother asking; it's reasonably easy to figure out what.
"I know, Rumble. We don't have to like what we're doing, but the fact is we do it. We keep the others in line, keep them following his rules."
> "We keep them slaves..."
"...yeah, I kinda guessed you felt that way."
> He doesn't respond; instead, you lay your head back down and go on:
"Whatever your feelings are, we do it. When you're seeing that the bread gets passed out, or we're checking everypony is in after curfew, or finding out why somepony skipped their work shift... and he values that."
> Rumble shifts, mouth opening, but you cut him off:
"We do it, and we can do it because we're a lot more kindly about it than any of his guards could be. Would be. You and I, bro - we're not tougher than we have to be. Sometimes, we even give a pony a bit of help when they need it."
> This time, Rumble simply nods.
> Even with the door to your room closed, speaking about specifics makes you nervous.
> Fortunately it's clear that he understands what you mean.
> When he'd see a pony whose rations clearly weren't meeting what they needed or obviously needed a pick-me-up and would 'forget' that he'd already issued them a ration of fresh bread.
> Or when you'd find somepony rushing back to their quarters just after curfew and leave them with a mere talking-to rather than the report to the overseers your rules demanded.
> A thousand other little mercies, to ease the daily existence of living here.
"Bro - let me lead you in on a secret. All that stuff you're doing, that you think is secret from Anonymous? He knows. He's always known. He knows about the things I do too."
> To this, Rumble can't help but respond.