Neighcaraguan Nights

by Prolet

Chapter 3: The Other Side

The hotel’s breakfast was amazingly diverse, but I didn’t have time to fully enjoy it. Snatching a few waffles and a cup of coffee from the line, I took a seat in the almost empty dinner hall. It was weird how a hotel of this size and quality had been built to serve only a dozen ponies. Had I not received my reservation as a gift from Neighcaragua, even my wallet would have taken too much of a dent from staying here.

Black, spicy and hot. I reveled in the coffee’s taste – it certainly was one of the better flavors. It was almost sad that I had to gulp it down with such haste. The waffles, on the other hoof, weren’t anything special.

After only a couple of minutes, I was ready, and trod through the enormous room to put my plate and cup onto an empty stand designated just for that purpose.

I made my way to the parking lot through the lonely hallways, seeing only the occasional businesspony or hotel worker. The morning was warm, like expected, and there were just as little clouds in the sky as there were visitors in the hotel. A smile crept onto my face. Whatever would happen in the practice session, at least the weather wouldn’t be a problem. I unlocked my car and stepped in, taking the usual, uncomfortable position in the driver’s seat. Once again, I turned the key in the lock, pushing the gas pedal down. The hum of the engine was music to my ears.

--

I stepped out of my car, eager to see it all from up close. In front of me stood the black behinds of the International Raceway’s massive stands. I’d seen pictures, sure. But witnessing the whole construct from this close was something else entirely… the way the fifty-yards-tall stands rose up from the yellow fields, the way they contrasted with the blue sky – it was almost like Celestia herself had thrown them down from the skies for ponies to wonder. Even though the raceway had been built practically in the middle of nowhere, with barely any trees in sight, a two-lane highway led here. The parking lot was even bigger than the one of Queen’s Rest, but this one actually held cars.

After taking in the sight for long enough, I shook my head and trod towards the enormous construct. I saw one of my mechanics, Golden Rod, waving for me in the distance. She greeted me politely when I got closer, motioning me to follow her. We walked through corridors beneath the stands, emerging onto the pit lane from an underground entrance. Each of the garages was designated by a number that’d been assigned long ago, based on the respective teams of each driver. Mine was 16. In total, there would be 30 competitors, all of them invited based on their status and success in other series and events. Luckily, Piers’s number was 29, so it was unlikely that we’d have to see each other’s faces too much.

From the pits I could see the track much better. I’d studied all about it, so nothing came as a surprise. The whole complex was bordered by a huge and wide oval – one so big that my hooves were already itching from anticipation of driving on it. Laid on the track only weeks ago, the tarmac was nigh pitch-black. Instead of holding a vast field of grass in the middle as usual, an inner circuit had been constructed there to create many different possibilities for track setups. There would be one race on a long track, one on a shorter one, and a final showdown on the oval.

The rest of my crew was already in the garage as we arrived, but the car looked like it had been left alone for now. Seeing the racer always brought a grin to my face. It was sleek and orange with an open cockpit. The car was quite long, and the frontal engine strengthened the impression. My number, along with one horizontal white stripe, had been painted on the car’s both sides, and the hood held the names of a few sponsors, the biggest one being Celestia’s Dawn, a Canterlotian newspaper. A small, tilted sheet of glass was in front of the cockpit to prevent the incoming air from hitting the driver directly. I twitched from anticipation – in some hours, I’d be driving the car once again. On the other hoof, the garage looked a bit grungy as expected. A number of shelves and boxes rested by the sterile, white concrete walls, stacks of tires neatly arranged next to the.

“Everything’s fine and dandy, Scootaloo,” told Ground Dweller, the main mechanic. He’d been working with me for three years now. Our team in itself was a small entity – the car was a product of Rich Industries. Filthy owned a three-car team himself, and with my relations, I’d bought one with a fair price, saving me from having to join one of the more prominent factory teams. I liked the freedom that my little private team brought with it.

“Good. The first session starts in four hours?” I asked rhetorically. Without waiting for an answer, I continued: “I’ve studied the map of the track, but I’d like to take a walk around it before changing the car’s setup. Ground, I’d like you to come with me.”

The earth pony shrugged. “Sure.”

We walked out and began the hike through the longer version of the track – it would be the first, and if not the most challenging, at least the most technical of the tracks. I saw a few of my competitors performing the same examination, but Ground and I kept a safe distance from them. As we walked, I noted approvingly that the tarmac was in perfect shape. That was to be expected, considering that this would be the virgin race of the track.

It took us a while to walk through the entire three-mile circuit, but when we returned to the pits, I had a good idea of what I’d want from the car. With the help of my mechanics, I adjusted the suspension to be harder. A quarter of the oval was a part of the track, and as it was by far the best place to overtake, it would be important to have all the possible speed there. A hard suspension would create problems on the inner circuit, but it could be softened if the practice proved my choice a bit too brave. With the huge safety areas, crashing into a wall would be all but impossible everywhere except for the oval, and thus, I could afford taking a small risk.

The hours slowly passed by. There was a lot of movement in pits, but we could afford to slack off a little bit since everything had been put in good order by the mechanics last evening. When the start of the session was thirty minutes away, we finally got onto our hooves to make the necessary last-moment preparations.

When the time came, I sat in the car, putting my helmet on. I double-checked every moving thing in the cockpit. Everything was in good condition. But as I fastened the seatbelt, I realized something alarming: I wasn’t fully concentrated. I couldn’t see the track with my mind’s eye. Instead, I saw Sweetie, singing on a stage not too far away, staring directly at me.

I shut my eyes, trying to forget everything about last night. My focus had to be right here, even if it would only be a practice – I would never win the championships without proper preparation, not to even think about evading the concrete walls lining the oval.

Golden gave me the sign, and I turned the car on. The engine’s beautiful, low rumble was slightly muffled by my helmet, but still sounded like nothing else. Not even Sweetie’s wonderful voice could compare with a 260 horsepower engine.

I drove out of the garage, moving in the back of a line of cars that had formed at the end of the pit lane. A red light still burned in front of the line, but after a minute of waiting, it turned green, and car by car drove to the track. At first, I kept my pace very slow, so that I could get a fair distance to the cars in front. About half of the drivers had chosen to go out right away – everyone wanted to test the brand new circuit out as soon as possible.

As my first real lap begun, I already felt quite comfortable. My focus was right where it was needed: at the invisible line painted on the track – the best possible driving line. I still had to keep care because no rubber had yet burned onto the tarmac. The grip would increase throughout the day, but the first laps would feel very slippery. Nevertheless, I was in complete control of the situation, and knew right away that I’d place well in the qualifications.

--

The mechanics stood in wait as I turned the car back into the garage. My first twelve laps had mostly been about getting used to the track, and I had no idea whether my times were any good, but I was happy at how the big picture was turning out. While the track wasn’t one of the hardest, I still had to keep my concentration very high in the inner circuit to avoid losing precious time. I’d seen Piers’s car behind me on one occasion, but it seemed that he had no wish to fight me already in the practice.

“Want to change something?” asked Ground politely. I could barely hear his words.

I took off my helmet, nodding. My mane was a mess from all the sweat, and the car’s engine was heating my hooves painfully. “Yeah, Ground. The camber needs to be adjusted a tad, so that I can get a better grip on the oval. I know, I know… that one turn shouldn’t be that important. But trust me, it is. Also, soften the suspension a bit.”

“Will do, boss. Take a break; this will take from ten to fifteen minutes.” I turned the car off and rose out, smiling. Driving was simply great.

The rest of the session went past swiftly, as I drove for a few laps before returning to the pits to once again change the car’s setup. When the clock was two and the practice ended, I was mostly complacent with the situation. I felt confident about the next day’s qualifications, and as I trod to my casual car after a short conversation with the mechanics, my anticipation turned to the evening. I’d see Sweetie again.

With many of the other drivers and their crew returning to the city, the traffic was much heavier than I’d previously seen. However, the huge highway made the problem very small. I had a hunch that tomorrow, and especially the day after, the road would, for the first time, be really bogged up by cars.

Because of the interesting views of the gigantic field that sprawled on all directions, I soon stopped the car by the road, turning it off. I stepped out. The wind was light, but noticeable, creating waves in the almost-endless field. Somewhere far away, the edge of the forest could be seen as a green line. Much closer stood a big manor, painted yellow. Around it I saw lots of multicolored dots – ponies – moving on the field. They looked like they were collecting the harvest with scythes and sickles. The area they’d cleared was very small considering the size of the field. I frowned as I realized how long it’d take to harvest every crop of wheat. So this is where all those wheat and sugar exports come from. No wonder that most of the wheat sold in Baltimare is Neighcaraguan instead of Equestrian.

Shrugging, I returned to the car. I couldn’t really comprehend why such a vast field would exist in the first place, but I rationalized that there must have been other manors further away – the workforce of one simply couldn’t have been enough. With no real knowledge of Neighcaraguan agriculture, I pushed the questions onto the backburner.

Back at the hotel, I parked my car in its previous spot. A brown earth pony was standing at the entrance, and as I walked closer, he approached me. I noticed that it was Filthy. “Hi there!” I said. “What are you doing here, Filthy?”

Filthy gave me a rugged smile. “I’m here to invite you to a dinner party, and before you even ask – no, it won’t overlap with any of your races. The party’s going to be after tomorrow’s qualifications. If you want, you could bring one pony with you.”

“I don’t know about that, Filthy… I already have plans for this evening, so I’d rather rest tomorrow. And to be honest, this is a bit too sudden.”

“Oh, but Scootaloo!” laughed Filthy. “With all the sponsorship deals we’ve struck during the years, I’d think that you owe me at least something. Of course, I can’t force you to come, but I’d really appreciate it. Besides, it won’t be a boring party. There’ll be music, food, and the best domestic ale!”

“Filthy… if I attend parties every day, my focus will shift too much from the races. I’m here to win, not to have fun.”

“Why can’t you do both? It’s not like lying in your hotel room would be any better. You gotta keep your level of activity high, so that –“

“Yeah, sure.” I was starting to get annoyed; Filthy wasn’t normally this pervasive. “But I said no.”

“Come on!” exclaimed Filthy, grinning. “You could bring Sweetie Belle along!”

The dots connected in my mind, and I bit my lip. I could spend even more time with Sweetie, but on the other hoof, I’d be stuck in another classy get-together of high-class ponies, and I really was getting tired of them. If Pinkie just was here…

“Well?” inquired Filthy. His stern look demanded an answer.

“Uhm… well…” I muttered, trying to make up a compromise of some sort. “I guess I could ask Sweetie whether she wants to come. If she does, both of us will be there. You fine with that, Filthy?”

Filthy had a thoughtful look on his face for a few seconds. Then, he nodded. “Sure am, Scootaloo. Go on and ask her – the earlier, the better… but I’ve gotta run now. There are other deals to strike. See you tomorrow!”

As Filthy ran off, I smacked my face with a hoof. Once again, I’d been talked to something I had no wish to take part in. It’s too late to change your mind now, so suck it up. Besides, more time with Sweetie doesn’t hurt. You have to make up for being separated for so long. Thinking of Sweetie made me feel better about the whole ordeal. If I’d really have to go, at least I’d have a good friend by my side.

Sweetie. I froze. We hadn’t agreed when we’d meet today, nor where. Great… just great. Think of something. And I thought. I remembered telling Sweetie that I was staying at Queen’s Rest, but couldn’t recall if I’d told her the number of my room. I felt pain in my chest, but knew that there wasn’t much to be done. Of course, I could simply ask for her address in the City Hall, but for some reason, I had a nagging feeling that I’d be intruding if I just marched to her doorstep, assuming that the officials spoke Equestrian in the first place. No – I’d have to let her pick me up. With nothing else to do, I went to my room to continue the Daring Do book.

When the clock hit seven, I decided to go and wait for Sweetie in the hotel’s reception room, relaxing on a sofa leaning against the wall. The receptionist gave me questioning looks, but I didn’t pay much attention to her. Fortunately, I didn’t have to wait for long: Sweetie soon walked in. This time, she was wearing no make-up, nor did she have any jewelry on her. I hadn’t put any on, either, but then again, I didn’t usually wear it in the first place.

I rose from the sofa and bumped hoofs with Sweetie. “Nice to see you, Sweetie… but next time, tell me where to meet, alright?”

Sweetie smirked, taking curious glances at the paintings on the walls. “Sorry. I guess I just forgot, but you didn’t bring it up, either. Not that it matters, since we’re both in the same place. I knew that finding my address would’ve been hard for you due to the language barrier, so I figured out that you’d be waiting for me here.”

“Shall we go, then?”

“Yes.” Sweetie took her eyes off the paintings and shook her head in apparent disapproval. “Just follow me, Scoots. Quite a place, this hotel.”

“It is,” I replied as we started walking. “I have no idea how they’re even managing to stay up. The prices are outrageous!” When I realized we were still inside, I took a look at the receptionist, blushing. She rolled her eyes, apparently unfazed by my words. She’s just a receptionist, not a manager.

Sweetie opened the door for me. The sun was already close to the horizon, so I had to shade my eyes with a hoof to see. “This hotel is run by the government, or so I’ve heard. To be honest, I think the prices are set so high just for keeping unwanted guests out… most of those booked in here are either diplomats or businessponies who don’t have to pay for the accommodation. Practically, the only ponies who stay here are ones with special invitations.”

“That’s pretty weird.”

“I know, right? It seems that making a good impression is more important for the higher-ups than what actually happens in the country. “

I raised an eyebrow, taking Sweetie’s words in. What’s going on in Neighcaragua? You should have read about these things before coming here. “Sweetie, pray tell, what is happening in here? There seems to be an armed pony behind every corner. It’s almost like they fear that an unruly mob or an army could surprise them any moment. Really – I’ve never seen anything like this… if Celestia saw an Equestrian carrying a weapon in public…”

“Equestria is a stabile queendom,” said Sweetie. Her look was empty as we trod through the parking lot. “I’ve lived here for some time now, and after all I’ve seen… I can’t say I’m really fond of the way things are around here. Crime is one problem, but government-promoted crime? That takes the cake. While Equestrian social policies are pretty good, the average worker here struggles to pay for food, not to even talk about living.”

“Whoa, Sweetie.” You should care about these things too. What would your parents think of you now? They didn’t have the time to enjoy your success. “That’s deep. I didn’t know you’d started to care about politics and all that stuff.”

Sweetie snorted. “Politics? Pfft. Equality and justice is what I care about. If that involves politics, then so be it. In Equestria, politics might mean some trivial debates about building permits or the already-light taxes, but here it’s all different. There are much more important issues – like I said, the working conditions of plantation employees are terrible.” Sweetie was starting to sound agitated, making me cringe. “They are legally bound to contracts of many years, and if they resign, all of their pay is taken away! That’s like slavery!”

We were already on the streets, and ponies had started taking funny looks at us. “Uhm… could you please calm yourself down? I’d rather have this discussion elsewhere.”

“Actually, you’re right.” Sweetie leaned towards me, whispering into my ear: “They’re likely listening. The secret police is everywhere.”

I shivered. Sweetie’s talk was starting to get creepy, but caused my mind to wander around. I didn’t pay much attention to the surroundings, simply following Sweetie quietly. As we continued on, we took a few turns and ended up in a part of the city I’d never seen before. Here, the streets became so narrow that driving a car would’ve been all but impossible. The buildings, mostly made of brick, looked gritty and dilapidated. What paint there had been was now mostly gone, with only flakes on the ground left as evidence of the once-colorful exteriors. Even the ponies looked much dirtier. Many wandered around in large groups chattering something in Germane, occasionally shouting a few words at us. Again, Sweetie and I were getting odd looks. Sweat had started dripping off my forehead, and I kept taking nervous glances behind me.

“Sweetie…” I said with a hushed voice, pulling her to a corner. “What is this place? Are you sure that we should be here?”

Sweetie smirked, bumping my shoulder with her hoof. “Getting nervous already?”

“What… no!” I tried my best to sound convincing, but the funny look on Sweetie’s face told me that I’d failed spectacularly. “Look, Sweetie we’re in some poorer part of the city. The dancing place better be a damn good one… we could get robbed any moment!”

“We’re gonna get robbed? You’d really let that happen?” Sweetie’s scorning words made me frown in disbelief. There we were, amidst ponies who could do anything at any time, and Sweetie was making fun of me?

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but –“

“Alright, Scoots, alright,” interrupted Sweetie with a more serious voice, letting her smile die down. “Let’s stop this right here and now. Trust me – you’re going to have the time of your life. Don’t be so prejudiced. The ponies here haven’t drawn the best cards in their lives, but that doesn’t make them robbers.”

“Uhm… sure.” I swiped off the sweat from my forehead, stepping back and taking my eyes off Sweetie’s glare. My heart was racing. “You needn’t be so hostile, though.”

Sweetie fluttered her eyes, her look turning from tense back to calm. “I’m sorry for being so straight-forward, Scoots. It’s not like you could understand – not yet, at least. Let’s continue.”

I was confused by Sweetie’s sudden outburst. I’d never thought that she’d cared about political stuff, but I couldn’t deny that I should have shared her views. After all, I came from very poor living conditions, especially by Equestrian standards. I now lived a much better life, earning more than many of the nobles and businessponies of Canterlot, and thus, the questions hadn’t really mattered for me for a while.

It took us a few minutes until Sweetie stopped in front of a shabby building. Even though it was made of brick like the all the other ones, the building had most of its white paint left, actually making it look even worse than those with none. The building was big and tall, with three floors. In the middle of it was an entrance, numerous posters glued to the wall next to it. The bulky metallic door was wide open, and I could hear music and cheering from inside. What windows the building had were small and so dirty that it was impossible to see through them.

“Is this the place, Sweetie?” I asked, doubt creeping into my voice. Sure, I’d seen that the buildings weren’t fine nor dandy in this part of the city, but I had nevertheless expected something a bit different.

“Yup, it is.” Sweetie strolled towards the entry, stopping and turning her head as I didn’t follow her. “Oh, come on, Scoots! I know the building isn’t in top shape, but it’s not that bad. Besides, it’s a much cleaner place on the inside.”

Don’t be stupid. “Alrighty, then.”

Side-by-side we walked inside. My stomach twisted as the smell of something brawny and cooked hit me – I didn’t know what it was, but I wouldn’t be fond of tasting it. The walls were bare brick, save for one painting depicting the harbor of Meerperl. Oil lamps hung from the ceiling, illuminating the room with their smooth light. The patrons were mostly huddled together around wooden tables in large groups, some of them playing cards while some just talked. There was a spacious dance floor in the back, in front of a small stage. I instinctively leaned closer to Sweetie, who was as calm as ever.

Sweetie guided me to an empty table next to the wall, sitting down and motioning for me to do the same. A bunch of menus, covered by red leather, were neatly leaning against the wall. All had Speisenkarte written on them. “I usually have some friends here with me, but I thought it was better if I didn’t invite them now. We can eat, drink and dance all evening!”

“I… uhm…” I muttered, watching the other ponies carefully. To my relief, none seemed to pay much attention to us. “I’ve never been in a place like this before… and what is that smell?”

“The smell.” Sweetie bit her lip. “Well… it’s… I don’t know how to say this, really…”

“Just spit it out. It can’t be that bad. I’ve had my share of weird local cuisines all around the world. You get used to that after a few times.”

Sweetie scratched the back of her head, her face twisted into an awkward grimace. “It’s… wild turkey.”

My mouth fell agape as the words sank in. Meat? What kind of barbarians are these? “But… that’s disgusting! Ponies should never eat meat! How can their stomachs even handle it? We’re not made for something like that meat, that’s for sure.”

“Relax, Scoots! It’s just a part of the local culture.”

I felt disgusted at the thought of eating meat, and could only hope that Sweetie shared my view. “If the local culture is like tha –“

“Look, it’s not like they’re eating other ponies or anything! Why would it be wrong to eat a bird that’s just fallen dead of some natural cause? Or kill one because you’re very hungry? Here, they’ve simply had to resort to hunting at times… unlike Equestria, Neighcaragua sees famines quite regularly.” I knew that Sweetie was right – a nagging idea had told me that this was some sort of cannibalization, which was a completely ridiculous thought. You really need to let that prejudice go. “Of course, you couldn’t eat it in any case, since, like you said, ponies aren’t made for eating meat. Getting used to that stuff takes a while. And before you ask – no, I haven’t tried it out.”

“Well, I sure as hay won’t be taking a taste… but I almost understand. Almost.” Sweetie rolled her eyes; I probably hadn’t sounded very convincing. “Actually, to be honest, I don’t. You can’t say you expected anything more, though. I hope that this place serves something else, too.”

After an awkward moment of silence, Sweetie opened her mouth. “I understand you don’t understand. All evening we’ve just been arguing – or not really, since you’ve let me speak – but I’d say we cut this out now and start having some fun.”

“Sure.” I took one of the menus in my hooves and opened it. There was a lot of text, but I had no clue what it said. With no idea what the Germane dishes meant, I had to turn to Sweetie, who explained some better-sounding ones to me. There were many interesting dishes like a potato-orange soup, but I settled for the safer and more casual flower sandwiches.

Sweetie motioned for the lone waitress, a brown earth pony, to come to take our orders. She looked no cleaner than any of the other ponies, but her smile was earnest. “Was willen Sie haben?”

“Zwei mal Blumer Sandwich, bitte,” replied Sweetie. “Und als getränke – Wasser, bitte.” The waitress nodded, wrote down our orders, and trod back behind the bar. “I ordered us only water, at first. We’ll have more than enough time to enjoy all sorts of drinks later. It’s better to save the best for the last!”

We made ourselves comfortable in the seats and started talking about Ponyville, continuing from where we had left the night before. It was surprising how many good and bad memories surfaced once more – usually, they were mostly hidden in the haze that memory tended to be. I laughed my flank off as we recollected, taking turns, the events that had led Filthy Rich to sponsor me. The look on Diamond’s face after she’d heard the news had been very satisfying. Yet, now that those times were years in the past, I could only feel pity for our former bully. Her issues with her father had kept getting worse and worse, and I had to admit that was mainly Filthy’s fault. Sweetie and I had been lucky to have caring parents.

Our sandwiches arrived in no time. They didn’t taste particularly good or bad; the bread was a bit dry and too crunchy, but the fresh flowers made up for it, bringing those of Ponyville’s own restaurants to my mind. The fancy ones of Canterlot couldn’t really compare – after all, vegetables and flowers tended to be much fresher in rural areas, no matter how well one tried to preserve them. In even less time than it had taken to wait for the food, both Sweetie and I had gone through it.

“Guten abend!” I turned my head to the stage, and saw a purple unicorn next to a microphone. Her mane was white with streaks of black. Behind her, five other ponies were sitting on chairs, each holding an instrument – two had guitars, one a pair of maracas, and the last one held a small drum.

Without further ado, the band started playing some sort of swingy song. I couldn’t understand the lyrics, but the tune was cheery. A minute in, the first ponies went to the dance floor – seemingly not caring about proper etiquette or simply not having much skills, their dancing looked more like irregular spinning and jumping than the graceful moves I was used to seeing. Your dancing isn’t going to look any different.

Sweetie rose up, grabbing my hoof and pulling me up along with her. My chest was aching from sudden nervousness – going into the crowd now felt somewhat terrifying. I knew none of the ponies, and probably didn’t so much as share a language with most of them. “Let’s go, Scoots! It’ll be fun, trust me!”

I took a glance behind me, instinctively trying to find an excuse to refuse, but the blank wall offered no help. Sighing, I nodded, allowing the grinning Sweetie to pull me with her. Before I even realized, we were on the dance floor. Sweetie put her other hoof on my shoulder, and I did the same with her. The happiness in her eyes helped my nervousness ease off a bit, and soon, we were awkwardly dancing in the beat of the rhythm.

Every now and then, I missed the beat and stumbled, kept up by Sweetie. Thankfully, she seemed eager to correct my mistakes. It was over a year since I’d last danced, and I’d never been very good at it in the first place. My moves were far from gracious, but nevertheless, I was starting to enjoy myself. In the apparently-experienced hooves of Sweetie I felt safe. Her touch was both gentle and rough at the same time, just like the song that was being played.

It took some time for me to get into the rhythm, but when I did, it felt like my head was filled with mist. Every move I did was necessary, and now, they were coming automatically, almost like I was the engine of a car, all the parts moving in the intended conjunction to move my whole body. The voice of the singer helped with this – it was sweet, soft and entrancing, very much like Sweetie’s. Even though I didn’t understand the lyrics, I felt their power, hearing all the happy emotion from the mere tone.

At the end of the second song a stinging pain hit my back. My hooves stiffened, and I had to stop dancing. Sweetie frowned, but I just shook my head, pointing back at the table. “I need a break. Sorry.” Sweetie bit her lip and glanced at the stage, where the singer was conversing something with the rest of the band. As I stepped off the dance floor, Sweetie followed.

Only when I sat down did I realize how hot it had become. My sides, covered by my uncomfortably warm wings, felt damp, and I couldn’t help but note the stinging smell of sweat in the air. My cheeks suddenly felt very hot. Great. Now you smell, too.

“Well, did you like it?” asked Sweetie, sitting down on the other side of the table. “That was a pretty fast tempo.”

“Dancing is pretty awesome. But… well… my back didn’t really like the tempo. That’s what you get for sitting in a car for your living, I suppose.”

Sweetie’s eyes opened wide, and I saw worry in them. “Your back? I thought you just didn’t want to dance… since when have you had back problems? Isn’t it… dangerous to race, then? What if you get a cramp?”

“Ever since my first few races. Look, it’s not that bad,” I said, trying to sound as convincing as possible. “I’ve lived with it for a while, and it usually isn’t a problem. Besides, the seat of my racing car was custom-made for me. Sure, I might experience some pain when just driving around, but that never happens during a race. You don’t need to worry about this, really.”

“It did look like a problem just a minute ago…”

“I’ll get over it. It’s just that I haven’t danced since Silver and I broke up. To be honest, I enjoyed finally doing it… I just can’t dance with somepony I don’t know well. It’s more intimate than one would think. When I tried it a long time ago, I felt more uncomfortable than anything.” I sighed. “And now I’m getting all mushy. But regardless, if we sit here for a while, I’m ready to go again after a song or two.” The tempo of the song being played was just as fast as that of the previous ones. This time, however, there were no vocals, and ponies were dancing in a much wilder and more random manner than before. I snorted. “With songs like this, we’ll have to wait for a while…”

Sweetie nodded. “Sure. Just tell me when you’re good to go. While waiting for that, we could have a few drinks.”

Again, Sweetie motioned for the waitress to come, and ordered some sort of wine for the both of us, refusing to answer my questions about it. I was becoming a bit frustrated at Sweetie and her attitude – never had I been one to like surprises. Don’t think about it like that, silly. This place was a pleasant surprise, and you know it. A few oddball patrons aren’t going to ruin everything, and neither is some wine.

Soon, the waitress brought us a fancy, green-tinted bottle. It was clearly white wine, and in a fine bottle at that, though the glasses looked pretty ordinary. Without hesitation, I opened the bottle and poured the glasses full. The wine had a green tint to it, but that didn’t show in the taste – it was sweet, soft and exotic. I’d never drunk wine like that before… and this was supposed to be one of the cheaper brands.

“Good?” asked Sweetie.

“Yeah. The best.” My back was a bit better, and the band was now playing a slower song. A grin rose to my face. “I think I’m good to go now. Shall we leave this wine and go for another round on the dance floor, milady?”

Sweetie returned my grin, jumping up from her chair. “Sure, Scoots. Don’t let that speech pattern stick, though. I like your usual self more.”

--

The air was warm and damp, just like the night before, and my mind was fuzzy. Sweetie and I walked side-by-side, our coats occasionally brushing against each other. The soft, tickling touch made me giggle each time. We shared a word every now and then, until we came back to the fancier part of the city, marking the time for us to depart.

“Thanks for the evening.” I gently embraced Sweetie, who returned the gesture with a smile on her lips. For a moment, I could feel her heartbeat.

“No, thank you, Scoots. It’s almost a shame that you have all the races and everything… I’d rather spend every day with you.”

I finally remembered Filthy’s invitation. “Actually, we could do this again tomorrow. Well, not exactly like this, but still… Filthy told me to ask if you’d like to come to some sort of party held by local officials.”

Sweetie shook her head and frowned. “No. I want no part in that.”

“But we could again –“

“No, Scoots. Just… no. Take my word for it. And don’t go there by yourself, either. The officials are nothing more than criminals, and that’s exactly why Filthy’s there – to sell arms to the mafia that the government is.”

Another great night ruined by politics. “Alright, alright… just calm down. I wouldn’t have gone without you in any case.”

“Sorry.” Sweetie hugged me again, and I let out a laugh. She was almost as soft as my bed. “Politics just happen to be like that – when you start talking, you tend to end up raging.”

“Whatever. I suppose that a day off is for the better, anyway, with the race the day after tomorrow. It’d be great to see after that, though. Oh, and will you be rooting for me tomorrow?”

“Sure will. In fact, my entire week is free. I’ll be there every session, if I can – and since I get the tickets for free, that’s not going to be a problem.”

I took a glance at the stars above. “See you, Sweetie. Hopefully we can find some more time to be with each other.”

“I’m sure about that. See you, Scoots.” With that, Sweetie trod off. Noting that her step was just as graceful as Rarity’s, I snickered at a sudden idea of running back to her and giving a peck on her cheek. For some reason, the thought didn’t strike me as particularly weird, but I still managed to suppress the urge to carry it out. Keep your focus.