The two melting cubes of ice struck each other, driven by the swirling mixture of water and fine liquor. A cream-colored hoof raised it to a pair of lips, shakily drinking down far more in one go than would be the norm for a "casual drinker". But Mayor Mare was not casual with her drinking, and this was not a time to go easy on the booze. Her ornate glasses slid a bit from their resting place on her muzzle as she tipped her head back farther, letting the golden liquid slide down her throat. In better days she would have saved this particular scotch for a special occasion- she also probably would have spent time tasting it, rather than what she was doing now. An onlooker from those days might think she was trying to kill herself, with the rate she was going; but any contemporary would conjecture that she had a better-than-average day and needed to dull the pain. She knew it would take time for the liquor to have its effect, and she already found herself needing more and more to keep her troubles at bay. She only bothered with the ice and water so that she didn't have to buy it as often.
The older mare looked across her desk at the stranger standing in the doorway. Well, not really a stranger, she mused, adjusting her glasses, but a... business partner? At least, soon to be, provided things went well. But the cost...
"You realize what you're suggesting, of course, Mr. Parsley. This will have... repercussions." Her voice seemed weak and frail in her own head, though she tried her best to be strong and confident- can't afford to appear vulnerable in a dialogue like this. Her age had been getting the best of her, lately. Had been for a long time, honestly.
The stallion shifted, and took a step closer to the Mayor's mahogany desk with its sheafs of paper. Outside, through the windows with its lazily-drawn curtains, he could see the gray sky and light rain that had been falling on the town for days. Pouring himself a glass of scotch, Sweet Parsley adjusted the brim of the hat he was wearing to get a better look at the Mayor.
"I am suggesting that we ease the burdens of this poor hamlet, Miss Mare. I am suggesting that, for a small fee, my company can increase your tax revenues and keep your town free of undesirables. And I am suggesting that if you play your cards right, you can let the good citizens of Ponyville forget about term limits for one more year and let you keep the lifestyle that you have become accustomed to."
Mayor Darling Mare took another bolt of golden relief and loosened the grip her cravat held on her throat- she was starting to feel a cold sweat. This was a lot to take in, but even though she worried about the fallout of her decision, it was too good an offer to pass up. She couldn't keep up with the tide of refugees and squatters coming in from Hoofington and whatever rocks they crawled out from under- or, perhaps more fittingly, whatever clouds they fell out of.
"So," the tall, light green stallion prodded, "what is your answer?"
Glancing at her glass, the aged mayor realized it was empty. She steeled herself and forced down the urge to pour more until later, lest she become unable to walk her guest out of her office. Brushing her forelock from her eyes, she replied simply, "The answer, Mr. Parsley, is 'when can your men start?' "