|

|
"Seriously? That's a really big flex, to be honest." He informed, looking over at her again.
|
|  |
|
|

|
"This here is probably my sweetest Thoroughbred." She stated, leading out her solid black Thoroughbred stallion.
|
|
|
|

|
"Well what makes this guy so sweet?" Marco asked, leaning on the frame of the barn.
|
|  |
|
|

|
"He's fine with other stallions, mares in heat, and he's just gentle." She stated. "His jockey doesn't even need to use whips, spurs, or a crop on him, not that I'd allow that."
|
|
|
|

|
"That's pretty rare, not that I know much about it anyways, but still, pretty rare a jocket not using anything." He said, smiling softly.
|
|  |
|
|

|
The stallion snorted gently, standing perfectly still, sniffing Marco. He nickered quietly, ears perked forward.
|
|
|
|

|
Marco hesitated for a moment before reaching up and stroking the stallions face, chuckling as the horse curled up its top lip, making for a goofy expression. "you're a goof," Marco mumbled, starting to pat the horses neck.
|
|  |
|
|

|
"That he is. His racing name is Night's Erebus, but I just call him Erebus." She stated. "He's a very sweet boy, loves running. Has the patience of a saint."
|
|
|
|

|
"Erebus, nice name." He complemented, stepping to the side of the stallion and scratching along his side.
|
|  |
|
|

|
Night's Erebus lowered his head, whinnying, ears still perked up. He swished his tail lightly, his sleek build glistening in the setting sun.
|
|
|