> DJ COL-7
>  by Sparkler
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Eine Kleine Nachtkore
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tap.  Tap.  Tap.  Tap.  Stomp.  Stomp.  Stomp.  Stomp.  stompstompstompstomp stompstompstompstomp

"Vinyl!"

The door swung open, showing the hoofprint of the angry charcoal mare behind it.

"Just what do you think you're doing clopping around like that at this hour," Octavia groused.  "I was trying to practice-"

"I got it!  I got it!"  DJ PON-3 tossed her head proudly, a flick of magic tossing her signature glasses to the side.  Those glasses served as more than just a fashion statement.  With her glasses on, she was DJ PON-3, always a perfectionist and always driving right to the point, the consummate professional.  With her glasses off, she was Vinyl Scratch, goofy party animal, the consummate dork.  The latter was the one that faced Octavia, prancing in place like a schoolfilly in her excitement

"What," Octavia sighed, gritting her teeth.  "Another record, or some silly microph-"

"The gig!  I got a gig!  The biggest gig I've ever had!"  Vinyl Scratch dropped her saddlebags off to the side and tossed her hair out, giggling triumphantly.

"Another frat party?" Octavia offered.  Vinyl's bread and butter paid enough to pay her share of the rent - but only just - and it hadn't paid anything at all since the end of the school year.

"No - no!  It's not like that," Vinyl denied.  "Well...  kind of."  Her giggle came back, and her grin broadened.  "Have you heard of Prince Blueblood?"

"Well, yes."  Prince Blueblood was once of the most infamous members of Equestrian royalty - as much for being intolerable as for being handsome.  "I know who he is -"  Octavia's mouth fell open in realization.  "You don't mean-"

"Yes!"  Vinyl Scratch giggled, her hooves bouncing and settling into a rapid beat.  "And he wants me to make an original, too!  Something that's classic yet exciting.  It's a gig and a commission, how sweet it that?"

Octavia laughed a very improper laugh, and they both began prancing together in joy.  "I'm so happy for you!"  They both shouted at the same time -

"You got his wedding reception!"

"I got his bachelor party!"

Octavia's hooves suddenly rested against the floor as if they had never been moving at all.  "What."

"And all the up-and-up are going to be there," Vinyl Scratched grinned, ignoring the flat stare she was receiving.  "So I'll get lots of attention from ponies a little more-heeled than Canterlot Magitech."  Vinyl continued to dance in place, doing a spin and landing to a timing only she heard.

"Well.  I wish you luck.  How many bits are you getting for this gig?  Two hundred?"

Vinyl puffed, which led to a snicker.  "Seriously, Octy, for a party of three hundred nobles?  I could talk him into a bit more than that."

Octavia tilted her head to the broad, almost predatory grin Vinyl made.  "How much more are you talking?"

Vinyl smiled smugly and tilted her head.  "Come here, take a look."

In a flick of brilliant blue magic, Vinyl Scratch levitated a black fabric bag out of her saddlebags and dropped it at Octavia's feet, a few coins spilling forth.  Instead of the common yellow or orange coins, every coin in the bag was a gleaming silver.  Most were framed with the face of the Dawnbringer Princess, but a few pieces were in unusual shapes or sizes, depicting monuments and great moments in Equestrian history; these coins Octavia only barely recognized as being worth a hundred bits apiece.  There were even a few jewels; pocket change for nobility, but invaluable for two fillies struggling to make rent.

"Vinyl...  there must be over a thousand bits in here."

"I know!  And that's just the deposit."

Octavia's smile came back, warming up to the idea of Vinyl performing at a bachelor party if it meant she could bring in this kind of coin.  "Well.  That means our rent for a few months is taken care of-"

"-not so fast," Vinyl interrupted, scooping up the coins before Octavia could grab the bag in her teeth.  "Most of this is going towards rentals and spell work."

"Rentals.  Spell work?  Vinyl...  you're a unicorn."

Vinyl shrugged, as she trotted off to drop the bag in a cookie jar.  "Yeah.  And...?"

"What do you need spell work for?  Can't you do it yourself?"

"Yeah.  Maybe I can, but ..."  Vinyl cringed, and rubbed behind an ear, looking away from Octavia.  "... this is kind of specialty work, and I really don't want to get it wrong.  And the client...  didn't exactly request it, but strongly implied it."

"What?"  Octavia smirked playfully.  "Are you telling me the great DJ PON-3 can't do something?"

Vinyl muttered something bitterly under her breath.

"What was that?"

"No.  I'm sure I could do it if I have to.  But I can afford to get things wrong.  DJ PON-3 can't."  Vinyl looked at Octavia.  "Reputation is everything in this town.  You know that."

Octavia cringed.  That was a fact that she knew all too well; she had had her own dry months, and being a music teacher instead of a professional musician had long grated against her pride.  "... point taken.  But do try to save some of it?"

"Come on, Octy," Vinyl grinned, curling a foreleg around her in a far-too-friendly hug.  "When was the last time you knew me to waste bits?"





Vinyl held a corn dog in her magical grip, spinning lazily between two speakers. "Hey, Octy.  Did you know you can use sound waves for cooking?"





"It's a baby aurumvorax!  Isn't it so cute?"  Vinyl held up the small golden gorger with a proud grin.  "He's so playful too!  Imma name him Chompy."





The remains of a potato cannon array surrounded Vinyl, who could only grin.  "Totally worth it," she giggled madly before passing out among the destroyed tubes and tubers.





"Nothing comes to mind," Octavia deadpanned.

"Come on," Vinyl grinned.  "Even if this gig changes nothing, we'll be set for months, and pulling off just one gig this size in front of so many ponies will open up so many doors.  We should celebrate."  Vinyl gave her most winsome smile. "In fact, I'll cook dinner tonight, okay?"

"Vinyl," Octavia sighed.  "You know what happened last time..."

"I'll make rose petal dressing," Vinyl teased in a singsong.  When not even the promise of her favorite food turned Octavia's frown, Vinyl Scratch took matters in her own hooves, quite literally holding them up to Octavia's face and trying to force her mouth into a smile.  She could only take so much of Octavia's firm determination to refuse to smile even when coerced, however, before she fell down giggling.

"Vinyl."  Octavia finally relented, allowing herself to smirk.  "Alright.  We'll celebrate, but don't put all your bits into one basket, deal?"

"Shyeah."  Vinyl grinned.  "You know my policy, Tavi.  DJ PON-3 always delivers."





For the last few weeks, Vinyl Scratch had been disappearing into her studio more and more.  In attempting to fill the terms of the commission - a fast, high-energy piece with references to the greatest works in the Equestrian musical tradition - Vinyl had been trying to introduce classical music into her usual "cantercore" style.  In the name of her muse, pitch changes, synthesizers, and autotuners absolutely butchered dozens of pieces of classical music.  And always, always more percussion and faster and faster tempos.  But no matter what she did, no matter how she altered the beats or pitch or completely recomposed the opening of her own piece, the sound of Sapphire Shores just did not lead into the aggressive Maneheim Rocket that opened her song.

Octavia wandered by the utility room that also served as Vinyl's tiny studio, a tray of celery stalks laden with peanut butter in her mouth.  It had been days since she last saw Vinyl, who had grown ever more secretive once she had thrown the whole of her time into creation.  Setting it on a side table for a moment, Octavia went to tug the door open.  "Vinyl, I know you haven't eaten-"

There was a sudden clatter, and the door fell back against Octavia, banging her hoof.  By the deep thud that followed, it sounded as if Vinyl had launched herself bodily against the door.  Octavia yelped and drew her hoof up, shaking it from side to side to try to get some blood into the stubbed hoof.

"Vinyl, are you okay in there..."

"Uh huh!"  Octavia could hear the scrambling of hooves from behind the door.  She tested it, but the door was even more firmly stuck.

"... are you sure?  You don't sound sound quite yourself," she chided, resting a hoof on the handle.  "I brought some snacks.  I'll just leave them by the door-"

"Mmmt-mmmt!"  Vinyl's voice sounded like she had bitten into a sock; there were no consonants besides those that could be pronounced in the back of the throat.

"Well...  I'll just leave the plate on the side table, alright?"

"Uhrr-khrr!"  The cadence sounded close enough to an 'okay' to Octavia, so she took a few steps back.  The door slowly swung open, and she caught a glimpse of a bright electric blue mane.  Quickly, Octavia sprung for the entrance, trying to stick her hoof in it, but Vinyl had already caught the celery boats and floated them single-file into her studio, slamming the door shut sitting back behind the door.  Only the sound of grateful crunches answered her roommate's calls.

Oh, you want to play it the hard way?  Octavia smiled smugly.  With very careful footfalls, the cellist walked to the head of the stairs - but no further.  Taking a book in her mouth, Octavia carefully rested herself on the floor, making sure to not make a floorboard creak.  She had to make sure Vinyl's secret project wasn't doomed to end in a messy failure again, after all.

Well, two can play that game, Vinyl Scratch.





A few hours later, just before it was time to go to bed, the DJ finally headed out of the tiny studio.  "Good thing she's out tonight," the unicorn muttered as the finalized mix tape merrily floated down the hallway in an electric blue field.  "I thought she'd never-"

There was the sound of a book dropping on its spine.  Cringing, the unicorn turned around...  and saw Octavia, sitting at he other end of the hallway, mouth open aghast, the pages of her book still fluttering from its fall.

"Uhm, hey, Octy.  This really really isn't what it looks like-"

"Vinyl...  I..."  Octavia stood up, still in disbelief.  "Is that... you?"

The unicorn that had stepped out looked like her old roommate - down to the trademark blue frizz and purple shades.  Even the cutie mark was the exact same.  But there was no avoiding that the pony standing before her was a stallion.  He stood a hoof's breadth taller than the mare did, and his form seemed to be aggressively sculpted, looking nothing like the slightly pudgy mare Octavia had last seen.

"Did you just wait on me to step out?  That's really creepy, Tavi," he laughed nervously.  A glow of magic lifted his glasses up and over his horn, the familiar red eyes looking back to his roommate's.

"Vinyl...  you're...  you're a colt!"

"Heh...  yeah," the unicorn laughed nervously.  He grinned, and gave a pose.  "How do I look?"

"Bwuh-wha?"  Octavia both wanted to run towards and away from her friend, and she shied.  A restrained shy, considering she was a restrained mare, but it spoke volumes.  "How- why?"

"Well...  you remember those conditions, Tavi?"  The DJ shook his mane, sighing.  "This is a bachelor party.  Any filly there's liable to get hit on or felt up - as a matter of fact, there's going to be some ponies there whose," he coughed politely, "job it is to be there for just that.  And don't you go spreading that, ruining Blueblood's reputation will only come back to destroy mine."

"But that doesn't mean you go and turn yourself into a colt!"

"Well, as Prince Blueblood said himself, 'Either you shake that plot on set, or you show up as a stallion.'"  He grinned manically.  "I didn't think he knew you could do just that.  And a verbal contract's just as enforceable in Canterlot."

With a gulp, Octavia realized her eyes had been tracing just behind his cutie mark, and she had to forcibly stop herself from imagining him shaking his plot.  "But, Vinyl.  Isn't it..."  Octavia cringed.  "Isn't this kind of body modification magic dangerous?"

"What.  Dangerous?  Nah," he shook his mane.  "This kind of magic is just a basic spell, since it doesn't do any spectacular changes.  I'm still me, after all.  It just took some pony who was very precise.  It'll blink away in a day or two when my own magic overrides it."  Octavia watched the strange stallion's mannerisms, but could only see her roommate in his motions.  "Oh, and Tavi?  Don't call me Vinyl Scratch when I'm like this."

Listening to the cadence of his speech, and the way he liked to bounce on his back hooves when talking, Octavia was mostly satisfied that the stallion in front of her was, in fact, her roommate Vinyl Scratch.  "Oh?  And what should I call you, then?"

He grinned widely.  "Cole."

"Coal?  I didn't think charcoal came in white..."

"No, not Coal, Cole.  Like in my new stage name," he grinned.  The unicorn gave a wave, beckoning Octavia closer.  "C'mon, take a look."

Pulling Octavia with a foreleg, Cole waved at the sign drying in the laundry room/studio/recording room, and grinned.  "There she is."

There, a hemmed vinyl sign hung up over the walls.  Unlike the professionally airbrushed sign that DJ PON-3 used in her normal gigs, this sign had been painted by hoof in fluorescent blue acryllic and pale purple tempera.  The airbrushed diamond design of her normal stage persona was recalled, but not perfectly recreated.  The messy sponge to the side betrayed some unintentional grattage that shaped the characters DJ COL-7 where the acryllic went awry.  The thickness of the tempera diamond in the background varied from thick and dark to pale and near-translucent with no apparent rhyme or reason.  And hanging where it was, the paint was obviously dripping onto the floor, where Vinyl had at least had the common sense to leave some newspaper spread out to catch the drips.  All in all, it looked like Cole had recruited a team of schoolfillies to paint his new tag.

"Get it?  Cole?  Cole-seven?"  Cole grinned, elbowing Octavia in the flank.  "Pret-ty clever, eh?"

Octavia looked to her roommate and gave a weak smile, doing her best to dredge up what warmth she could to keep from revealing what she thought of the very unprofessionally rendered tag.  "It's...  clever, Cole.  Yes."

Well, now I'm sure.  Nopony else can be this sincerely...  dorky.  This has to be my Vinyl.





It had been hours since the party had ended, and the faintest rays of the sun brightened the night sky, the sun hiding sleepily behind the horizon until it could put dawn off no longer.  Octavia had become used to sleeping on Vinyl Scratch's schedule, but she hadn't counted on just how long the lighting and sound rig for Blueblood's party would take to tear down.  She was just about to give up and go to bed when she heard a loud knocking on the door.

Octavia sleepily opened the door to see Cole's backside pushing the door open, two duffels in his magic glow and the largest being towed with his teeth.  "Graph thith," he barked out the side of his mouth, tilting his head so that Octavia could take the handle.

Octavia trotted up and took the handle in her lips, tugging it away so that her roommate could make it into the door.  As soon as the duffels had been set aside and door had latched, however, Cole broke out into an excited dance.

"It.  Was.  Awesome," he grinned smugly, swaying from side to side in giddy excitement.  "It may have been his venue, but I," he pointed to himself, "made it a party."

"So it went well, hmm?"  Octavia gave a relieved smile - then leaned in to take a whiff of his breath.  "Vinyl, have you been drinking?"

"I told you, call me Cole.  And yeah, I have.  Here," he chuckled, floating something out of his saddlebags to her, "Catch up."

"Vi- Cole.  Seriously.  It's way too late in the night to be - is that white zinfandel?"

"Call it a nightcap."  He dug around in the pantry, looking for glasses.  "I figured we deserve a little celebration after living like monks for so long."

After filling Cole's glass, Octavia poured one for herself, but looked at the bottle almost regretfully.  "We really can't afford this, you know.  We still have the rent to consider..."

"Oh, Blueblood took care of that," Cole laughed, hooves tapping to the tune he had just invented.  "He paid everypony what he agreed to..."  Cole grinned widely, and shot his glass back.  "Then he gave me a fifty percent tip."

"A fifty percent tip?  Cole..."  Octavia bit her lip.  "Just how many bits are we talking about, here?"

The unicorn opened his saddlebags.  Three black bags floated out, each over twice as full as the bags from the deposit.

"Enough."  He grinned.

Octavia looked at the wine bottle.  "... I think that calls for another glass."

"That's the spirit, Tavi," he grinned, eyes shining.

Octavia took another sip, enjoying the notes of blackberry on her tongue.  It was very hot, for a wine, but it wasn't as cloyingly sweet as the wines Vinyl usually picked out for her.  At least she knows her wine.  "Cole...  where did you get it at this hour?"

"Oh, it's a gift from from Hoity Toity's stash," Cole said off-hoofedly.  "He gave it to me to seal the deal when he hired me to run the lighting and music for his next show."

"Well.  Seems you're going legit, COL-7."

"Not that you'd know it by the way I was going on."  Cole laughed, pouring himself another glass.  "The stage fillies found out about my spell, so they were hitting on me all the time.  I almost got as much action as Blueblood did."

"Oh?"

"Well, yeah."  Cole grinned broadly.  "I mean, if I'm going to spend my time as a colt, I'm going to spend my time as a hot colt.  So I made sure I got the best shaper to do this.  But it's not like I needed it; I just exude a certain charisma.  I mean, just look at me," Cole grinned, standing at an angle and hiking his tail in a photogenic arch.  "Total.  Stud.  Am I right?"

Octavia forced herself to take a rather long sip before she answered.  "You do have... heh... flanks of steel," she admitted.

Cole laughed, peering knowingly.  "Yeah, you totally want a piece of COL-7," he chuckled smugly.  "So did everypony else.  It almost got me in trouble, too, I got distracted.  Almost had some dead air there."

"Distracted?  You?"  Grateful for the excuse to change the topic, Octavia went to the trouble of pouring another glass, occupying her mouth for a moment.  "I didn't think you had that much free time on stage."

"Well, normally, no," he admitted.  "But every DJ has some long songs in their sets.  It gives you an excuse to check cables, or mingle to get a read on the crowd, or even just water the flowers.  The song I made for Blueblood was over twenty minutes long.  Plent-ty of time for the stage mares to get frisky."

"The song you were working on for so long?"

"Yeah.  Took me forever to do but I got it."

"I hope it was good.  You were a hermit this past week," Octavia teased, her hoof poking Cole good-naturedly in the shoulder.  "And you played so many pieces still I don't know what went into the final."

"Well, that's easy.  I just..."  Cole grinned.  "Nah.  Let me play it for you, it's still queued up on the rig upstairs."

"I'd...  like that, actually."  Octavia finished her glass and set it by the sink.  "Lead on, Mister DJ."

If she's going to be paying the rent for the next few months on this, at least I can trouble myself to learn how she's pulling this off...





It was the first time Octavia had been in the utility room/studio for some time.  Except for where the DJ COL-7 poster had hung to dry, the cellist had to admit it was the cleanest the room had been in months.

"Wow.  I wasn't expecting it to look this nice..."

"Yeah.  Trash, junk, furniture, things like that are distractions.  I needed as empty of a room as possible, so I could keep my mind focused."  With a flick of magic, the rig came to life, dials glowing and the low hum of powered speakers filling the soundproofed room.  "Could you hit the lights?"

Octavia reached for the light switch - then stopped.  "Won't that-"

"I timed a light show, Octy.  No need for both."

"Oh.  Well, that's a nice touch," she laughed, as she turned off the lights to the room.

"Come on, Tavi.  You know my policy," he smiled, as he slid his glasses over his eyes once more, slipping back into his professional stance.  "DJ COL-7 never does things by halves."

The song started with nature sounds - the sound of a low thunderstorm, something of a DJ PON-3 signature - when the sound of a cello cut in.  Three notes on a cello posed a question; six notes on violin and viola gave the answer.  Then, the cello rephrased its question, and another violin and double bass joined the rephrased answer.  The lights pulsed in time, and the whole of the piece gave Octavia the impression of watching a flight of pegasi in flight.

"It's nice," Octavia cooed.  "I did not know you were so fluent with-"

Then the percussion started, a fast subtle drumbeat giving a rapid bass underpinning to the piece, rigid and unyielding compared to the freewheeling movement of the higher strings.  Octavia's mental image shifted from pegasi in formation to pegasi trying to dodge falling rocks, and she murmured softly, not quite finding the words.

Cole turned away from her.  "You don't like it."  Hiss ears fell back, just a little; it was the most emotion Octavia had ever seen the DJ when he had his 'game face' on.

"Wh-what?"  Octavia grimaced and raised a hoof in denial.  "No, it's just fine..."

"You're standing there, motionless."  DJ COL-7 turned his head, his face once more unreadable and professional.  "They don't call it 'cantercore' because it inspires you to stand still."  He shook his mane, and grasped for the power switch with his magic.  "Sorry to bug you-"

"No, it's okay, Cole, really," Octavia said.  She laid her hoof in the path of the main switch, blocking him from flipping it off.  "Please?"

She couldn't see anything in his face through his thick purple lenses, but after a moment the glow on the switch faded.  Octavia nodded, and flicked her ears towards the speakers, listening.  The song had returned to the call-and-answer, but this time all five stringed instruments were playing in unison, the tempo slowing and the ascents and descents of the strings now far less aggressive.  The pegasi in her mind's eye were having a far easier time of it now, darting in and out of a forest.

"I can..."  She focused on the flight of the pegasi in her mind's eye, and started swaying to the music.  She tried to remember her last night at a ball, and the steps to a waltz came to mind.  Instinctively, her hooves tried to match the beats.  Uncertainty, self-consciousness, and the alcohol in her blood all combined to make the waltz nervous and clumsy, and her steps had all the grace of a swimming gryphon.

Cole rubbed his face with a hoof in disbelief.  	"No.  Just...  no.  That's not how you dance.  I know you can do better, Octy."

With a nudge, Cole moved so he could stand in front of Octavia, his white fur changing color in the alternating lamps.  "Dancing isn't just passive.  It's not about reacting.  It's about playing the music with your body, becoming part of it.  Come here," he said, kicking the paintcatchers out of the way to make room.  "Start from this.  Tap the time with your hoof."  He indicated with his own, the heel resting on the floor as the hoof tapped into the ground.

Octavia groused.  "I know how to mark a beat, Cole."  Still, she yielded, and her hoof tapped the time.  It was a simple three-quarters beat, and she could almost hear her hooves disappear into the drumming.

"Now, match the drums," Cole commanded.  "Alternate hooves and divide the beat in half."

She watched his example, and was soon moving in time, her hips in constant motion as her hooves clicked on the floor.  'Playing' the song with her hooves helped her push past the fog of the wine, the musician in her keeping her hoofwork steady, and she was soon readily marching to the beat.

"Good.  Now, get those back hooves moving, too," Cole said, swaying to the beat.  "You're beating time with your hooves, so mark the measure with your tail so your hips move, too.  Clip-clop-clip, Clip-clop-clip."

Nodding, she did as he said, and closed her eyes again, the flashes of red and green just barely visible through her eyes.  She was now the forest, and the pegasi of the violins were darting in and through her, surrounding her in color and motion.  She couldn't help but smile widely, and when she opened her eyes, Cole had stepped closer, and was dancing across from her - and following her lead.

"Great, great," he grinned, peeking a little over his glasses, red eyes sparkling.  "You're at least as good as any stuffed-shirt noble, if not better.  Want to learn some more advanced stuff?"

"Sure," she grinned softly.  Despite their differing tastes, she was enjoying herself.

"Good," he cooed, and stepped forwards to give an encouraging little nuzzle - and giving her a slight blush.  "Now, the head.  Your body's marking the time, so your head can move around with the melody.  Listen to the cello," he grinned softly.  "See if you can move your head to it."

"But I've never heard this piece before."

"Pfft.  Like you need to.  Predict where the melody will go from what you've already heard," he dared, a little toss of his mane.  "Like me."  Cole started to toss his head from side to side, swaying with the measure.  "Keep your motions smooth, don't jerk around too much.  Your hooves got the beat, so let your head take the flow."  His spiky mane was perfect for it; as his bounced with the music, the loose fluff left an aftertrail under the strobes.

Octavia closed her eyes once more.  In her mind's eye, she followed the pegasus that the cello represented, and followed it in its dives and climbs.  Her head started moving up and down instinctively, joining the cello in its flight; for a moment, it was all to easy for her to imagine she was flying, the rush of dancing and wine making her feel light-headed and dizzy.  She gave a nicker, giddily, and opened up her eyes -

- and Cole was right there, his muzzle right beside hers.

"You're doing great," he whispered into them, giving her ear a small nibble.  She squeaked in surprise and missed a beat, before catching up, moving with the stallion once more.

"Now, try closer," he said.  "Club dancing isn't about dancing alone, it's about finding someone to perform with.  I'm going to step next to you, and you just try to keep your measures in time with mine."  Cole looked at Octavia through the side of his purple lenses as he stood, flank to flank next to Octavia, giving her an encouraging grin.  "Ready?  One, two..."

They swayed together, the violins and violas guiding their hips and heads as they moved in time.  Somewhere in the back of her mind, she became aware she was working up a sweat; Cole definitely was.  Octavia was moving to the beat almost as well as the song's composer, but every now and then her hooves would step a little too aggressively or her hips would stay a little too conservative and their flanks would brush, the feeling of white fur on black.  Octavia gave a little squeak, but sighed with frustration.

"Something wrong?"

"I - It's just that we're... touching a lot."

Cole gave a small shrug next to her, a dip in his next sway.  "And what's wrong with that?"

Octavia bit her lip.  "We're supposed to be in harmony."

"And we are," Cole explained, giving a little nuzzle to her neck, his lips gently brushing there.  "A little touch is okay.  We're playing the music with our bodies.  It's only natural that we should find ourselves in...  unison, from time to time."

The music had slowed again, the midpoint of the song, cantercore leading to something with far more trance behind it.  He stage-whispered, "Try it out.  Try to stay in motion, but touch a little more."

She nodded, and blushed.  In her mind's eye, she was the cello to his double bass, trying to stay in flight.  Another of DJ COL-7's signature 'thunderstorms' had broken out, the white strobe brightening once, and she huddled a little closer to him, imagining the two of them as two pegasi alight, flanked in flight by lightning synchronized to the beat.  Then, she nearly clobbered his hoof with her own.

He yelped, but stayed in motion.  "No, not like that.  Don't lead this from the hips, that causes collisions and trips.  Again, use your head."  He smiled, and looked at Octavia with a warm grin, as he moved to step in front of her.  "Try again, babe."

Vinyl Scratch had used 'babe' familiarly before, but hearing it on DJ COL-7's lips sent a little shiver through her.  Putting a hoof's width between them once more, the cellist leaned in with her muzzle, her nose softly brushing the fur of his neck.  She could smell his sweat - the spell had changed him even down to the level of his scent - and she couldn't help but leave a small kiss at the base of his neck.  As she pulled her muzzle back, she kept it in touch with his, nuzzling under his jaw and looking up into those purple lenses.  His grin was warm and honest.

"Just like that."

She gave a little squeak and a grin, and nuzzled up to him again, their necks loosely in touch as they danced together, the fur of their cheeks brushing against.  She nuzzled against his neck - even this seems so much stronger with him like this - as he gave another nibble up against her ear.

"You've learned fast," he said proudly, as he gave a kiss to a temple, pulling back to look Octavia in the eyes.  "If you came to a club and danced like this, you'd pull eyes.  With moves and a look like that, every stallion there would want you."

His hoof reached up to brush her mane away, grinning softly.  "I know I do."





The moment he said it, he regretted it.  Rather than keeping his professional facade, he had allowed himself to grow closer and closer to Octavia, guiding her, teaching her... leading her on.  The giddiness of the evening, and the feel of the fine zinfandel in his veins, had led DJ COL-7 to forget his facade and become the lighthearted goofball Octavia knew as a roommate.  Completely unfiltered, from his heart to his lips.

Octavia's face was unreadable for a moment - and slowly became something akin to horror.  "Tav?"  His voice had risen a register, nothing like the professional voice he used in his act.

Before him, the smaller mare gave him a look...  and rose a hoof up to his shoulders.  She was no longer dancing.  Even through his lenses, he felt those purple eyes could bore right through them, a look of grim determination on her face.

I just hit on my roommate she doesn't like mares oh god I'm going to get kicked out

"I'm sorry, Octavia," he stammered, using her full name.  "It just kind of slipped out-"

Her hoof hugged around his neck as her lips met his hungrily.

Surprised by her forwardness, Cole was caught off guard as the smaller black mare eagerly pushed the kiss.  Her breath was warm and wet against his lips, and had notes of sharp blackberries.  Her eyes darted between his, looking behind that screen, as a perfectly pedicured hoof slid over his chest, affectionately sliding about his fur.

Cole fear slowly gave way to a grin, until he let his kiss meet hers.  His tongue pressed out against her lips and met with no resistance, her own welcoming his in.  One strong foreleg wrapped about her, his other resting on the ground to support them both as she reared up in the kiss.

He hadn't been ignorant of his effect on her - but his smug bravado and experience with the fillies at the gig had misled him, leading him to think that that sort of casual arousal was just something his spell-made body caused.  He never stopped to think about how rare it was for Octavia to show even brief affection, much less be so openly tactile.

She broke the kiss to catch her breath, inexpert but obviously excited at her first proper kiss.  When she spoke again, her voice was so low it was almost a purr.  "Do they do that on the dance floor?"

"Not much," he laughed, and leaned in to nip at the back of her neck, eliciting a throaty groan from her.  "There's a few other things they disapprove of, you know."

"Oh?"  He felt her muzzle up underneath his as she stroked a teasing hoof against his chest, downright tame compared to the feeling of her tongue against his just a moment ago.  "The sorts of things that can be done at ... more private venues, shall we say?"

He snorted in amusement, and looked down at Octavia.  "Some of those," he smiled, as he gently nuzzled over an ear.  They disappeared between beats of a strobe, guiding themselves by touch, by scent.  The music was forgotten - his heart was beating faster than any drum, anyways.

"Maybe you could teach me some of those, too," Octavia purred, stepping back.  She turned, and headed towards the door, looking over her shoulder as she made sure his eyes weren't on hers, but rather, were staring just below, where she waved her tail enticingly.

He couldn't believe the feelings.  It wasn't the first time he had felt himself becoming stirred up - the dancers at the club had made sure of that several times, since his awkwardness had amused both the dancers and the bachelor of the hour - but this was the first time it felt sincere.  He wanted to hold her, to fill her, to wrap her with himself and keep him her and have her.  And the way she had her tail hiked, showing herself off to him with that smoldering look in her eyes, she wanted that much and more.

I've never known her to be so bold.  She's not the kind to be this direct...

His throat suddenly felt dry, recalling the smell of blackberries on her breath.  Suddenly, the past fifteen minutes simply clicked in his mind, recalling the glasses she had sipped as he bragged and swaggered.  She was tired and exhausted, and the zinfandel they had shared had been some of the hottest wine to ever touch DJ COL-7's lips, much less the normally clean demure Octavia.

Unless, of course, she's only horny because she's drunk.

Cole looked down, his demeanor suddenly serious.  "Are we doing this?"

Not expecting such a direct question, Octavia bit her lip, and looked away, uncomfortable with being put on the spot.  "I..."  She brought her hooves in a little in embarrassment.

His voice hardened, and he brought himself up to his full height.  He must have been a hoof's width taller than normal.  "Octavia, yes, I want you.  But if you are not absolutely, one hundred percent sure you want to do this, we stop now.  Are we doing this."





Octavia winced.  She couldn't quite put her hoof on what she had done wrong, but she couldn't take that stare.

I've never seen Vinyl out and out angry before.

Octavia cleared her throat, and turned around, still cowed.

"I - yes, Vinyl, I am okay with this."  She dropped her tail shamefully and turned around to face the colt once more.  "I'm...  not good at this.  But I trust you implicitly.  I have for years."  She smiled nervously.  "If I hadn't, I wouldn't have let you lay your hooves on me to begin with-"

much less those lips those hooves oh what else can you lay on me

"- and yes.  Yes, it has been years since I've...  lain with any colt.  And I definitely am no good at seduction."  She cleared her throat, and tugged nervously on her bowtie.  "But...  I've known you for years, and you've never let me down ... not when you've given your word, at least.  So, more than anyone I know...  I feel safe with you, Vinyl."

Octavia smiled.  "So...  if you're up for it...  then I am."

Cole paused, and for an interminable moment, Octavia hoped their friendship would have anything left.  Finally, when he spoke up, his voice was ragged.  "Well played, Tavi."  He closed the distance between them and laid a gentler kiss on her lips, his hoof brushing up hers.

"Aheh," Cole smiled, his suspicion fading into a sheepish vairation of his usual devilmaycare grin, "My bed or yours?  Yours is nicer..."

"But yours is bigger," Octavia smiled.  She could feel her boldness returning.  "And after all, my dear Cole...  it's my understanding that the stallion has the honor of inviting his mare into his bed first."
> Was die Mode streng geteilt [Clop]
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Octavia bit back harsh words as she entered his chambers.  Well.  I now know where the Artist Formerly Known as Vinyl Scratch hid the mess, at least...

The DJ's room was even messier than normal.  The half that held the storage shelves for all her audio equipment was tidy, especially with half the equipment still being in the hallway downstairs.  The rest of the room, however, had forgotten the 'organized' in 'organized chaos', from the pile of laundry in the corner to the stacks of bills and to-do lists and receipts to the overloaded chest in the middle of the room.

The climb upstairs from the utility room to his bedroom had dampened their fires somewhat.  The cramped confines of utility room had forced them to stay close, and concentrated their scents so that both were overwhelmed.  With bright light and fresh air, they had to face each other.  In sort, it was awkward, and even as they entered his room, the silence was oppressive, a measure of silence breaking the flow of the song.

"So, you have to tell me," Octavia said, as she spread out on his bed, to break the silence.  His bed was the other small nexus of tidiness in Cole's bedroom.  She didn't mean to tease at all, just get comfortable, but when she looked over her shoulder she noticed him apparently studying her cutie mark with great intent.

"Yeah, sure."  Realizing he had been asked a question, he shook his head and looked up.  "Oh, wait, what?  Sorry, Tavi, I..."

Octavia gave a laugh, polite but warm, as she stretched out languidly, for once enjoying a stallion's eyes on her.  "It's okay, Cole, really."  Octavia rolled on her back, looking up to the faux stallion - and demurely holding her legs together, so that his eyes wouldn't catch a glimpse of her too soon.  "Now, tell me:  What's it like being a colt?"

"A colt?  Well..."  He laughed, and rubbed at his neck with an absent hoof.  "To be honest, it's kind of achey."  He looked into Octavia's eyes.  "No shame, okay?  We're two grown ponies, we can talk about this like adults."

Octavia nodded.  "Of course."

"Well...  I kind of...  haven't figured it out yet.  Walking, that is.  To be honest, I'm looking forwards to the spell ending so I can go for a trot again," Cole laughed wanly.

She tilted her head.  "Walking."

"Yeah.  It's..."  Cole grumbled, and turned around.  "Well...  just look at them."  With that, Cole turned, rested his haunches on the bed, and hiked his tail.

Octavia had, of course, seen the like before; even in Canterlot where fancy dress was commonplace, nudity was still ever-present.  But she had been raised up right, and she knew not to stare, not to look.  "They're dirty," her mother had instilled in her, long before she knew that ponies used them for anything but evacuation.

Cole spread his stance as he explained.  "They hang right between your hips, right?  And whenever you walk, they kind of slide about, against your thighs and against each other.  And they're really sensitive so they always send little feelings.  So...  well, I'm thinking that unless it's cold or they're sitting down, a guy's wired to always feel at least a little aroused."

"Really?  Well, that must be nice," Octavia laughed softly.  Her eyes looked over his backside appraisingly, over the bright fur that covered his thighs as well as his...  jewels.

"Ugh, no!" Cole scoffed.  "I wouldn't wish this on anypony.  It's like..."  He bit his tongue, searching for the right words.  "... it's like being really hot for something, ready to go, but you don't know what.  So you calm down because you don't know what it is and can't do anything about it.  But you never quite calm down all the way because you can't act on it."  He groused, "And that's not 'sometimes'.  It's constant.  That's so frustrating I could scream.  Like, when all the stage fillies were tugging me on stage with them.  It was fun and all, but...  we couldn't do anything.  I wouldn't, but they got me worked up, and when you get them so worked up then do nothing, the fire doesn't go out, just spreads elsewhere inside you.  Oh, by the way, that was my state upon waking up, because I toss in my sleep."  He groused.  "And even then, even when you get off that pain goes away for a little while, but before too long it's building up in you again.  It's like...  like you have to get off, now and then, just to keep your mind focused.  It sucks."

"Oh.  Well, that's...  disheartening," she offered in sympathy.  It took a moment for what he had just admitted to to sink in.  "... wait.  You..."  She tilted her head.  "You've already...  done it?"

"Uhm...  yeah," Cole admitted with a blush, climbing up onto the bed next to Octavia.  "Yeah, I have.  Yesterday, it hurt so much I could barely stand...  so I worked it out."

Octavia gave a little grin.  Being this frank was...  refreshing.  "Oh, tell me how that was!"

"Hmm... nah," said Cole, wriggling up and giving Octavia a little nip to her chest, between her forehooves, the kneading of his lips against her making her gasp.  "I plan on showing you soon enough..."

She squeaked softly as his kisses traced up her chest, giving a little sigh as his lips met hers.  Without the driving beat of the music taking them over, it was far more relaxed.  Her forehoof slid up and played with his flank, pulling him gently atop.

He looked at her, curiously.  Then frowned.  With a glint of blue magic, Cole's glasses came off, coming to rest on a shelf like the rest of her DJ equipment.  She had to laugh.  "DJ COL-7 is done for the night, huh?"

"Yeah," he grinned, nuzzling up under her muzzle, red eyes bright.  "Just us."  Gently, his lips came to rest at her neck again.  As she tilted her head back, she felt her bowtie unclasping, and could see it floating away in Cole's magic.  "What are you...?"

"Sshh," he grinned, an impish gleam in her eye.  "It'll be easier to hide later this way..."

"What do you-"  She managed to breathe, before his lips sealed at the base of her neck, at the point just between her collarbones where her tie normally rested.  It was more than a playful nip or kiss, however, as Cole slowly suckled on her skin, making her whinny in surprise.  She could feel him arching slowly against her, his chest sliding softly against hers, smoothing her fur as he slid down and ruffling it up again as he slid up.

"Oh, please don't stop," she gasped, a hoof playing in his mane.  Underneath his lips, the skin was extra sensitive but not yet bruised, and his tongue ran in slow circles just on the border, spiraling in to the sorest, tenderest point.  He watched her as his tongue teased her there, and could feel her squirming underneath him, her body tensing.  Her forelegs were wrapped tightly around him, the knees locked firmly as the hooves slid forcefully against his strong flanks, in time with the little curls of her spine.

"I wouldn't dream of it, babe."  He gave a low nicker as he nuzzled up her neck, softly scenting her.  Her perfume had faded over the day, giving way to a muskier scent, and he took that in greedily.  He didn't even notice the effect it was having on him, but she definitely did.  Beneath him, Octavia bit her lip, breathing in deeply.

Oh Luna...  he's really...  big.  I think.  Or at least he certainly feels that way...

Cole noticed her growing quiet and looked up to her, a hint of nervousness.  "Everything okay up there?"

"Y-yeah," Octavia whimpered, looking down to him and doing a best to flash a smile with her distraction.  "It's just...  I..."  Her eyes darted meaningfully between the two of them.  "I take it you're fully functional."

It finally clicked to how he had spent the last two minutes grinding into her belly.  Between them, his shaft had slipped free.  Once conscious of it, he couldn't get the feeling out of his mind, and how the next push of his hips caused his stallionhood to slide into the soft fur of her stomach, tugging just at the underside.  Cole groaned, and nodded, slowing but not stopping his hips.

"Yeah," he grinned a little, rising up to his hooves again, not quite leaving her grasp.  "I'm a complete stallion," he smirked, cocking his head as he looked down.  "And...  well.  Take a look."

Her head tilted, and she could see her roommate's erection, hanging below him.  It was broader and shorter than it had been in her mind's eye, and its form was almost picturesque.  Probably because he had it designed that way.

"This is...  that's what you do to me, Octavia.  And...  truth be told, you've done this to me for a long time.  Even when I'm not equipped to be so easy to read."

Looking up into those red eyes, Octavia's heart fluttered.  But there was a small problem staring the earth mare in the face.

Oh merciful Luna, there just is no tactful way to say this.

"Erm...  Cole."

"Yeah, babe?"  There was a swagger to his grin.

"Should your equipment be that color?  And glowing?"

Cole blinked, looking down.  "Huh - oh.  Oh."  He laughed a little, and shook his mane.  "Remember, Tavi, it's just a spell, not natural.  My internal magic is what gives it substance.  It looks blue because my magic is blue."

and because I totally didn't think to control for that when I was at the shaper's.  Good thing I'm a DJ and not a professional wiza-ack!

Her hoof had gently rest on the very underside, the same that was overstimulated by being dragged forwards and back 

"Well, it certainly feels real enough to me."

"Tavi, be...  careful," Cole hissed through his teeth, his shaft jumping with his heartbeat.  "That's really sore..."

"Come now, Cole," Octavia purred, looking up, her carefully groomed hooves tracing down the underside.  "You didn't think I was going to let you have all the fun now, did you?"

Cole's hiss became a squeak as her hoof slowly traced back up, feeling his heat against her.  An earth pony had incredible constitution and dexterity, and for Octavia, her coordination was her livelihood and her life; the tracing of her hoof was feather-light as she explored him, tracing over his length.

"Octavia..." he whimpered, closing his eyes and leaning his head forwards.  His breath was slow, but seemed shallow; her hoof slid back up to the tip again, where she circled the flare in the back of her hoof, his bare skin against hers.

As she looked up into his eyes, and saw the way pleasure and no small amount of nervousness played on Cole's face, she couldn't help but think about the last time she had been with a colt.  She had been in college, and he had been just out of it; he was strong and handsome and gentlemanly, everything her paperbacks told her a stallion should be.  They had courted in the old traditional way, and dated as the traditions of her station dictated.  After a few months (for propriety's sake), they had begun making love.  Emphasis on making; the timing, actions, and even the words spoken during sex were as if dictated by some recipe.  Insert Tab A into Slot B while holding Limb C in Limb D.  The sex was informative, to say the least, and almost as perfect as a storybook romance could call for; and for a while, she had thought it was what it meant to be in love.

But that colt - his name was long forgotten - had never looked quite like Cole did right now.  His face has been painted on, a thin smile that never changed, the expression that was only romantic on the cover to a paperback.  His face had never contorted with passion or concern, because that was the way proper ponies conducted themselves.  In stark contrast to that picture of masculine formality, Cole bit his lip and panted with a bright whine as her hoof slid back to the base of his sheath, a tug at the bunched up skin there before caressing those sensitive orbs.

Vinyl - no, he wants to be called Cole - was different.  This was no formalized courting, no storybook seduction; Cole had seized the moment on a whim.  Cole didn't want her because it was a stallion's duty to have a mare below him.  Nor was it because he wanted to give his exotic new equipment a thorough workout.  Cole had made no great plan when he taught her dance.  He just wanted to be with her, and may the fates decide the outcome.

"Lie back."

Cole breathed, the oversensitive stallion whimpering near the edge.  "What...?"

She looked up to him with a smile, and tousled his hair.  "If you want, that is.  I want to try something."

"Okay, babe," he smiled, and Cole rolled onto his back, forelegs tucked against his chest and hindlegs spread wide, the picture of relaxation.  His shaft rest heavily against his belly, completely erect now from her careful stimulation.

"I've heard mares talking about this," she whispered, crawling up against his underside.  "And I think...  I think I can do a pretty good job of it.  But tell me how it goes."

Cole nodded, looking down.  He could see Octavia's violet eyes meeting his, ever cautious.  It was adorable, in its own way, but he felt ire at himself at her caution.  Like she needs permission from me to do anything after I humped her like some drunk frat pony.  "Go ahead..."

Down below, her nose softly nuzzled just under his sac, feeling its weight.  It feels real here, too...  She took a deep scent of his musk there and nuzzled over his shaft, brushing her lips against them, her breath warm under his fur there.  Feeling pleased with his reaction, she continued her way up, teasing with a tongue.

"Careful," Cole gasped, giving a little groan.  "I'm...  really worked up, hon.  You might...  make me...  rrrgh..."

"Is that so?  Well, then," Octavia purred, a devilish gleam in her eyes.  "I wonder what you'll do when I do this..."  Her tongue found the ridge along the underside of his shaft, and gave a languid lick up its stout length.  This touch was far less gentle, as she cradled his malehood with her tongue.

"Oh...  urgh, yeah," he nickered, his pants deep.  Arching back, he pushed his head into the bed, eyes disappearing into his huge blue mane.

Well, the mares at the spa haven't led me wrong yet, she groaned gently, letting her lips trace up.  So we'll just see how my Cole likes this...

She brought herself up to her hooves again, standing atop the reclined unicorn so she had a little more room to work.  He was crying something, but she was a mare possessed, and the content of his words hardly registered on her ears.  Underneath her, his shaft bounced with his pulse, the skin darkening angrily with need.

He looks tender and sore...  well, we'll just have to kiss it better.

Her lips traced the edge of his flare carefully, and she could feel him shudder, his nicker loud and unashamed.  Seeing his hooves hook onto the head of the bed for support sent a thrill through her; she found she enjoyed having that kind of power over him.  Even a little puff of air blown across the oversensitive skin made him groan, and she followed each soft blow with a kiss, the warmth and wetness soothing the sting.

"Octy, you're-"  His pant became a whinny halfway through, and his head tossed, his horn dragging forcefully across the sheets.  "Oh Celestia-"

This wasn't anything like the teasing hooves that had goosed him on stage or the or casual brushes with wings that 'accidentally' slid across him.  Octavia was experimenting, and she was determined, and neither fact lent themselves to mercy.  It certainly didn't hurt that an earth mare had far more experience with her lips than a unicorn ever did.  As she took his tip in her muzzle, she paused, simply enjoying the feel his pulse against her tongue.  And...  the taste.

This isn't so bad.  Bitter and salty, but not nearly as bad as they made it out to be...

Her hoof worked up his shaft as she cautiously began to nurse on his tip.  His breath was growing ragged, and one forehoof managed to stop shaking enough to stroke through her hair and down the back of her neck.  That salt kept flowing, from his tip to her tongue, and her tongue slid about the ridge encouragingly.

As she saw him curl up under her head, his hooves shaking just as hers had moments ago, she gave a soft swallow, pursing her lips to hold the tip firmly, bringing her tongue along the narrow channel that split the flare, gently pushing into it.  Oh, Luna, I think I could come to like this-

"TAVI!"  Her lap along his slit far too much for the overteased colt; he whinnied as his hips bucked up towards her shoulders.  His hooves weakly pulled her down as he shot into her mouth, his spray dense and bitter.

oh the spa ponies lied about this part

Her hoof stroked down as he shuttered once more, giving Octavia another spurt of his musky seed in her muzzle.  This one was far weaker, and his breath seemed to be returning to him.

There's no way I can- I can-

She gently stepped away, leaving him in the vacuum of his release as she stepped into his bathroom.  His bathroom was even messier than his bedroom, but she didn't have time to complain as she emptied her mouth.





On his bed, Cole's release had saved him from the overstimulation, although a dull ache still throbbed.  Tavi had unknowingly tortured him with her teasing.  His heart and breath began returning to normal, shuddering.  A bit of his own seed matted his fur, but he didn't recognize the feeling.  The sound of running water barely registered in his ears.

That was...  so awesome.

When he realized his roommate was gone, Cole groaned and gingerly got himself up out of bed.  Seeing the bathroom door open, he nudged the door open with his horn and stepped inside.  "Octy...?"

Octavia quickly emptied the cup of water in her mouth, the most recent of many.  She had also wet down her mane, getting herself composed again - although that fire still burnt in her eyes.

Man, if only she could know how hot she looks...

"I- sorry," Octavia smiled wanly, as she set the cup to rest.  "It turns out that...  I had been misinformed.  I don't think I'll ever get used to that taste."

"Well, you won't have to.  The spell fades in a day or two, remember?"

Then I go back to being a mare, and you go back to being utterly uninterested in me.

"And it's kind of good you did, too," the DJ continued.  "Things kind of went...  wrong."

"Wrong?"  Octavia followed behind Cole as he led on to the bed

"Yeah.  I...  kind of short-circuited back there."  Cole bit his lip.  "Grown ponies, alright?  I came, but not because it was perfect, but because you were doing so many things to me, with your lips and tongue and hoof, that I was...  well, overwhelmed.  Remember, Tavi, this is all new equipment to me.  I was still just trying to figure out what everything does, then suddenly you crank it all to 11 when I was expecting a 3 or 4.  No wonder everything blew out."  Cole blinked, then grinned at his own double entendre.

Octavia winced, then climbed back onto his bed, looking to him.  "Ouch.  So...  does it still hurt?"

"Yeah, a little," Cole grunted, as he sat down next to her.  Leaning over, he nuzzled a little against her neck, and gave a happy sigh.  With a smile, she leaned up to give a kiss to his horn before nuzzling her muzzle under his, nickering in contentment.  For a moment, they just swayed next to each other, shoulder to shoulder and flank to flank.

Cole wrapped a hoof around hers, and much to his surprise, Octava returned the gesture.  He gave a little squeeze, and closed his eyes.  Celestia, I never want this moment to end...

"Cole?"

Her voice cut through his prayer, and his eyes opened, looking down.  "What is it, babe?"

"Well, the sun is coming up..."

Here it comes.

"... so could you pull the curtains tight?  I don't want this night to end yet," Octavia said, leaning in close against him.

Cole smiled, and nodded, kissing her forehead as his horn glowed blue.  The meddlesome sunlight was blocked out by the drawn curtains and the table lamp was switched off, leaving the room dark save a lee light in the bathroom.

"This better, hon?"

"Perfect."  She leaned in against him, and felt a foreleg wrapping her in the shadows, leaning back into his chest, fur against fur.  She tucked his muzzle up against him again, and gave a soft kiss there, which he returned softly before nuzzling over her neck.  She gave a little squeak at that but let him entwine their nuzzles, swaying together once more.

He truly would make the perfect stallion.





As they rest there, her body snug in his warm grasp, she was acutely aware of his breath on her neck, his scent filling the room.  She couldn't help but imagine him moving against him, his flanks sliding atop hers, his arousal against her...  She gave a little whicker as the thoughts played out, and her hindlegs squirmed.

"Everything alright?"

"More than alright," Octavia cooed, her voice comforting.  "But...  I was hoping you'd do something for me.  If it's not too much trouble."

"Anything," he agreed quickly, a hoof sliding over her flank.  "... if it's not too long, that is.  We eventually need to sleep."

"That we do," she giggled, feeling a little loopy herself.  "I was hoping you would hold me."

Cole blinked. "Err...  Tavi?  I've been holding you since the sun came up."

"That's true," she cooed...  and with a grin, she stood up, stepping out of the bed.  She didn't know how well he could see her black fur in the pale light, but the sight of her tail hiking as she set her hips was unmistakable, and she hoped the look in her eyes was needful enough.  Cole's jaw dropped at the sight, and from the pale blue glow, Octavia could see his interests was piqued.  She grinned softly, and tilted her head.

"But I was thinking something more traditional."

Silently, Cole rose from the bed, leaning close to take a scent directly from Octavia's nethers.  She tensed from his breath on her skin - oh Luna I didn't know it was possible to be this aroused - and couldn't help but bray as his hoof rested on the small of her back, tugging him up atop her.

"Something like this, I imagine?"  Cole whispered into her ears, the DJ's other hoof wrapping about her neck so he could pull himself atop.  His strong body was far heavier than hers, even disregarding the transformation, and she swayed a little in his grasp as he got situated, his hips up atop hers.

And, she realized with a little shiver, his shaft growing once more, now rising between her thighs.

She whimpered as he pushed up, foreleg wrapping her tightly as his hips came to rest against hers.  She could feel his shaft throbbing gently against her belly, against her mound, as his muzzle came to nuzzle her neck.  "Feeling better?" she joked gently, tilting her neck forwards a little so her roommate could have access.  That, of course, was part of the more traditional lovemaking she had learned.

"It's coming back to me," he crooned, his grin audible as he nibbled at the side of her neck.  His hoof around her neck never loosened, but the hoof around her chest slowly slid in small circles on her chest as her breath rose and fell, tracing small patterns in the fur.  Behind her, his haunches had begun to move, slowly, arching his rising shaft.

Oh, this truly is nice, she sighed happily, arching up against him.  It feels even more picturesque than...  uhm...  oh Luna...

Taking advantage of her distraction, Cole had slid a hoof back dangerously low on her belly.  As the heel of Cole's hoof slowly arched at her teats, careful not to brush the sensitive skin with his own cracked nail, he nibbled up under her ear.  "Sensitive there, are we...?"

"Yes, I..."  Octavia whimpered, feeling like she was wilting under him.  "Oh, Luna..."

Her flesh there was weak, in front of the hips but below the firm bands of muscle above, and it gave under his rolling hooves.  His heel rocking against her flesh there stirred her in ways she didn't know possible; more than just flicking of lips or hooves against skin, she was being kneaded, and her entire body was reacting.  "I've never...  ever..."

"You've never?  You should," he whispered, as his heel bottomed out in her again, tugging slowly back up her belly before sliding down for another go.  "It...  won't quite get you off.  But it'll definitely get you in the mood to."  He gave a little pursing kiss to the side of her neck.  "Especially when you can rub it like this..."

Pulling his hoof back up and over her heart, Octavia realized that the tip of his stallionhood was poking up against her, in that same sensitive area as his hoof just was.  When he rocked his hips, the motion dragged his shaft back and forth across the fur there.  The dawny fur of her teats wasn't thick enough to stop skin from brushing skin, and she yelped at the sensation.

"Cole!  I..."

"Sssh," he comforted into her ear.  "It's okay, babe.  I'm here."

"No, it is not okay," Octavia groaned, another husky shudder as he pushed forwards again, his shaft making another tracing path against her belly.  "You've... you've been teasing me to the breaking point, Cole, and..."  She whimpered again as he drew back, moaning.  "I feel like I'm burning up!  I can't take this anymore."

"I need you, Vinyl."

He came to a stop above her, his hooves motionless, not even panting.  For a moment, she wondered if she had said the wrong thing.  The fact that she had flubbed the name again just barely registered when he growled, huskily - "Lie back.  Hips on the edge."

She gave a little pant, and a disappointed little whine as he slid back, off of her.  When she hesitated, however, he leaned forwards and gave her cutie mark a little nip.  "We're going to do this my way."

Because if you regret this tommorow - if this is the only chance I ever have to be with you, Octavia Philharmonica - then there is no way I'll do it without looking you in the eyes.

Octavia nodded softly, and slid up onto the bed.  She gave a low, throaty whine as she sprawled out, but as Cole looked to her, he made a turning motion with a hoof.  "Roll over onto your back, babe...  this isn't the time to be shy."

She swallowed at the implications.  "What do you have in mind...?"  Octavia whimpered, as she rolled onto her back, lifting herself onto her forehooves awkwardly.  Cole smiled, and used a tilt of his horn to spread her demurely-closed knees apart, his muzzle tracing her inner thighs.  More than anytime else in her life, Octavia felt weak and exposed, this stallion who didn't even exist a few days ago now about to mount her.

There was a wild glint in Cole's red eyes, and he grinned maliciously as his front hooves came to rest on the bed to either side of her hips.  "Payback," he cooed, as his lips met her mound.

Octavia gasped and arched back, his lips pursing over her mound.  Her musk was strong there - my, my, Octy, now this isn't very ladylike - and he drank, rolling his lips over.  His tongue kneaded gently there, rising slowly over her mound before descending again, pressing his tongue in just a little on the return trip down.

DJ COL-7 looked up, making sure Octavia was still okay with it.  Octavia wasn't propped up anymore; her forehooves were resting loosely on her chest and her head was tossing slowly from side to side.  He took that as a good sign, but just to be sure...

"How's that, babe?"

Octavia almost managed to squeak a response between ragged breaths.

"Just going with what I know," Cole crooned smugly, his tongue stroking just a little higher.  "For example, if I touch here..."

Octavia's back arched tightly, like a cat's, moaning outwards as he gave her nub a gentle tease.  It wasn't a constant press, but just the occasional soft tap here, before his lips slid down; another tease with his tongue on her nub sending another little shake up her spine.  None of her suitors before had ever graced their lips on her mound, and the feeling was delicious.

Cole rose a little on the bed, but Octavia wasn't free of his lips.  One hoof dug slow circles in the inside of her thighs, little darts in and out in time to the song he had composed, the song Cole had already started to think of as their song.  He nuzzled upwards again, before his lips latched onto her angry nub; a soft whicker resounded through his lips as he tugged upwards again, before pushing down, his tongue lapping there needfully.  I'll show you what it means to be left hanging off the edge, babe...

It didn't take long; she was already on edge thanks to the last two hours they had spent 'celebrating.'  Her musk rose again and again, but each time his lips kneaded it back down into her, his tongue tracing back up.  She shook from his lips, but every time the earth mare rose, her unicorn brought her back down again:  a gentle nibble here, a lick there, lips pursing there, or the teasing trace of a hoof elsewhere.

"Cole...  please!"  Her pant was bright and needful, and almost loud enough to be a scream - her composure nearly lost.  "I can't take this any more...  please, you have to...!"

"Alright, babe, relax."  He shushed as he rose up on his forehooves.  His grin was broad and victorious as he leaned back to show off for her, feeling even for the overstimulation earlier.  Sexy revenge is the best revenge.

"I'm right here."  He waited a moment, both to let Octavia catch her breath and for Octavia to look up to him, before he continued.  As he spoke up, he showed off his body, every muscle, every bone - every needful little twitch.  It was showing off, yes, but every moment in his life was full of showing off.

"This is it, Tavi.  I need you to guide me in, because we're going all the way this time...  okay?"

Octavia nodded with a heavy pant, and let one of her hooves come to rest on his shaft again.  Her groans were replaced by a low hiss as his shaft finally teased directly against her, whimpering.  "Oh, it's more than okay.  It's... oh, Cole..."

In her firm grip, Cole pulled his hips back, letting his tip tease against her belly one last time before he pushed forwards.  His flare refused to give for a moment, and he was afraid he had done something critically wrong, that they just wouldn't fit together -

And then they linked.

For both of them, the evening had been full of teasing and experimentation.  Octavia, because she was unused to sex as anything but the formalized consummation of a courting relationship; Cole, because he wasn't used to having a glowstick mounted between his legs.  Both of them were worked up, and as they finally joined, neither of them could do even as much as speak, their heartbeats racing together and coming into sync, just riding that crest and over it.

Cole was the first to breathe again, a hoof listlessly drawing little notes in the fur of chest.  "I'm...  going to move now, okay?"

Octavia smiled up to him, eyes sparkling with tears.  Her breath was still caught in her throat, but she nodded gently, and took his hoof in hers, guiding it from her chest up to over her heart.  "I-I'm ready," she groaned, her smile warm.

Gingerly, without leaving her, Cole rested his body atop Octavia, forehooves straddling her chest and holding her still as his hips started to arch, fur sliding against fur as he moved in slow, shallow motion.

His lips met hers, and she returned the kiss, carefully wrapping her forelegs about him.  Their breath tangled in the kiss, and it wasn't a slow, sensual kiss - both of them broke it off repeatedly in order to breath or moan out, only for the other to seek it out again, making connections, lips pursing around lips and tongues lapping about edges.

"Octy, I..."  Cole grunted, as the pressure built within him.  It felt completely different this time, however; it was slower, yes, but instead of being rushed to orgasm, he was taking his time, dragging his flare slowly within her, a little shallow stroke before he pushed the fullness of his shaft into her.  He was going to empty completely in her.  "I...  I'm..."

"You must," she whispered, one hoof pulling his head onto her shoulder, as she nuzzled his; she panted over his shoulder, now, as he once more pushed up right into her.  With a hoof over his spine and a hoof over his neck, she couldn't very well arch up anymore, although that didn't stop her from trying; the shaking had to go somewhere, and it went into her hooves, tremulous against his fur.  Around him, Octavia felt like she was being filled with little bolts of lightning; every motion was careful, a tug up or a shallow stroke before Cole moved in again, eliciting another delirious squeak from her.

Oh Celestia she's so cute when she...

Cole felt his mouth go dry for the second time tonight, but not due to fear.  "Octavia...  I..."  He whined, and laid back a fearful little whicker as his tension came to a boiling point, his hoof wrapping around her neck, tugging her muzzle towards hers.  His eyes met hers for a brief moment, and he wanted so much to say just two more words, to admit everything, to bare his heart to her -

And then his world exploded.

To Octavia's eyes, there was nothing left of a mare in the way Cole moved, as his forehooves greedily scooped her up and held her possessively.  Octavia gave a bright gasp, but Cole's scream was deep and sudden - the call of a stallion claiming his mare.  It was all she could do to hold on, to catch Cole as he threw himself on her, to fight through her own fatigue and intoxication and arousal.  His deeper, claming thrusts gave her just enough leeway to come back down to earth as he moved, and her hooves circled around his mane, stroking adoringly.

As he emptied his last into her, he buried his muzzle into her neck, panting deeply.  Words tried to form, but he couldn't do more than groan.  So he did, his hooves slowly stroking over her flanks, alhough one was soon met by hers, holding his weakly.

I never knew it could feel like this...





After a few moments, Cole finally slid out of Octavia's hooves.  A stallion's natural afterglow was dragging him down, but he wasn't out yet, and he slid up onto the bed.

"Thank you, Tav," he nickered, leaning in to kiss her lips.  She smiled and met his kiss gently, almost as tired as the unicorn.  She gave a happy sigh, and nuzzled up under his muzzle...  but then frowned.

Well, now.  Figurative midnight.  Time to leave the ball, Cinderella...

"I...  guess that's it, then," Octavia sighed, as she brought her forehooves up.  She paused there, reluctant to leave the bed, but also feeling it wasn't her place to stay.  Perched on the edge of the bed, she turned towards Cole.

"Cole...  tonight, you made me feel more special than I have in...  years, really."  She smiled wanly.  "You may not look like some storybook prince...  but I think you are, in every way that matters, the gentleman."

She laughed a little.  "Listen to me, waxing poetic when I'm so tired I can't even see straight.  I don't even know if these words are coming out right."  Climbing up and out of bed, Octavia walked unsteadily to the doorway, giving him one last look.  "Good-night, Cole-Seven."

Her head fell as she turned to go.  And farewell, my prince...

"No- wait!  Hold up, Tavi."

She hadn't even taken another step.  When she turned, Cole had reached out a hoof to her, still seated on his bed.  He still looked a mess.  So must I, she supposed.

"It's...  it's late enough as is, anyways.  We're already going to miss most of the day.  So...  if you want, I mean..."  He patted a hoof next to him, inviting her back.  "... our night doesn't have to end yet."

She wavered, hesitant.  Everything about her told her to be detached, be professional.  It was...  an experiment, surely.  A drunken fling.  Just a whim, a kinky little spell allowing two lonely mares to work out some frustrations.

But then, why couldn't she turn away from his eyes?

This stallion Scratch, or whatever he is, will be gone soon.  Maybe even tomorrow.  Are you ready to tell him goodbye forever?

"Well...  I suppose I could stay...  if you insist."  She smiled, and climbed back into bed, sorely crawling up next to him.

Cole didn't miss a beat, and the moment she was in reach, gathered her into his hooves.  Octavia squeaked in surprise, but gave him a content smile, giggling as his hooves vigorously wrapped her and cuddled her.  She looked up and had to grin, seeing his sleepy, goofy grin meet hers, feeling his hoof stroke along an ear.

Maybe I'll be Sleeping Beauty instead.

"Thank you for letting me sleep here, with you," Octavia sighed, as she nuzzled into his chest.  "It..."  Her voice was pitched as if she meant to continue, and there was something thankful and adoring in her eyes, but the tired look in her eyes was soon glazed over by fatigue.  When he kissed her eyes shut, they did not open again.

Cole gently pulled Octavia's smaller form up against him, and cradled her in his hooves, rocking gently.  As sleep increasingly claimed her, and her breath and pulse had stilled.  He waited a few minutes like that, just savoring the feeling of the mare he had longed after for so long being there in his arms.

"You really are beautiful when you let your guard down," he smiled wistfully, a hoof brushing her hair out of her eyes.  She was already asleep, her breath deep and slow, a warm contented smile on her face.  Cole had been up nearly twenty-four hours at that point, which combined with the physical and emotional afterglow to make sleep seem like a fantastic idea.  With a sigh, he cuddled Octavia just a bit closer to him and tugged his quilt up in the grip of his magic, enclosing them together.  He thought he heard the earth mare whisper something, and he rested his muzzle over hers, answering her just before sleep claimed him as well.

"I love you, too, Tavi."
> Lust, tiefer noch als Herzeleid
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

For the first time in what felt like years, Octavia woke up well rested, and even content.  Normally, it took half a bottle of wine and a day at the spa to feel this relaxed; and those didn't come with the wonderful haze of half-remembered dreams and the scent of pleasant exhaustion.  She stretched out languidly, and nuzzled into the pillow under head.  In response, the pillow tugged her back against another pillow behind her, as a third pillow gently wrapped around her chest.

Sleeping in another pony's bed isn't very proper, you know.

Oh, hush, Octavia.  You will be mature about this.  You did, after all, take him up on his offer; it would be uncouth to take to his bed, then panic upon waking up beside him...

Memories of the night before came back to her, like watching an old film.  She remembered dancing in the dark, following his lead and eventually leading him.  The simple joy of learning something new and doing well at it the first time around, the dream of any overachiever.  Her favorite wine on her lips, his touch on her neck and against her flank.  And then...  Cole professed an attraction to her.

At first, the words had rung false.  The words were part of another signature Vinyl Scratch prank, she had thought.  Another cruel little thing the popular Vinyl Scratch was doing to taunt her lonely roommate Octavia.  Even the spell might have been part of the setup, becoming the image of the stallion of her dreams.  But Octavia was not going to take that sort of cruelty from her oldest friend.  Octavia was not some frigid, stuck-up spinster.  She would show him!

Her hoof rested gently over Cole's, giving it a little squeeze, remembering when it first wrapped around her in his studio.  She had pounced him, almost literally throwing herself at him.  Her kiss had been as gentle as a shark's, and her flaunting and flirting the stuff of terrible paperback romances.  She was sure that Cole's words were going to be replaced with a grin or a laugh or even a flat-out insult, the joke having been seen through.  Instead, he gave as good as he got - and better.  When she stopped pretending to flirt and started actually trying to entice him, she wasn't sure.  Eventually this only angered him, and he demanded to know if her flirting was sincere.  In trying to call his bluff, she realized he had called hers.  Well played, Cole.

She hadn't been quite herself, she thought; plied with drink and seduced to the sound of synthesized strings and drums.  But even as she chided herself for being tricked, it felt hollow.  She had, after all, turned the tables on him more than once that evening.   She couldn't claim he was tricking himself on her when she was happily coaxing him, hoping she was doing her part right.  If she had been coerced, she wouldn't have put such a production into asking him if he was ready to go again.  And at the end their night together, when he invited her to stay, she did.

I didn't want to wake up alone again.

Her embracer cooed softly into her ear.  No...  hummed.  A spontaneous melody, while one hoof traced slow circles in the fur of Octavia's chest, dips marking the measure.   He made music even in his sleep.  He was warm around her, and she wriggled back against that warmth, which was rewarded by being held even closer.  She sighed softly and closed her eyes, hoping the morning wasn't coming soon.

For a while, she simply contented herself with feeling his breath on her neck, and his embrace around her.  The relaxation continued, and soon the cellist dozed off again, enjoying fleeting dreams for a time.  After a few minutes of restful peace, the feel of a hoof sliding lower on her belly roused her, gently ruffling the fur there in small circles.

So early, Cole?  You are a beast, DJ COL-7...

The touch she tensed for never came, however; it stopped just under her ribcage, stroking slowly.  She relaxed under his touch and gave a content little nicker, letting her head rest heavily once more onto his foreleg.  His muzzle rested over her head as he tugged her a to his chest, murmured something into her ears.  "Tavi..."

She flicked her ears back, and frowned.  That sounded...  odd...

She didn't want to wake him, so her eyes flicked forwards towards the shelves of audio equipment.  In the reflective dome of a speaker, she saw her own reflection - and the pony wrapped around her.  It was almost the same as the pony in whose arms she had fallen asleep.  The differences, however, were subtle.  His chest was no longer as big.  The jaw was smoother and rounded, not angular and broad.  The flanks were far less powerful, and the hips and belly were far pudgier, betraying a life of regularly stumbling into Waffle Taco after midnight because it was the only thing left open when the clubs were closed.  In short, the spell that created DJ COL-7 had dissipated, and the DJ was Vinyl Scratch once more.

Well.  That does... complicate matters, now, doesn't it?

She smiled wryly, and gave the foreleg around her belly a gentle squeeze under her own hoof before she started to climb out of bed.  She brushed over Vinyl Scratch's mane, getting it out of her eyes; in return, the white mare nickered and smiled in her sleep.

Good morning, Vinyl.  At least we found a way to keep you from tossing in your sleep.





It was some time later when Vinyl Scratch woke up.  Her head was pounding harder than her beats, and her vision was still blurred, so for a few minutes, the world simply spun.	This wasn't a new feeling, and she lay back in bed, groaning softly.  Irritably, she chucked a pillow off the bed and into the corner.  The stack of books the pillow flew into had nothing to do with the throbbing in her head, as it turned out, and they fell over irritably.

She grumbled, trying to count the drinks she had had over the course of the night.  "How come I never remember this part..."

As she sprawled out again, a leg fell into where the mattress should have been.  The depression was still warm, and it still had the scent of another pony there.  In the haze of sleep, Vinyl slid her hoof across that odd depression.  It took a few moments before her mind caught up.

I didn't go to bed alone.

Memories of the night before tumbled out of her sleeping mind, with a few intense ones foremost and the rest struggling to link in the right order.  The first memory, of course, was when they joined together, when she felt what it meant to be a stallion, and the voice of Octavia's high-pitched pants in his ear.  The next memory was feeling her fall asleep before her eyes, her body becoming still, a little smile on her lips.

On the rush of a job well-done and well-paid, he and Tavi had split a bottle of wine.  Octavia, as Vinyl well knew from the one attempt they had at a bar crawl together, was a two-drink mare; she was well into her third by the time Vinyl had invited her into her 'studio'.  Vinyl, herself, had had enough that when Octavia said 'yes', she hadn't questioned it.  She didn't even stop to think why a mare who had never shown even a bit of interest in her would suddenly be all over her like she was made of chocolate - 

No, brain!  Stop!  Don't think about tha-

Too late.

Then again, that particular image was improbable.  Even when Vinyl Scratch had been brave enough to hit on Octavia, the cellist had completely failed to catch on the fact that she was into her - or, worse, derided the DJ for being childish.  And so, Vinyl Scratch was content that her old friend was as good a friend as ever.  Neither of them had done particularly well in finding anyone, but she hoped that even when they both had found their special someponies, they'd still be be the same music geeks they always were.

And then, she had to go and ruin that.

Vinyl ground a hoof against the base of her horn and sighed.  "Man, I bucked up..."





The single bathroom in their apartment was cramped; it had a tiny washbasin, a small toilet, and a small shower-tub.  Lying down in it was almost impossible, but Octavia was doing her best to do just that, curled up as the water came down.  Her routine was to quickly rinse her mane and brush out her fur, then dry off and tend to her hooves; but for some reason, as soon as the hot water soaked through her fur, the sensation just overwhelmed her with how good it felt.  Octavia simply stretched out under the water, unwilling to do anything but feel the water beating down.

After a few moments, she rolled over, and the spray hit her in a sore spot on her neck.  Octavia bit her lip as she recalled just how she had got that bruise on her neck - how she had squirmed getting it.  Even then, she could still remember the feel of his weight sliding atop her, busily nibbling her there.

Vinyl peeked from behind the curtain.  "What's wrong, Tavi?  Are you feeling alright?"  The unicorn wore a bold little grin.  "Sure you don't need any help?"

The face in her memories of Cole refused to be different from the face of Vinyl Scratch.  His cocky smirk, his confused squints, the grins and laughs that could burst out at any moment, the professional pride when his glasses went on - the voice and the lines had been different, but the pony behind them was pure Vinyl Scratch, through and through.  Even now, as her hoof slid down her belly and she thought a bit more intently about how it had felt to have him moving atop her, the face in her mind's eye refused to change.

The white mare slid into the shower, her mane falling wet to her sides as she stood, straddling Octavia and looking at her neck.  "I see the problem here - it's uneven all over," Vinyl purred mischievously, the DJ's lips sliding just under her chin.  "Luckily for you, I know how to smooth it out..."

Octavia whimpered just a little as she slid her hoof about, trying some of the things she had learned the night before.  The DJ that had taken her, versus the roommate she teased and argued with and the friend she had grown up with; she wanted there to be some difference, something that set them apart.  And she didn't want any of them to be the pony she couldn't get out of her mind, the blue-and-white unicorn that she was imagining helping her put her talented hooves to good use...

There was a quick rapping at the door, and the cellist froze mid-stroke.  "Hey, Octy?"  Another set of knocks.  "You've been in there a long time."

if I say even a single word she'll know

There was a slow creaking just outside the shower, and the voice was now much clearer and much more concerned.  "Do you need any help?"

oh hayseeds I didn't lock the door

The door shut quickly in Vinyl's face, stubbing her hoof, followed by the squelching sound of something wet landing just behind the door, followed by the rattling sound of a curtain rod being pulled free.  Octavia yelped out from her landing, but whinnied in response.  "No, really, Vinyl, I'm fine, everything's just fine here, how are you?"

"Oh-kay..."  Vinyl muttered something about her hoof and trotted off with a slight limp, and Octavia sighed in relief, freed from having to answer questions about why she was hoofing off so early in the morning, and to whom.

Crisis averted, for now.





A DJ's life is based on residencies:  land a gig at a club you can go to every month, and not only do you advertise, but you can count on that income.  Most professional DJs built up their residencies bit by bit, as they worked for the day they had a club to call their own.  DJ PON-3, however, only had the one - the Wednesday Wubs at the club Monochrome - and letting even a minute of dead air hit the club would ensure that somepony else would land her gig.  And, thanks to the events of the night before, she was late.

Vinyl Scratch paced outside the door, impatiently tapping a hoof.  She could already see the club's owner Vainglory ripping up her contract with a contemptuous little laugh, and Vinyl grimaced.  "Come on, Tavi!  I gotta get moving here!"

"I'll be right out," Octavia said.  "Just gotta get this hung... up... again..."

Vinyl's hoof ran over her face, and she sighed.  Breakfast instead, then.

Grumbling, Vinyl opened the icebox and searched for any leftovers.  Finding a box full of cold hay fries with cheese and gravy, she laid it on the table and opened it, eating directly from the box like a trough.  Eating right out of the bowl was brutish and uncouth, and Octavia positively hated it when Vinyl did it.  And if she doesn't like it, she can get out of the bathroom already and say so.

The hangover and the shower issues were making her irritable enough, but she just couldn't stop thinking about last night.  More than just getting off together, she had loved Octavia finally returning her attraction.  But even though they had finally slept together - as awkward and full of missteps as it was - all her thoughts kept returning to the same point.

Would you have even taken me seriously, Tavi, if I had been a mare when I told you how I felt?  Or did you just need a rutting so bad that you'd now try a round with your old friend?

It was illogical and unfair, but she couldn't keep the feelings from welling up inside her.  When Vinyl chucked the leftover container into the bin, the crumbled paper made the can rock back, and she caught it with her magic before it spilled everywhere.  It still managed to knock into the kitchen table, some scattered records falling to the floor - with the sound of a crack.

First your friendships, now your place.  What else are you going to ruin today, Vinyl Scratch?  Your job, maybe?

Vinyl trotted over and banged on the door.  "Tavi, come on - I needed to be out five minutes ago!"  When the response wasn't immediate, she grumbled loud enough to be heard through the door.  "You know what?  Nevermind.  I'll go without."

Running up to her room, she grabbed the only thing she needed - her trademark shades.  On her way back down the stairs, she heard the shower finally turn off, and a half-dried Octavia with a towel still around her shoulders met her at the foot of the stairs.

Oh Celestia, she's extra hot with her mane wet-

"Vinyl," Octavia spoke up expectantly, raising a hoof to grab her attention, trying to meet Vinyl's gaze through the lenses.  "I'm sorry I took so long in there.  I just had - had something on my mind -"

"Sorry, Tavi - I have to get to out Monochrome like now," Vinyl grunted.  "I-"  She snorted in frustration.  "Look, we'll talk tonight, okay?"  And with that, the unicorn trotted out, the door shutting a little too hard behind her.

"... and I was hoping we could talk."





Having slept through most of the day, Octavia was a free mare.  She didn't have practice that evening, but she was tutoring later in the morning, and she had to stay awake through until the little colts had been taught their share of musical history.  So, as she set a pot of Saddle Arabica brewing in the coffeemaker, she had nothing to do but think.

So where does this leave us?

Octavia looked halfheartedly over their pantry as she thought to Vinyl storming out.  Obviously, something was on her mind, something more than just frustration at being late.  This wasn't the first time the DJ had had a close call in her short career at Monochrome, but she had faced every other potential tardy with a grin and her trademark swagger.

We went to bed together happy, right?  So why did she wake up so sour?

The last she had seen of Vinyl Scratch - before meeting her at the staircase, that is - the DJ had been sleeping happily, splayed out with all the grace and self-awareness of a discarded sock.  It was that...  lack of pretense that Octavia loved most of all; the ease she slipped out of her role to just live on her impulses.

Maybe I'm worrying over nothing.  Maybe whatever she was so worked up about isn't even something related to... us.

Us.

That thought bounced around her head, teasing at the corners of her mind until she had to confront it: the way she thought of Vinyl had changed.  Before, she thought of Vinyl Scratch as an old friend to split the rent with; they were, essentially, two independent mares, living two independent lives, that intersected at odd times.  Now, she was thinking of Vinyl the way she thought of a date or suitor.

A suitor who was very good with her lips.

"We haven't even had a date yet," she groused aloud, as the coffeemaker popped up its lid to show it was done brewing.  Taking the pot in her hooves, she emptied a generous amount into a coffee mug, adding lots of cream and a little sugar.  "And here I go, thinking about-"

walking together - dancing with her at the club - finding fun ways to wake her up - just one more kiss

"- going out with her."

Then again, for all their similarities and their shared passions, they were different.  Vinyl had an "on" and an "off;" at the push of a button she went from calculated and obsessive over minute details, to a layabout with the impulse control of a bored squirrel.  Octavia had an "in" and an "out"; a neurotic perfectionist on the inside kept hidden under wraps of propriety and manners and the finer social graces.  Neither meshed quite well together, but decades of friendship allowed them to trust each other with what they were really thinking - arguments could be free and open without affecting their friendship.  Would that work if we were - well - fillyfriends?

Octavia took her mug with her to the couch, and rested it between her hooves, sighing.  I wonder what mother would say.

The first words out of her mouth were a mockery of her mother Viola's proselytizing tone:  "No Philharmonica has ever been a fillyfooler."  Her mother had never actually said those words, but she could imagine the disparaging tones in her mother's voice as clearly as she remembered everything else she had heard in that tone.  But as she thought about it, another one of her mother's moralizing lessons came to mind.





Viola Philharmonica had been an old gray nag before the color gray had been invented, little Octavia was sure.  Her mommy was always grumpy about things and was really really mean when she was teaching.  But she had never heard mommy yelling at daddy before.  This scared Octavia, and the filly had spent the morning crying in bed, wondering if she had somehow made them fight.  But a filly's boundless hunger drove her out of bed and to the kitchen, where her mother was busying herself at the table with her boring paperwork.

"Momma?"

"What is it, dear heart?"  There was little warmth in her voice.  Every word was clipped, the syllables ending as soon as they could so that the rest of the sentence could hurry up and get out of her mouth.

The small grey filly looked up, her eyes long since dry from running out.  "Why don't you love daddy anymore?"

The quiver in her voice surprised her mother before he words did, and she turned around to face Octavia.  When she had fought with her husband Strum Picker earlier that day, she had been certain that their children were snug in bed.

"Whatever gave you that impression, darling?"  She climbed down out of her seat, looking to her daughter with worry.  "Mommy loves daddy very much."

"But you were shouting with him and saying mean things," Octavia whimpered.

"I-"  Viola sighed in frustration, and shook her head.  "Yes, Octavia, we were fighting, and it was stressful, so Mommy said some things that - weren't fair.  But we had to say them so that they could be said, and so we could stop arguing and start answering."

"You still love daddy?"  There was hope in her face, and her eyes seemed bright again.

"Very much so."  Viola looked down to her daughter, and sighed.  If Octavia was old enough to question love, she was old enough to learn more about it.  "Do you know why I married Strum Picker, Octavia?"

Octavia tilted her head.  "... because you love bluegrass?"

Viola snorted.  "Quite the opposite.  I can't stand it."  The older mare gave a sly little grin.  "Do you want to know the real reason?"

Eager to share in a conspiracy, the little filly bounced in place, nodding vigorously.

Leaning in, Viola whispered into her daughter's ear, "Because your father knows how to be bold when I can't."

Octavia tilted her head.  "But...  why does that mean you love him?"

"Because he balances me out, dear heart."  Viola smiled.  "I can balance him out when he's gone to far, and he can pull me out when I've not gone far enough.  And if that means we have to fight sometimes - well, at the end of the day, it's worth it.  For both of us."

Viola smiled wistfully, and pulled her daughter close as she picked her words carefully.  "If you...  if you abandon everything I raised you to be - if you go off and become a-a carpenter in Trottowa - you remember this, Octavia Philharmonica."  Her mother sat down in front of her.  "Do you remember what I taught you about the oenophile's quandary?"

"Going without unnecessary things for as long as possible means you have more appreciation of what you have once you decide to enjoy them," Octavia recited from memory.  It was a phrase she mostly understood.  "But why is that important?"

"Because there are nuances I haven't taught you yet.  When it comes to love, the oenophile's quandary is wrong.  Time makes many things better, yes - wine ages, interest compounds, and stories go on - but a life without love doesn't make the love you find later better.  It just means you lived your life not learning how to cherish the love you've found."  Viola smiled, and ran a hoof over Octavia's hair.  "When it comes to love - seize it, Octavia.  Seize it and cherish it, and if it ends mourn it and honor it, but never regret risking your heart on love."

"Love isn't..."  Viola bit her lip, and for a moment, Octavia thought her mother might be about to cry.  "It's not about finding the perfect pony who you never argue with, who you always make happy, and spending the rest of your life together waiting for the gates to the Elysian fields to open up.  There are no fairy tales in this life."  Viola gave a soft smile, her ears twisting to listen to the hallway, where she could hear her husband's hoof clicking; she knew that her youngest daughter, Greensleeves, would be awake now, and Strum Picker would be bouncing the little foal on his knee, waking her up and making her happy so Viola could sleep in.

"Love is about finding someone it's worth making mistakes with.  Tenderness, fidelity, forgiveness, passion, all are nice, but when things go wrong - and they do, Octavia - love means you both care enough about each other to want to make it right again."





Well, now, that's the question, mother.  I've already made my first mistake with her.  She drew in a deep breath, then sagged.  Am I about to go make another?

Octavia looked into her coffee.  Her coffee, however, refused to offer any insights, and instead just swirled around the mug like nature intended.

"Well, you're no help."
> Aber lautlos meine Seele folget ihrem neuen Herrn [NSFW]
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Early in her life, Vinyl Scratch learned her easily distracted personality needed a firm counter; something to keep her dedicated to her studies.  That's when her glasses came into her life - the original pair the result of saving her bits an entire summer long.  They were more than custom lenses; they were a promise to herself.  Whenever she had them on, she would work as hard as she could one single task; whenever she got distracted or dropped below what she felt was her best work, she took them off.

It only took one more summer to train herself to use her glasses as a focus.  That was the summer she learned how to mix a song, the summer she learned how to make songs work in concert, the summer she learned how to work her first crowd.  With her glasses off, she was a party animal; with her glasses on, she was the party's heart.  She got her cutie mark two years later, but that was just a formality; she already knew who she was meant to be.

Those years of self-trained restraint and focus were the only thing keeping her from lashing out and breaking something.  That, and all the hills she had to climb.

Vinyl Scratch was just another spikey-maned mare in a crowd, but as DJ PON-3 she was recognizable in the street - at least, among the clientèle.  Whenever someone waved a hoof at her, she would give her widest, most forced grin possible, never breaking stride long enough to speak to the person greeting them, or even figure out who they are.  Just constant motion, a spirited trot just below breaking out into a run.  The constant climb of Canterlot's rolling hills was just what she needed in order to keep her mind off of

her lips around me - her eyes looking up to mine - feeling her nuzzle into my chest - those three damn words-

No.  Don't think about this.  Keep it together, Vinyl.

Coming up to a crest, Vinyl took a moment to catch her breath - then broke out into a trot.  Having her own body back was comforting.  Just the night before, the thought of running would have been impossible; she hadn't quite figured out walking around as a stallion.  Even just the steps around the turntable the night before had been aggravating, the motion constantly making her hips tease against her equipment.  It went from tense to annoying to infuriatingly overstimulated within the span of a few minutes.

Which was nothing like that delicious tension they got when you wrapped yourself around her neck and bounced your hips against her -

Don't start this now.  Just get to work.  Rock the place.  Clear your head.

DJ PON-3 gave a little snort.  She could figure out her best friend, roommate, and possible drunken fillyfriend later.  For now, the club was expecting the fastest beats Canterlot law would allow, and DJ PON-3 always delivered.





Stay awake.  That's all I have to do.  Just a few more hours.  It can't be that bad.

In just ten short hours, three little fillies and one older colt would be on her doorstep bright and early, expecting her personal tutelage in the finer points of a musician's craft.  Any other day, their eager faces and rapt attention would be something she could look forwards to, the high point of her week.  But that was the entirety of the night away, and this night, there would be no forcing sleep for her.

She looked at a clock.  She had been awake for...  what, two hours at most, now?    It couldn't even have been that.  Normally, she would have risen with the sun, but she had been otherwise preoccupied at that time.  Now, Canterlot was already starting to roll up its carpets, and Octavia had no idea what to do.  She briefly considered drugging herself to sleep with wine and, but then thought otherwise of it.  Anything powerful enough to knock her out would also keep her sleeping until morning and straight through the meeting she had planned.

Besides, the only wine in the apartment at the moment was white zinfandel, and she couldn't even think of a blackberry without thinking of him.

Her.  Him.  I'm not even sure anymore.

What was it she had to teach her students, anyways?  Her students were on different levels, but they had grown competent enough that she could create one lesson plan and adapt it to the different styles of each of her students.  She vaguely recalled the oldest was moving into the more theoretical forms of music, composing not with a child's enthusiasm but with an adult's deliberate care.  That one was Octavia's proudest success; he had not only learned the mechanical and historical pinnings, she had given that student a drive to do better. 

And for some reason, Octavia couldn't remember her favorite student's name.

She turned her attention away from her studies, and took another deep sip of her coffee, staring balefully at the bottom of the cup.  She tried to think back to her lesson plans from the week before.  Last week she had done...  a study, yes.  A study of...  that composer.  The one with the odd cutie mark and the...  the hair.  She had assigned them a single page report, each on a different aspect of the composer's life.  And now she couldn't recall the composer's name, either.

"This is going nowhere," she grumbled bitterly.  Her stomach was empty, yet she had nothing handy to eat; her coffee pot was empty for the second time; and no matter what she turned her attention to, she couldn't think.

Maybe I just need help.  Yes, that could do.  Obviously, my attention is being torn into too many directions at once.  She sighed softly, and set her coffee cup in the sink.  I need.someone to lend a hoof.  Maybe Beauty Brass or Harpo...  no, neither of them are available on a Saturday.  Lyra's moved away.  Frederic's no good with fillies...

Octavia sighed as she rummaged with the sink, mechanically cleaning the dishes.  Then, there's Vinyl.  Or Cole, if that's how I find her.  She's definitely great with kids, but...  She looked at herself in the reflection of a spoon.  "But she's probably still mad at me.  Over...  whatever this is."

Octavia looked into the empty room.  In a few short hours, there would be students there, students expecting the finest in instruction, and Octavia was as nervous as a schoolaged filly.  This... this lesson would be so much easier if she was here.

But if she were here...

Giving a sigh, Octavia heaved up from the sink, and headed upstairs to fix her mane.  She was going to need to look her best.

"Well, there's nothing for it.  I'm going to have to resort to drastic measures tonight..."





By the end of her run, Vinyl found herself much calmer, much more like herself.  The set she had in mind for the night was was already playing out in her head, and her overactive mind was already making changes.  DJ PON-3 was going to make this Canterlot's rockingest night of all time.

Monochrome's single security guard looked up from his tiny booth beside the doorway.  A cheeky smile rose as he recognized the DJ of the night.  "Punctual as usual, miss," he smirked, as a back hoof pressed the button that opened the door.  His abrasive manner was familiar, at least.

"Heh."  A well-practiced devil-may-care laugh sounded, DJ PON-3's voice betraying what Vinyl wasn't in the mood to explain.  She was about to step inside ...  when a small frown appeared.  "Yo, Beat Stick."

"What's up, PON-3?"

"Listen.  I'm expecting trouble tonight."

"Trouble?  You?"  The fluorescent orange security guard reared up and covered his heart with his hooves, as if in shock, feigning a thick faletto accent.  "Why, DJ PON-3, I never thought you would cause any sort of ruckus..."

"Har de har har.  Seriously, I need you to be on the lookout for some pony."

With their usual banter, he was expecting that to have been the setup for a gag - but she wasn't joking around.  With a sigh, he flopped back down, and nodded.  "Alright.  Who is it?"

"My roommate, Octavia.  We had a fight this morning and, knowing her," Vinyl puffed, "she'll probably try to bring it here."

Beat Stick frowned.  A personal fight probably would make more work for him.  "Ah.  I take it that Octavia wears a shirt that says 'I'm DJ PON-3's Roommate' on the side, then."

DJ PON-3's shades hid her rolling eyes, but Beat Stick knew Vinyl's personality too well, so he waited for her to subvocalize any cutting remarks she had.  "Short.  Round.  Dark grey.  Short black hair, she always keeps it slicked back.  Cutie mark's a pink treble clef."

"Short, grey, and with a treble clef.  I think I got it."

DJ PON-3 lifted her glasses up and over her head, and shot Beat Stick a smile - strained but genuine.  "Thanks, Beat Stick."  With that, she entered her domain.

With the lights up, Monochrome looked like a completely different place.  So much of what made the club seem so small and inviting and secretive was the careful use of bright and dim to divide the room into 'corridors' and 'stages'; with all the lights up, you could have been excused for thinking Monochrome was a bar built into a mostly empty warehouse.  A raised platform on one end served as the AV closet and podium in one.

Climbing a semi-hidden staircase behind the bar, Vinyl slipped up to the owner's office.  From there, Monochrome's owner Vainglory would look down on his club, making sure his investment was going to good use.  Although his name was listed on the business cards, most ponies in the club knew very little about him; and he encouraged the rumors, to increase the mystery and his privacy.  It was said that Vainglory had all the systems wired into his office, so he could control anything with the flick of a switch.  It was said he had a secret entrance so he would never be seen entering the same doors as the common rabble.  It was said he had mirrors installed on the ceiling for his private jam sessions."  And was said that he had peepholes installed in the floor so he could look at the bar under his office and make sure the bartenders were keeping the till correct.  Having been there a year, Vinyl knew which two of these were true.

Looking down onto the dance floor from the hidden electrical panel, Vinyl threw a lever, bringing the mains online.  The daytime bulbs dimmed switched off as focus lights cut across the dance floor from carefully recessed lamps, turning the club into a pattern of bright and dark.  Vinyl nodded, satisfied - everything was coming to life in good working order.  There was just one piece of business left to take care of tonight.  As she locked up Vainglory's office, she took a deep breath-

"HEY, SKEETS, ANT!"  Vinyl shouted, knowing the two 'technicians' that ostensibly kept Monochrome running would be slacking until prodded.  "I've got a special project for you two tonight!"

The sound of terribly hidden whispers and poker chips being shuffled away was quickly followed by scampering hooves.  Two ponies - a tall, lanky yellow pegasus, and a taller, muscular earth stallion about the size of your average buffalo - came running in.

"Eh, you called, Vinyl?"

The white unicorn grinned.  "Yeah.  First - everything check out today?  Light lines, sound lines, everything's in good working order?"

"Eeyup," the larger stallion agreed.  "Everything's ready and waiting."

"Great!  Because tonight, I've got a special project for you.  I need you to go downstairs and retrieve-"  She lifted a key from around her neck with great fanfare, levitating it to the taller of the two with a smirk.   "- my personal gear."





Octavia looked at the door.  For a moment, she thought about heading back - it wasn't too late, she could just stay up all night and wing it, after all - but shook her head.  She had made a plan.  She had committed; now came execution.  She knocked on the large door, the old wood making deep resounding beats with each slap of a hoof.

No answer.  One moment became two, became three.  Behind her in the street, the darkness was starting to overtake Canterlot, lamplighters racing the sunset and sneaking a spark in before the wind rushing between the buildings could snuff the flames out.

Octavia was just about to turn away when a well-dressed pony answered the door.  He was unfamiliar to Octavia, and wore the frown on his face like a general might wear their stars.  "Yes...  can I help you?"

"Ah... yes," Octavia stammered, before bringing herself to her full height, trying to clear her throat surreptitiously.  "Are Master Bluebell's parents home?"

"They are indisposed at the moment," the butler answered stiffly, looking down at the porch landing as if he were staring at a particularly distasteful bug.  "I would be happy to pass along a message."

"Ah.  Well, please inform them that I will not be able to tutor their son tomorrow."  Octavia gave an awkward, apologetic smile.  "Personal issues have come up."

"I will tell them," the butler responded.  Without another word, the door closed.  Although it had not been slammed in her face, the sound of old brass latching inside the old wooden door was clear.

"Thank you," Octavia groused towards the closed door.  Once she was sure the butler had stepped away, she shook her mane out and hung her head.  Sometimes I just don't know why I put up with this city.

Looking at the skyline and seeing the sun falling ever closer towards the horizon, Octavia begrudgingly lifted her hooves and started towards the next house.  Just two more houses to go...





With her glasses off, Vinyl looked out over the club and had to grin.  It was a good turnout tonight - and they were all here to see her.  The bar was selling drinks, ponies were bouncing in the floor, couples were flirting off in the corner, and the mood was energetic.  They came to have a good time - and they knew she could deliver.  This was always a great way to start a night.

A few moments ago, she had queued up a high-energy dance song into the club's standard Top 40 rotation - not one that had been off the charts long enough to bring offense, but one that carried the message that the beats were about to pick up.  As the high-tempo song started off, Vinyl's magic expertly manipulated her rig from across the room, crossfading from the dance remix of a boyband's latest chart-topper to her electronica standard.  A few excited calls rose above the crowd as the song started up - at least a few souls here had come for her music - and the dance floor only got more crowded as ponies exited the corridors and entered the dance space.

This day was going to be perfect.

Switching her glasses onto her head, Vinyl dropped back into her stage persona.  Another set of cries and appreciative hoofstomps shook the club as she climbed onto the podium, giving a wave as she set the final bridge to automatically repeat on low, the driving beat underpinning her words.

"Good evening, Monochrome!"

She waited as the roar of applause started to taper off before she continued.

"Another Wednesday, another Wubsday.  Middle of the week, and we are feeling it, am I right?"

A roar of agreement sounded through the club. All eyes were on her, and she flashed a calculatingly smug grin as she spun.

"We've all brought in frustrations, we've all brought in stresses, and it's time to get free!  Everypony's got some kinks in their stride to work out, don't we?"  Not bothering to listen to the affirming call, DJ PON-3 twisted her hips just so (knowing full well some eyes would follow it) as she walked over to the center of the podium, leaning over a pile of machinery.

"That's why I've got something special tonight.  Monochrome, give me a rumble!"

As the calls became hooffalls, DJ PON-3 lifted her hooves up high, daring the club to rise with each hoof thrown skywards.  After two more calls, the rumble from their stomps grew into a deep rumble that shook the building like an oncoming thunderstorm.

"Tonight! It's a Club Monochrome debut!  I'd like everypony to give a warm welcome to..."

With a theatrical smirk, DJ PON-3 spun around, making sure to exaggerate the way she bucked backwards to hit the head-high power switch, the lights dimming in the club for just a moment as the machine sucked down the building's power like a hungry dragon-

"- my BASS CANNON!"

The "cannon" unfolded before the club, the neon around each speaker matching DJ PON-3's mane, lighting in two-tone electric blue as an unknown colt narrated an old slogan - the opening to a song far deeper than Monochrome's usual fare.  The "cannon" blinked in time, cobalt blue rising and falling with the bass pulse.

They're asked for the wubs, Vinyl smirked behind her glasses.  And by Celestia, I'm giving 'em!

The beat soon dropped yet again, becoming a deeper, driving rhythm - not as fast as her usual fare, but the ponies in the dance club soon found the rhythm with their bodies, stomps and sways of the body replacing the usual high-energy cantering that graced the dance floor.  Along the edge of the club, a few ponies weren't joining in, a few peeling off with looks of disappointment - and for a few, of disgust, as the dancing shifted from the relatively 'clean' high-energy cantercore to the much more openly sexual dance moves associated with proper dubstep, hips bouncing in time and ponies pairing off on the dance floor.

DJ PON-3 grinned, mentally matching time as she queued up the next song.  The club was taking to proper dubstep incredibly well - not the marketable, watered-down stuff that normally made the cut, but the stuff that dared ponies to push themselves further, to throw their bodies into the beat.  As another sample of a pop staple announced the transition into the next song, she watched the crowd carefully, seeing more ponies pull themselves away from drinks and corridors into the dance floor, flares of blue from her cannon in counterpoint with the beat.





"So what are you going to do to make it right?"

Octavia stammered, her ears falling back instinctively away from her student's father.  "I...  I won't be charging for tomorrow, of course, and I do apologize for the trouble-"

"Of course you would, you don't have to deal with that little brat tomorrow, apologizing is easy."  The stallion stuck out his hoof, all but growling.  "I'm talking about my compensation.  Now I have to deal with him tomorrow, and we've already made plans, we're going to have to pay for a sitter instead of you.  I'll take the hundred bits to watch him now, and another twenty for my trouble."  He tugged his hoof twice towards himself.  "Come on, my little pony, chop chop."

"I-"  Without realizing, Octavia took a step back.  "I'm afraid I don't keep that kind of coin on me..."

"Of course not," he growled.  "She's a wastrel, too," he said in a voice he obviously didn't intend Octavia to hear.  "You know what?  Don't worry about tomorrow.  Or any weekend from now on," he barked, as the door slammed in front of her.  The hard bite of old hardwood against the marble doorframe made a sharp crack, the sound causing Octavia's heart to skip a beat.  Muffled shouts of were audible through the door, the old house's floor shaking under furious stomps.

Turning away, Octavia started to head back home, her head hanging down low.  Her legs felt as weak as a wet towel, having no grace or poise in her steps.  Am I really just a glorified foalsitter?  She briefly considered her cutie mark, then sighed and let her head hang.  Is this what I was meant to become...?  She sighed, and just let herself lean against the wrought iron fencing, doing her best to quell a shaking from deep inside.  If she started shaking, she would start crying.  And if she began crying, in public, with no care to whomever saw her then - that would just be uncouth.

Octavia sniffled a moment.  I could really use somepony to lean on right now.

That thought struck her, as she recalled the original reason she had headed out - the reason her schedule had changed.  By all logic, she should be angry with Vinyl; for ruining her sleep schedule, for stepping on her heart so casually the morning morning.  For getting her drunk.  For waking up beside her with those hooves so casually thrown over her chest...

Octavia swallowed, clearing her dry throat.  "Mother...  I think I've made a terrible mistake."

Running a hoof through her mane to knock it back into place, Octavia rose to her feet again.  With a deep breath to steady herself, she looked up towards the city on the hill, where Monochrome waited.

"But I know I can right it."





Canterlot was not only a capital, but it was an example; Equestria's famous "shining city on a hill" was just as much a curated piece of art as a living, breathing metropolis.  House plans had to be approved by a triumvrate consisting of an engineer, a classicist, and a modern artist.  Roads were tended to by dedicated teams of lamplighters, arborists, and bricklayers.  Even common guards wore armor that shone like gold.  And of course, the noise ordinances were the strictest Equestrian law could provide.  It was this latter fact that ruffled Vainglory's coiffure.

From his office over the bar, Monochrome's owner had the best view of the goings-on in the club.  From behind blinds he could look down onto the dance floor and see just how the his little establishment was doing, in terms of action at the till and movement in the doors.  But the one thing he didn't do was hear the goings-on - his soundproofed box above the floor.

DJ PON-3's bass cannon defied all soundproofing.

Vainglory gave a little snort.  It was scandalous enough that his fortune was based on the backs of such common folk, but the driving rhythm that shook through his club was in flagrant violation of Canterlot law.  Of course, the novelty of it was keeping his little establishment busy - even at this time of night, there was a line outside - but that line would soon have the boys in brass showing up on his doorstep.

Looking down onto the dancefloor, the noble pegasus tugged open the blinds.  Another glowing square of light in the club went unnoticed by most dancers, but it was obvious from the raised podium - especially with the silhouette of a lanky pegasus in the window.  After a few moments, DJ PON-3 looked up and met Vainglory's gaze, then trotted over to the microphone.  He didn't hear whatever she had to say - but she punched a hoof into the air and the bass shaking a hoof became a rapid, driving beat, one that caused half the club to rear in excitement (save the pegasi bounding skyward in excitement).  For once, he noted, the smile on her face wasn't the calculated grin of a performer; her smile was wide as her hips bounced and a hoof tapped against a railing, matching the beats her 'cannon' was throwing into the club.  She gave one more wave which caused the club to raise hooves in response, and then snuck into the club.

Sneaking into the darkened pathways of the club, DJ PON-3 headed up to the owner's booth.  When she hit the trick latch that opened the door, a brief burst of strings and beats broke through the soundproofed door, making Vainglory grit his teeth.

"Yo, what's up, boss ma-"

"Are you MAD?"

The lanky pegasus rose to his full height, his wings splayed out as he challenged her.  As usual, she didn't back down, her usual smirk on her muzzle.

"I haven't heard such a cacophony since I was last in - Detrot," Vainglory shouted, his voice unrestrained.  "And where did you get that monstrosity at?"

"My bass cannon?  I brought that when you first added me to the rotation," DJ PON-3 said, her voice level but smug.  "You said I had full rights to set up whatever I needed.  I just haven't had a chance to use it yet-"

"Well, get that thing off my stage," Vainglory hissed.  "We've had noise complaints."  A little white lie - he didn't know for a fact any of those who had left at the start of Vinyl's dubstep burst had made a complaint - but it was a statement he'd make a truth himself if he had to.  "Are you trying to bring the Guard down on us?"

The DJ shrugged, and leaned against a wall.  "Psssht - relax, man," she snorted, her red eyes meeting his over her lenses.  "I just had a-"

one night stand with my best friend out of nowhere

"really weird night."  She looked out over the club, and grinned to herself, another glow of magic causing the equipment to transition.  I'll keep it level.  "Besides.  It's not like the guard has anything to find in the books, now, is it?"

Vainglory sputtered, launching himself up into the air in surprise.  "What-"  His glare was proud.  "Just what are you implying, Vinyl Scratch?"

She snickered and turned around, looking at him over her shoulder.  "Nothing.  Just making you a promise.  You worry about your gig," she said, tilting her head in the direction of the bar.  "And I'll keep the ponies lined up."  With that, the DJ turned to go, another burst of sound in his office, the door slamming behind her and ringing in the noble's ears.

"This has gone far enough, Vinyl Scratch."  Vainglory barked, watching her take her place back on the podium.  "You do not defy me in my club..."





The building was unmistakable - few buildings in Canterlot got away with being a plain, rectangular box.  However, the pattern along the outside - a checkerboard pattern in stark white and black, with the images of askew chess pieces scattered over the occasional space.  And if Octavia had any questions remaining about the club she was going to, she could just follow the pounding sound, a pulse that filled the streets and drew the ears - the line outside the club drew the eyes.

She had been waiting in the queue since just after sunset; Octavia had taken the time to watch the waxing full moon rising into the sky, lighting the world below in a cooler version of the day.  That had occupied her attention for a few hours, but even a poet's soul gets bored of just observing.

Do they always make you wait this long...?

She was only ten away from entering the club when she saw the uniformed guard give her one look and wave at her.  After she pointed to herself and he confirmed with another wave of his hoof, Octavia reluctantly broke the queue and came trotting over.  When it occurred to her that Vinyl probably told the guard what she looked like, she gave a little smile trotted over.

Well!  At least something is going right tonight-

"Hey.  You DJ PON-3's roommate?"

"Why, yes," Octavia beamed, feeling some of her old poise return.  "I just need to ask her something between sets-"

"Beat it."

Octavia's smile didn't fall, although her eye twitched.  "I'm sorry.  What did you just say..."

"Run along.  Scram.  Skedaddle," the dayglow orange bouncer said.  "I got special instructions tonight - not to let in a gray mare with a pink treble clef.  And you, a gray mare with a pink treble clef, fit the bill."  Looking down on Octavia, he smirked.  "Besides, this really isn't the gig for a pony like you.  So n'entrez pas, s'il vous plait."

Octavia sputtered.  "You can't possibly be serious.  Vinyl told you-"

"I'm not saying who said what," the bouncer barked, advancing on Octavia, looking down to her.  "But please do not make this any harder than it has to be."

For a moment, Octavia struggled with her words, gaping like a fish in shock...  but only a moment.  He was, after all, in the right; he was the one who had the ability to allow entry, and he could permit or deny any pony he felt like.  So, with her ears wilting backwards, she sighed and hung her head.  "My apologies, sir.  I'll be on my way."

Why can't fixing things be easy for once?

Stepping under the rope fence, Octavia started to head out.  But his words turned in her head, thinking of ways to get in.  As she thought of his specific words, Octavia spotted a loophole.

A loophole big enough for a stallion to step through.

"The things I do for you, Vinyl," Octavia grumbled, as her head realized what her heart had already decided on as her next course of action.  "I swear, you're corrupting me..."





The hard introduction of the night had faded to her far more traditional mix of high-energy cantercore.  After all, unusually for her Wednesday slot, the house was packed - the club was obviously digging the deep bass, ponies bouncing in time to the cannon's glow.  However, Vainglory's words rung harshly in DJ PON-3's ears, and she knew he would be staring down at her from his office, waiting for her to bring the 'noise' down to a level his precious ears would tolerate.  She had to do this right.

As the mix faded out, DJ PON-3 automatically set a sample to loop, turning down the volume so she could be heard over it.  Raising a hoof, she waved as she called into the microphone:  "Halfway through the night!  Is everypony having fun out there?"

Half the ponies reared back in response; the other half beat their hooves in time to the bass underpinning.

"Great to hear it!" she grinned, swaying before the mic.  "But I've been talking with some of you.  I've heard that some of you don't like the way the music's gone tonight.  I admit, it's been a bit experimental."

The crowd rose again - some agreeing, some in confusion - and the DJ shook her mane out, negating all of them.  "But I've been listening to you all.  And I agree."  She gave an impish smirk.  "I'm sorry I gave you all a fright, and I'll make it right now."

All eyes in the club were on her - and she threw a switch.

"It's time to turn it up."

As her cannon burst back into life, DJ PON-3 looked up at the owner's window - and, lifting her glasses up for just a moment - tugged her eyelid down, revealing the reds of her eyes and showing Vainglory just what she thought of his "cacophony."  Grinning, she bounced across the floor.  Forget bosses and laws and roommates - the club loved her.  And she loved them right back.

"C'mon, Monocrome, let's pick it up!"





The practice of body sculpting wasn't quite illegal, but it wasn't quite approved of by common society.  Outside of certain theraputic uses, changing one's body was considered cowardly at best, cheating at worst.  That did not stop a steady stream of ponies from visiting shapers, each and every day, in every major city in Equestria.  Some did it to become more attractive; some did it to feel stronger; some just felt like exploring life as a pegasus or unicorn or earth pony; and for some rich nobles with more bits than tact, just to take on a new look.  Of course, transformations were magical, and as such, never lasted longer than a spell's duration; this meant you had to continually go to the shaper's to get a new spell cast.  But body sculpting was the sort of magic that zebra alchemy excelled.

Pasuaji	gave a little snort as he circled his hut.  Tiny huts in the back alleys of town were par for the course for any shaper.  He would have much rather had a nice little doctor's office, with receptionists to set up meetings and accountants to handle billing and therapists to screen and interview patients and a few cute nurses to hit on, all shaped to demonstrate his skill.  But that would require customers who were reasonable ponies, and his line of work specialized in ponies who were so dissatisfied with their bodies that they'd rather hand over hundreds of bits than make changes to their lives.  Nopony ever made appointments; they all showed up on a whim, clandestine and embarrassed yet expecting perfection to their demands.  (For the latter, Pasuaji considered his job only one part magic, to four parts fortune teller and two parts therapist.)  Being a shaper meant you took the jobs you got; with no appointments, one could not predict whether a customer would be the first of many more to come, or the last he would see in a day.  There was no way of knowing if the pony was just a thrillseeker hoping to get a new rush in a new form, a drama queen wanting their bodies to match their inflated egos, someone who genuinely needed therapeutic aid which his magic could or a basket case who would open up.  Looking at the customer that had just graced his door, Pasuaji was suspecting the last group applied.

"Hello, and welcome to Pasuaji's Parlour," he said, putting on his thickest zebracan accent.  "I am Pasuaji, and my spells are sure to aid your body and put your mind at ease.  Please, have a seat, miss..."

"Philharmonica," the grey mare said.  She was looking side to side, nervously casting glances about the claustrophobic room. Windows would have made the room seem much more open, but a shaper whose office had windows would find their usual clientèle would avoid their practice, the skittish ponies certain someone would be peeking inside as they were changed.  "I've heard about the practice from a-a friend..."

"Only good things, I hope."   From the pause in her voice, he knew he'd have to be gentle.  "What brings you to my practice, miss Philharmonica?"

Octavia shifted where she sat, not quite comfortable on the itchy old rug but not quite wanting to stand.  "Well...  there's this club."

"Ah...  and you want to look your best?"  The zebra gave a grandiose grin.  "Well, I assure you I would be glad to help - and such a pattern of feminine beauty as I see before me, would make the job quite simple..."

"No!  No.  That's...  not quite what I want."  Her eyes slid across the room, from the old zebracan artifacts to the posters showing potential changes to the shelves of mysterious reagents in their tightly stoppered flasks.

"Oh?"  Pasuaji did his best to keep his smile level, even as his heart sank.  "Then what change would you like to see affected, miss Philharmonica?"

Octavia could not quite face Pasuaji, her voice so low that her words didn't rise above the level of the fan.

"Please speak up, miss.  We are speaking about changes to your body - we cannot afford to mince words."

"I need you to make me into a colt."

Pasuaji nodded.  Well, at least it's a simple task.  I thought she was going to ask for something difficult like being made into a nightpony.  "That, I can do, surely.  However, this is a bit beyond the standard fare of a shaper's repetroire, and would require less common reagents.  I would need..."  He hemmed and hawed, theatrically looking around his hut as he 'considered' the difficulty, "say, one hundred bits."

"A hundred?  Well..."  She cringed.  "I have...  sixty-five on me."

"Well, then I'll let you know I'm open for another four hours yet, if you want to do it tonight," Pasuaji noted.  "And every day starting after noon.  I'll warn you, however, that I usually do better with these sorts of requests with advanced notice; after all, age-changing reagents are rare..."

Olivia coughed.  "I'm sorry.  Age-changing?"

"Well, yes," Pasuaji said, a little smile on his lips.  "After all - you wanted to be made a colt, correct?"

"I didn't mean it like that."

"Ah.  Well, then, miss Philharmonica; tell me what you do want."

Octavia hung her head.  "It's...  my roommate.  We had a fight - and she doesn't want to talk to me.  So in order to see her tonight, I need to sneak into a club.  They've banned a mare of my description from entering -"  her smile became a nervous grin - "so I thought they'd have no grounds to exclude a stallion."

Pasuaji's look was flatter than a vuvuzela's call.  "And you think they'll allow you in now that you're a colt."

Octavia met that look, coughed, then gave a hopeful little grin.  "Yes?"

The zebra took a moment to remind himself that facehoofing in front of a customer would likely cost him said customer, and put on a brave face.  "Well, we can be sure to try.  Now, a basic gender-shfting is seventy-five bits...  but I can cut off ten as a one-time deal, just so you can try my services.  Now, is there anything else you are thinking of - please be exact?"

"No.  I'm fine being just plain me, however I would look as a regular stallion," Octavia said.  "My friend, she had lots of ... sculpting -"

and what fine sculpting it was! -

"- but I want to just blend into a crowd, not stand out."

Pasuaji nodded, and bit back a comment about 'blending in' being harder than standing out, but rose.  "I believe we can accommodate you."  Rising, he opened the door to the back room with a hoof.  "Please, this way, miss Philharmonica."

Stepping inside, the room in question looked like a particularly tidy closet.  Shelves along all walls revealed the fact that the reagents in the front room were only the overflow of the reagent supply in the back, everything from tiny amounts kept behind locked glass, to baskets full of gems, to dried plants and things that Octavia hoped only looked like animals.  After manning a pump in the corner Pasuaji filled a large metal cauldron in the center of the room with water that smelled of sulfur and copper, some of which flashed to steam the moment it hit the cauldron.

"Careful, miss - don't breathe this."

As he flew around the room, Pasuaji spoke in his native Zebracan, a rapid-fire stream of syllables; Zebracan did with suffixes what Equestrian did with consonants and word order, so every word seemed, to Octavia's ears, to be full of florid vowels and long, punctilious words.  Either way, Pasuaji was ignoring Octavia's comments or actively shushing her, so she stayed quiet, sitting on her haunches by the doorway.  The stream of words occasionally broke back into regular Equestrian, as Pasuaji would explain one reagent or another -

"Emerald, I think; a quiet strength rather than fiery passionate muscles of ruby or svelte, lean sapphire-"

"Pickled zhoryana root suits earth ponies just fine, keeps the spells nice and stable for days and days-"

"Gumdrops - trust me, you didn't ask for it but after what you've been through tonight I can tell your hair could use it-"

"Just a hint of aluminum powder.  Not too much, or you'd take in a lethal dose!  Oh, come now, miss Philharmonica, that was just a little shaper humor..."

After fifteen minutes or so, Pasuaji gave a smile, and stirred his brew with a stone rod that seemed half staff and half pestle, giving a small grin.

"Well, now.  We seem to have everything in order.  Are you ready, miss Philharmonica?"

"As I'll ever be," she laughed wanly, standing up and giving herself a dusting off.

"Good, good.  Now that it's done, take a whiff.  Doesn't it just smell like...  virility to you?"

Octavia rose up on one hoof and looked into the swirming mixture.  "I'm not sure.  It smells like...  moss, and new shoes, and dusty old books..."

The mare didn't have time to respond, as she felt a pair of hooves on the back of her neck, knocking her forwards and her head under the roiling water.  Before she could struggle, Pasuaji lifted his voice, howling in old Zebracan:

< O, spirits of air and water, of flesh and bone!
Hear my call and heed this mare's wishes-
and let her form be remolded! >

Just as suddenly as he had pushed her, he was pulling her up by the shoulders, the cellist sputtering and coughing to catch a breath, drenched from the shoulders up.

"What in the world was that?"

"Your spell, sir.  Warned ponies resist spells; they fixate on the change, and as such, prevent it.  This will keep your spell much more stable, for much longer.  Besides, immersion is much quicker than consumption when it concerns external changes."  Pasuaji smiled smugly.  "You haven't even noticed your voice changing, have you?"

Octavia blinked.  "I...  no."  Now, he coughed, and looked down at himself.  He mostly looked the same, looking down at his hooves, but... "Mirror.  I need a mirror."

Pasuaji laughed politely, and indicated the back of the door.  "Take a look and be amazed, Mister Philharmonica."

The stallion that met Octavia's gaze in the mirror was... short.  And kind of weak looking.  But the devil was in details of the form.  His muzzle, once short and round, was now long and proud; the brow was strong and broad, and the stance was just a little wider now.  There was more muscle tone in the shoulders and flanks, and the hips were stronger over strong limbs.  And just beside those hips-

"Yes, you are a complete stallion," Pasuaji said with a practiced smile.

Octavia looked at his reflection in the mirror.  "Wow."  The motion completely matched his mind, and the face was almost identical.  Besides bone structure - and that sharp little goatee, of course.  "Wow."  Octavia cleared his throat, and squinted.  "I guess I finally found a way to drop my voice a little lower..."

"It does suit you," the zebra smiled.  "And I wish you well at the club tonight."

"I...  there are no words, Pasuaji."  Octavia grinned, and reared up to give the zebra a tight hug.  "Thank you."

Pasuaji coughed, and gave an awkward grin.  A few moments ago, having Octavia hugging him like that might have given him quite the reaction, but Octavia was no longer in such a state.  "... you will need to work on your mannerisms, however.  Remember, you are a gentleman - it behooves you to act the part."

"Oh...  right," Octavia coughed, as he sat back.  "Any advice?"

"Yes - just keep the nobility in mind.  Treat her the way you would have wanted to be treated by a gentlemen.  And more than that..."  Pasuaji gave a little grin.  "Flowers the first date, candy the second, kisses the third, and fuck the fourth."

Octavia gasped, and Pasuaji gave a laugh - not one of his practiced ones, but a deep belly laugh, as he clapped Octavia on the shoulder.

"That's just a warning," he smiled.  "You are going to be treated as one of the guys now, Mister Philharmonica.  Ponies will treat you differently.  Look at you differently.  Talk to you differently.  You aren't being treated as less, or more - this is just another way to look at the life you live.  Enjoy yourself - and you'll enjoy your new body."

Octavia re-composed himself, and nodded, giving a smile.  "I will try.  Thank you, again."

"Any time.  Now, have a good night, sir - and good luck with your fillyfriend."

Instinctively, he tried to explain the relationship he shared with Vinyl - but the cellist smiled and shook his head.  Octavia didn't feel like correcting him.





The club's beats could now be heard down the road and around the corner, bouncing off of nearby buildings, loud enough one could be forgiven for thinking they were in downtown Trottingham.  Two tall stallions - a dark unicorn, and a pastel green earth pony - were already curious when a well-coiffured red pegasus ran towards them.

"Guards, please, help!  She's out of control!  It's just-" he lifted a hoof to his forehead, and flopped back dramatically - "dreadful!"

The two guards shared a brief look before the unicorn stepped forwards.  "Is this something to do with that noise we hear?"

"Oh, absolutely!"  Vainglory gave a gasp, his chest heaving from a ragged sob.  "I tried to tell her to stop, but she just wouldn't quit - she just went to taunt me by going even louder!  She's made a mockery of my club!"

The earth pony frowned.  "You mean to say this is your club making the noise?"

At that, the pegasus twitched, realizing his potential error - before throwing himself before the two of them.  "Please!  You've got to do something about her!"

The two guardsponies rolled their eyes, but nods.  "Of course, sir.  We'll just need to bring you down to the station to file a report, and make a statement..."

"Oh, thank you, thank you," Vainglory smiled, his smile saccharine and forced, rising with practiced weakness.  "You don't know how much of a relief this is..."





This isn't so bad, really.

The walk back to the club had been uneventful - pleasant, really.  Oh, there was a slight stirring here or there; the fact that she had that sliding between her thighs hadn't gone completely unnoticed.  But it was nowhere near the constant droning sensation Vinyl had complained about; instead, the thing Octavia noticed the most was his new diaphragm.  Every breath seemed to come from far deeper inside him, suiting his deeper voice; combined with his taller, more powerful build, the trip was pleasant.  Some part of him actually wanted to spend a day just - jogging!

And his new look passed entirely without comment; despite his fears, he found himself constantly forgetting about his change.  In fact, the only way he knew he was changed was how ponies looked at him; now stallions showed utterly no interest in him, whereas before Octavia would often endure a second glance or eyes tracing back to the area of her cutie mark.

He noted mares weren't giving his new form the same sort of twice-over.  He didn't know whether or not to be glad for this.

Rounding the corner, what surprised Octavia was not the sound of the club - but the fact that there was still a line.  It had to be only an hour before last call, and there was still a dozen ponies waiting by the front, waiting to be let in; the ponies in line still seemed to be excited, as if they were relatively recent arrivals, eager rather than despondent.  Slipping into line, he hoped to escape notice -

- and jumped about twice his height when something tapped him in the shoulder.

"Yo, Treble Clef!" came a deep bassoon call.  "I thought I told you to beat-"

As Octavia's heart went through a hard reboot, the orange pony held his hoof out at the stallion.  His jaw flapped a few times.  He tried to pick it up, then it flapped about.

"Wait.  Weren't you-?"

"Was I what?" Octavia took his time to clear his throat, and tugged on his bowtie, resituating it.

"You were- that was-"  The security guard grunted, and stomped a hoof.  "I already threw you out!"

"No - actually, you didn't throw anyone out.  You were just told not to let anyone in."  Octavia straightened himself out, and rose to his full height, looking down.  "And do I look like her to you?"

"...no," Beat Stick agreed, hissing through his teeth.

"Well, then.  I think I'll get back in line."  Octavia turned to face towards the door, but soon found himself being yanked by the bowtie, to face the security pony once more.

"You - you're determined, aren't you."  It was not a question - but hissed quietly enough to stay private.

Octavia knocked Beat Stick's hoof away, and adjusted his collar.  "I'm going to set things to right tonight.  Not tomorrow, not three days from now - tonight."

Beat Stick looked Octavia in the eyes, darting from one to the next.  Finally, he snorted.  "One chance.  If you didn't live with Vinyl, I wouldn't give you even that.  Cause one issue and you're never coming back.  Do I make myself clear?"

"As sunrise," Octavia agreed.

The orange guard still frowned - but rose.  "Back in line," he grumbled.

Octavia let out a sigh he didn't know he was holding back.





It's certainly loud.

The club was still fairly busy.  Walking in the brighter 'corridors', Octavia was lit in bright light, separated by blocks of dancers only by custom and a curtain of light.  The music was bright - something Octavia found far too upbeat for the hour.

Well, I made it in...  what now?

Wandering the brightly lit aisles, Octavia tried to figure out what the station could be.  After all, he had imagined sneaking in, seeing Vinyl, and... putting their friendship back to rights...  somehow.  Planning on a few hours of sleep wasn't quite Octavia's strong suit.

"Now, where are you hiding, Vinyl..."

The dance floor was split into roughly six "dancing" areas - plus a few more private nooks in the dark, off against each wall.  Octavia had thought he would have seen Vinyl's spiky hair bouncing above the crowd - or knowing how much she went off on showmanship, standing on some speakers like a throne.  

Find the system, find Vinyl.

He didn't notice a pair of eyes following him as he circled the club; after returning back by the entrance, Octavia stalked the other way, craning to look over the crowd.  But, still, there were no telltale shouts over the music as it dropped into a slower breakbeat, heavy on the synth.

Shouldn't there have been some sort of... transition?

Octavia grumbled.  "I don't have any idea where she's hiding..."

"Hiding?  I'm right here."

Octavia whirled - and the pony who faced her wasn't Vinyl Scratch at all.  But she seemed to be quite interested in Octavia, regardless.

"Looking for something?"  The fuschia pegasus leaned in with a grin.  "I'm sure I can help you find whatever it may be..."

"I would appreciate that," Octavia said.  "I'm trying to find the - stage or podium."

The pegasus looked at Octavia with disbelief, before lifting a hoof to point towards the stage.  "It's literally the only raised platform in the room.  You can't miss it."

Octavia frowned.  "But Vi- erm, the DJ -  isn't there."

The regular's look of disbelief became a smug smirk.  "Well, yeah.  She's not here right now..."

"Not here?  But...  I..." Octavia sputtered.  Vinyl's words came floating back:  "Every DJ has some long songs in their sets.  It gives you an excuse to check cables, or mingle to get a read on the crowd, or even just water the flowers."

"Ah.  I suppose that makes sense.  Thank you for your help, miss..." Octavia said, his mood brightening.

"Cloud Kicker," she smirked, resting a hoof on his chest - friendly but far too forwards for Octavia's tastes.  "And you are?"

"Octaviah..."  Clearing his throat, the former mare shook his head and righted his throat.  "Octavius.  Octavius Philharmonica."

The Philharmonica name seemed to suitably impress the pegasus, who nonetheless continued to grin.  "Well met, Octavius.  Now come on," the lean pegasus insisted.  "You can't just ask a filly for help then not even invite her to dance!"  Her smile was broad, and 'Octavius' felt surprisingly like a rabbit being surveyed by a cat.

"O-of course not, miss," Octavius smiled weakly.  "Would you care to-to dance?"

That grin grew wide, showing the hint of teeth.  Definately predatory.  Feeling the leading edge of a wing tugging him around the neck - a feeling Octavius was not familiar with, making him blush - he was pulled into the nearest dance floor, the bright lights of the hallways fading to the dim light of the dancefloor.  Cloud Kicker's bright mane easily shone in the light, but her darker body nearly disappeared, reminding Octavius of nothing so much as a Cheshire cat.

"Come on, babe," that grin appeared, a nip at his shoulder.  "I know you have to have some moves in there..."

"I've been told such," Octavius agreed, keeping his eyes on Cloud Kicker in the dim light - only to find she had disappeared.  He started to whirl before he felt Cloud Kicker on the other side of him, the touch a flank pressing against his, moving in on the beat.

"It'll be easier this way," she smirked, as she leaned up against the dark grey mare.  "Now, let's try again..."

Lifting his hoof, Octavius let Cloud kicker step in.  But to his surprise, when she stepped back, the stallion stepped back - the rhythm of the 'laughter' in the music drawing him along with her.  It was a simple beat, really.

"Strange song."

"Works, though.  It's been strange all night.  But a good kind of strange."

As Cloud Kicker tossed her head back, Octavius' muzzle followed along - identical to the moves he had done with Vinyl, including as his muzzle nuzzled at her neck, a brief brush of lips against her fur there.  Cloud Kicker whickered in surprise, her wings rising and ruffling beside her, pressing into his flank before coming back to rest at her sides. 

"Well," she smirked, as the song bounced back, her muzzle under his.  "You're certainly bold."

"I apologize," Octavius said, a warm half-smile on his face.  He could feel a faint stirring despite himself, a scent that he could recognize as his own rising in the club's sweaty atmosphere.  "You could say I'm new to this."

"Don't be sorry," Cloud Kicker smirked.  "After all, fortune favors the bold..."

Her eyes stayed on his, squinted in the dim light, as that smirk grew into a predatory grin - moving to face him, the pegasus flaring her wings just a little, moving to face Octavius, stepping in counterpoint to him.

"Perhaps it does," Octavius agreed.  He was trying to keep his voice noncommittal - it was just a dance, he told himself.  Just some pleasantries.  But she didn't seem to take it that way.

"Well, then," she smirked.  "Only one way to find out..."

Octavius didn't have time to react; once her hoof was on his shoulder, her lips were on his in moments, swaying to the music, lips to lips.  After a moment, she pulled away with a smug look on her face.

"How does being bold strike you, then?"

"I...  uhm..."  Octavius blinked in surprise, then took half a step back, rose appearing on his grey cheeks.  "I'm not...  aheh."  Octavius gave a tug on his collar.  "I didn't think I was prepared for this."

"Perhaps so," the pegasus giggled.  "But your body looks plenty ready to me," she cooed, as her eyes pointedly looked down, then back up.

"I don't know what you - mean..."  As Octavius' eyes followed the pegasus', his mouth went dry as he saw that she saw - hanging between his legs and at full sail, swaying below him.  In the darkness of the club, the color couldn't be made out - but the dark, phallic silhouette against the dim floor was plain to see.  Not to mention, now that Octavius was aware of it, of its low throbbing, bare in the air of the club...

With a yipe of surprise, Octavius immediately sat down in the dance floor, wincing as he crushed his new equipment underneath his weight but pressing even more firmly down upon himself, whining at the feeling but doing his best to hide his stallionhood from view.

"Awh - what's the matter?" Cloud Kicker smirked, circling around him...  her voice low and playful.  "Never got excited on the dance floor before?"

"For a matter of fact, no," Octavius muttered darkly.  "This has never happened before.  I didn't even have this before tonight."

"Oh.  Oh!"  Cloud Kicker's smile went from predatory to friendly again, a hoof raised in apology.  "Well...  sorry if I came on too strong.  But...  well, to be honest," she grinned, "No I'm not.  You make a cute stallion - wanna bang?"

Cloud Kicker couldn't help but laugh out loud at the way Octavius' mouth flopped about like a fish.

"Seriously, you're cute.  But if you're not into it, that's okay, babe."

Octavius looked up, rising tenderly back to his hooves.  "Well...  thanks, I think," he said, rubbing the back of his neck with a hoof.  "I'm sorry to have led you on.  See, I came here looking for-"

A bust of static burst out of the main speakers.  "YO!  WHAT IS UP, MONOCHROME!"

Up on the stage, a stallion barely the age of a colt in far too many gold chains waved his hooves, failing about.

"DJ Skeets is in da hizz-ouse!"

Octavius looked at the near-colt that twirled on the stage, bouncing like a kid's show host doing his best to hold back a case of stage fright.

"That... is not Vinyl."

"Vinyl?  You mean the DJ that started the night?"  Cloud Kicker tilted her head.

"Yes.  She goes by names PON-3...  and COL-7," Octavius stated.  "What happened to her?"

"Oh, yeah!  It was awesome," Cloud Kicker grinned.  "It was the most metal thing I've seen..."

"What was?"  His voice shook with fear.  "Please tell me, Cloud Kicker," Octavius pleaded.  "Where.  Is.  Vinyl."

"Oh.  They took her away half an hour ago."

Octavius grabbed Cloud Kicker by the shoulders, dragging him bodily.  "Who.  Where.  Why?"

Cloud Kicker squirmed, flailing about and trying to take off to get out of the crazy cellist's hooves.  "The guard.  To jail.  Because her 'dubstep' broke noise violations."  She smirked.  "Not that I'd regret doing it for one moment...  this has been some night."

Octavius winced, still trying to wrap his brain around the fact that Vinyl had been taken away.  Then, with a defeated sigh, he hung his head.  "This day just can't get worse, can it."

Cloud Kicker tilted her head.  "Why- are you two..."  Then she grinned again.  "Oh. So she's your special somepony."

Octavius twirled, irritated.  "No- maybe.  But I need to talk to her."  He stomped a hoof, and turned.  "So if you'll excuse me, I'll-"

"Gonna spring her out of jail?"

Octavius froze, wilting.  "... right.  Talk to her.  In jail."

Cloud Kicker gave a thoughtful little hum...  then shrugged.  "Eh, what the hay.  Need a lift?"

"A lift?"  Octavius looked over his shoulder.  "You don't mean...?"

"Well, to get bail, then get her out.  Noise violations are pretty cheap, think you have a hundred bits?"

"Er - yes, at home," Octavius nodded.

"Then it's settled," Cloud Kicker grinned, her wings flaring as she jumped into the lit hallways.  "Let's go bust her out!"





Vainglory paced, his eyes never leaving Vinyl.  For her own part, Vinyl stat in her own corner, smug.

They had been placed in different cells - Vinyl for noise violations, Vainglory for noise violations and for attempting to strike a royal guard.  A few shouts and threats to add disorderly conduct to their charges had muted them both, but they kept up their facades:  Vainglory's eyes promised doom and ruination, while Vinyl's nonchalant grin feigned a devil-may-care attitude.  To Vainglory, the worst part was that Vinyl was quietly humming the song she had been kicked out on as if it was a victory anthem.

A large guardspony, a unicorn in deep blue and white, padded up to the cell.  "Alright, Mrs. Scratch - you're free to go."

"What?" said both captives at once.

"Somepony came and posted bail.  Now come on - we've got some paperwork to fill out."

"Awesome."

As the guard unlocked the door, Vainglory seethed.  "This is an outrage!  Why does that hooligan get to go free while I am locked in here like some common-"

"Back in line," the guard said, quickly rapping the bar with a baton.  In return, Vainglory yelped, darting back.

"Then maybe you shouldn't have taken a swing at Mr. Nice Guard, then, Vainy," Vinyl subvocalized, sticking her tongue out at Vainglory with a devilmaycare grin as she followed behind the guard.

The guardspony led her out to the tiny office in back, presenting her a quill and a document.  "Standard release paper.  You are on your own reconnaissance until your court date.  You are to be notified of your court date at the address you provide within a week's time.  Upon release, you are not to leave the canton of Canterlot without official release.  Any further charge will be considered a violation of bail, and you will be ineligible for further bail."  His gaze met hers, but his frown didn't match her wide grin. "Do you understand your responsibilities and rights?"

"Sh'yeah."  Vinyl Scratch was doing her best to stay on her best behavior, but she was practically ecstatic.  She signed her name with only a small unnecessary flair to the quill, and the guard rolled it up.

"Everything's in order, then."  returning her effects to her.  "Alright, ma'am.  Don't get in trouble."

"Me?  Nah," Vinyl grinned, flipping her glasses back up over her ears.  "I'll stay on this side of the line.  Thanks, man."

Vinyl wondered who would have come by to bring her bail.  Beat Stick, maybe Ant?  Jam Session might, although I haven't seen him in a while...

"Vinyl?"

Vinyl Scratched turned her head at the sound, looking over the unfamiliar pegasus and earth stallion.  "Yeah, that's me.  Do I know-"

The pin finally dropped.

"... Tavi?"

"None other," the stallion grinned awkwardly.  "I came to talk, but...  you had already been invited elsewhere."

"Yeah, about that.  I...  kinda had some frustration to work out, so I took it out on stage."  Vinyl grinned.  "They loved it, though."

"Totally," Cloud Kicker chimed in, standing up herself.  "Best show I've been at in ages."

"And who is this, hmm?"  Vinyl gave a little grin, poking Octavius with a hoof.  "Not a colt for a day and you've got this cute thing hanging off your flank?"

"What?  No, I-"

"-have totally fallen for him," Cloud Kicker finished, sharing a conspiratorial wink with Vinyl behind Octavius' back.  "But you know, I just flew this big lug over Canterlot and back, and that got me sore.  I was thinking I could use some 'relaxation'..."

"Aw, yeah," Vinyl smirked, as she wrapped a hoof around Octavius' neck.  "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Cloud Kicker wrapped a leg around Octavius, smirking.  "And what better way to thank the stallion who set you free?"

In unison, the two mischievous mares turned to face Octavius and purred, "Threesome."

Octavius' eyes flew open wide as he sat back, squeaking with surprise.  "I...  wha...  you two...  buh?"

Together, the unicorn and pegasus laughed, and smacked their hooves together.

"Alright, we broke him!"

The two mares leaned together laughing. Octavius' expression more than enough to keep them giggling.

"I think he's coming around," Cloud Kicker laughed.  "So, Vinyl - we square for Fillydelphia?"

"Nah man, I think I owe you one on this.  Busting me out, that's huge." Vinyl grinned and pulled Cloud Kicker into a hug.  "Thanks for helping Tavi and me tonight."

""Twas my pleasure," Cloud Kicker smirked, as she pointed a hoof.  "However, I think your coltfriend is starting to reboot, so you better make sure he gets home.  See you around, Vy."

"Seeya, CK."

Vinyl's grin stayed on as she gave Octavius a warmer, more sincere hug.  "C'mon, Octy," she smiled.  "Let's go home."





The silence didn't last long.  "So.  Colt.  New look for you."

"Yeah," Octavius sighed.  "When I tried to enter the club, they wouldn't let me in because they said someone- wait."  Octavius whirled, angry.  "Did you tell them not to let me in?"

"Uhm...  yeah, that would be a yes," Vinyl admitted, grinning sheepishly.  "I was worried..."

"Worried about what," Octavius growled.

"Worried you'd try to start a fight," Vinyl said, sighing.  "Kinda like you're doing now."

"We're not fighting!" Octavius shouted.  "I just wanted to know why you locked me out!"

Vinyl spun around and barked, "Because you always do this!"

Octavius stopped in his tracks.  Vinyl slid her glasses over her eyes, taking a moment to center herself, before continuing.

"You try to please everyone and solve everything.  You never let - you never let things be," Vinyl muttered, turing back towards home.  "Even when some time alone is really the only solution."

"Vinyl, I- I don't understand."

"Well, let's try this.  Tell me what you were going to say."

"What?"

"I'm sure you had more to say than that," Vinyl smirked, making Octavius roll his eyes.

"Har de har.  Well - I wasn't going to say anything.  I was going to ask."

"Well, then, ask away," Vinyl said softly.  "Quiet night, long walk."

"Right.  Well - why were you so mad this morning?  I thought that last night-"  Octavius gulped.  We haven't talked about it yet-  "I thought last night was wonderful."

"Yeah?  Well, good."  Vinyl spat bitterly.  "You seemed to enjoy yourself."

Octavius trotted a little faster, catching up with Vinyl.  "What's wrong now, Vinyl - why are you still mad?"

"Mad?  Why am I mad?  Here's a question for you," Vinyl said, her voice low.  "After all these years - why last night?  Why did you finally say 'yes' last night?"

Octavius blinked.  "'Finally'?"  He quirked an eyebrow.  "Last night was the first time you've hit on me, Vinyl."

Vinyl looked at Octavius through the sides of his glasses, red eyes meeting purple.  "Octavius...  I don't know where you've been the last few years..."  Vinyl sighed heavily.  "But last night definately was not the first time."

"Okay.  There's been jokes and taunts, like you do," Octavius admitted.  "But - those were parts of your pranks, your teases.  You never meant anything by it."

Vinyl walked in silence for a moment, and Octavius followed close behind.  After a few minutes, he wanted to reach out and touch her, but something about Vinyl felt...  weak.  Dangerously fragile.

"It was a bit earlier than that, Octy," Vinyl sighed.  "Think back when we first met."

"That far?  But that was back in - "  Octavius blinked.  "- music school..."

"Yeah.  Crushes are hard at that age," Vinyl smiled wanly.  "Especially when your crush doesn't even understand.  It was worse than being turned down - nothing I did could just get it into your noggin that I was into you.  After a while...  I just gave up."

Octavius blinked.  "But...  we were friends."

"Yeah.  The best," Vinyl smiled, facing Octavius again.  "But...  I didn't try romantically for a while.  Just threw myself into the work - never regretted it, really.  And now, here we are."

Octavius trotted forwards.  "I'm sorry that we...  that I..."  He sighed.  "Oh, Vinyl..."  He stood in front of her, looking up.  "Vinyl, I...  I'm sorry I wasn't so good as a friend.  But, what happened..."  Octavius swallowed.  "I don't regret it.  Not for one moment."

"But I tricked you," Vinyl said.

Octavius blinked.  "What?"

"You've always been a lightweight," Vinyl smiled wanly.  "I never should have taken advantage of-"

The hoof striking Vinyl's face blindsided her; legs strong enough to lift a cello could pack quite a punch.

"Never let me hear you saying that ever again, Vinyl," Octavius said, growling.  "You did not take adavantage of me, you never did and never have.  Do you understand me?"

Vinyl nodded mutely, as she lifted up her hoof to rub her now-sore face.

Finally, realization dawned.  "Oh Luna, did I just hit you?"  Octavius squeaked like a colt as he scrambled to take a look, wincing.  "I'm so sorry, Vinyl!  I-"

"Pssh.  It's okay, Tavi.  Besides, it wasn't that bad."  A bit of dark humor tugged at her lips.  "You hit like a girl."

"Don't make me drop you," Octavius said, but had to smirk.  "I am sorry for hitting you, but - you tend to do that, Vinyl."

"Do what?"

"Get wound up in yourself," Octavius smirked.  "You forget that, sometimes, not everything that happens happens beause you did something wrong.  And even if it is - you don't have to figure it out alone.  You know you have friends, Vinyl."

"Yeah."  Vinyl looked up to Octavius, and gave a little smile.  "Guess I do, huh."

"Of course.  Now come on," Octavius smiled.  "From now on, Vinyl, let's... let's just forget the bad parts of the last few days.  Misunderstandings and fatigue made us act like a pair of silly fillies.  When we step through that door, let's only remember the good parts ... okay?"

Vinyl smiled softly, a little hint of her usual smirk on her lips.  "I'd love to, but...  you're blocking me."

"I'm...  blocking you?"

What does that mean?  Does that mean Vinyl thinks she can't love any pony else?  If so, that's kind of sweet, but it's kind of creepy too...  wait!  What if Vinyl means I'm blocking her from loving others?  What if she means she won't let herself move on and won't let herself love anyone...  that's just wrong!

"Yes, Octy," Vinyl deadpanned.  "You're standing in front of our door.  I can't step in."

"Oh.  Oh, right - sorry."





Neither quite felt like going to bed, but neither quite felt like talking anymore about their relationship.  So the next best thing was dinner.

Vinyl made the dressing, as usual, while Octavius chopped and tossed the vegetables; a bit of couscous on the side made for a warm bed to rest the salad atop.  They moved about the kitchen in near silence, settling into an old routine; doors opening and tools working and simply making something.  It wasn't a epic symphony or a dubstep montage, but after fifteen minutes of simply working on something, both of them felt more like themselves.  A bit of coffee (they both took their coffee sweet) rounded out their dinner, and they were soon sitting at a table, sipping quietly.  It felt just like it used to be between them.

Well, almost.  Vinyl kept stealing glances over at Octavius.  After a while, Octavius noticed.

"Do I have something on my face?"

"Well, yeah," Vinyl smirked, as she pointedly rubbed her chin.  Octavius brought a hoof up to his own chin, to feel his goatee there - then blinked.

"Huh.  I never asked for that..."

"Yeah.  I'm guessing you went to Pasuaji," Vinyl smirked.  "He tends to...  loosely interpret anything he's asked to do."  Vinyl rolled her eyes.

Octavius nodded.  "He seems to have done an okay job."

"Nah, I'd call it half-hearted at best," Vinyl smirked.  "I mean, he could have made you so much stronger, taller, given you such a dramatic cast to your eyes...  it would have been epic."

Octavius smirked, sipping his coffee.  "No.  That would have been against my wishes," he smirked, resting his cup in his hooves.  "I wanted plain and boring - something to blend in, not stand out."

"Huh.  Strange," Vinyl said.  "But it looks good on you, Octavia."

He noticed the rare use of his full name with a smile.  However, he had to correct her - "Octavius."

"Octavius, mmm?  Octavius, Octavius...  derivative, yeah, but it's classy.  I like it.  It suits you, really."

"You think so?"  The stallion gave a little grin.  "I'm glad."

"So.  Octavius.  Sedate, formal really.  Not just a filly in drag, then?"  VInyl sipped.  "Taking your guy mode seriously?"

"Well, of course," Octavius nodded.  "If I'm going to do this...  I'm going to do it right.  Just prancing about would be a slap in the face of Harpo and Frederic and... all my colt friends."

Vinyl nodded.  "I see.  I respect that, really," she nodded.  "I still say you should have sprung for more," the DJ continued, chewing thoughtfully.  "For the kind of coin you dropped on him, I'd have figured that you've ask for the best you could get."

Octavius cocked an eyebrow.  "It wasn't that expensive.  Besides - I did it just to get into a club, not to show off on stage-"

"The stage!"  Vinyl Scratch yelped, then groaned, sinking back into her chair.  "I am doomed.  Doomed!  Doomed forever..."

"Why?  What's wrong?"

Vinyl heaved in defeat.  "I have to finish that piece for Hoity Toity.  And set it up.  And I gotta hope this court date isn't scheduled the day of the show."  Her voice trailed off, as she stared into space, whimpering.

Octavius gave Vinyl five seconds to get over the height of her freakout, before interrupting.  "You know, Vinyl," the cellist said, as he had another bite of salad.  "You could always just plead guilty.  You'd have to make an appearance, pay a fine, and throw yourself on the mercy of the judge, but you'd have a good chance of getting off without any time."

"Plead?  Seriously?  I dunno, Tavs," Vinyl said, humming.  "I don't want to risk it."

"Vinyl," Octavius said, clearing his throat.  "How long have you lived in Canterlot?"

"Since I moved in?  Maybe..."  Vinyl paused, and thought about it as he floated the dirty dishes to the sink.  "four years or so.  Why?"

"Take it from a native," Octavius smiled.  "Canterlot loves someone humble.  If you own up to your mistakes - you can just about get away with murder.  Just be humble and feign sincerity and you won't even need a lawyer."

Vinyl pondered.  "You know, that's not so bad an idea.  And..."  She laughed.  "Oh, this is too good.  I would officially have a criminal record for rocking too hard.  That can only do good things for my career."  Vinyl rose to her hooves, her trademark cocky grin back on her face.  "Yeah, I'll do that!"

"Good.  Well, not good for having a record, but you know what I mean."

Vinyl grinned, and circled the table.  "You know when I told you you like to solve everything, Octy?"

"Mmmhmm?"

Vinyl grabbed Octavius' muzzle in her hooves and pulled her tight, kissing her passionately on the lips - ignoring the corkscrewing Octavius' tail was going through.  "Never change," Vinyl grinned.

"I...  buh...  oh wow."  Octavius blushed deeply.  "I...  uhm."

Vinyl giggled.  "You should see yourself, Octy.  It's too cute."

Octavius frowned softly, although his blush remained.

"Come on.  You can't possibly be mad about that," Vinyl said, an edge of irritation in her voice.

"No.  It's not anger," he sighed.  "What I am feeling right now is pretty much the exact opposite of anger..."

"Oh.  Oh."  Vinyl took a half-step back, and took a look - Octavius immediately turned and shielded himself with a forehoof, but that didn't quite hide the sight of his stallion's pride from view.

"Alright.  Wow."  Vinyl took a look down, and back up, giving a sheepish grin.  "He certainly built you like an earth pony, I see..."

Octavius quirked an eyebrow, in interested confusion, and Vinyl sighed.  "Grown ponies.  I can be frank, right?"

He nodded.

"Octy, you're hung."

"Oh."  That blush hid a faint smile.  "I...  I am?"

"Yeah.  Like most earth ponies.  But I guess that was to be expected," Vinyl said, a smirk on her lips.

"Expected?  Because I'm an earth pony?"

"Because you're a cellist," Vinyl giggled.  "I mean, it only makes sense when you've spent your entire life swinging a gigantic instrument between your legs anyways..."

Octavius frowned.  "Vinyl?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"Your 'grown ponies' privileges are hereby revoked from now until the end of time."

Vinyl fell over laughing, ignoring the flat look she was receiving from Octavius.

"But...  okay, seriously...  yeah, you look healthy.  Better than I did - you don't have any obvious magical artifacts.  You look like a normal earth stallion."

"Ah.  I'm glad," Octavius said, his irritation evaporating.  "I haven't really had a chance to look..."

"Haven't had a chance?  So - you get a brand new body - and you don't give it a once-over to make certain it looks right?"

"I looked in a mirror!" Octavius whined.  "It looked fine to me!"

"Seriously, Tavi.  Have you even...  you know?"

Octavius looked up.  "Have I...  what?"

Vinyl raised her hoof up, and made several slow bouncing motions with it.  "You know...  tested your equipment."

"Ah- no.  No, not at all," Octavius admitted, with a blush.  "In fact, I wanted to talk to you about it."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Octavius took a deep breath, and sighed deeply,  centering himself before he continued.  "You mentioned that you've taken care of yourself."  Octavius averted his eyes.  "Well..  I was hoping you could teach me.  I literally know nothing about..."  He raised his hoof, to indicate his erection...  "Working with this."

Vinyl blinked.  "Octy...  did you want me to teach you how to hoof yourself?"

Octavius swallowed, and nodded.  "I started out in control, having no issues.  But ever since your friend teased me in the club, and especially after both of you teased me in the station...  well.  I can't do anything with it."

"I... wow."  Vinyl found herself speechless - especially as Octavius looked up, his lower lip quivering and his eyes seeking.  "I don't know what to say..."

"Please, Vinyl.  I'm...  really nervous.  I...  I would like you to show me."

"I - I'm flattered.  Really, Octy," Vinyl said, letting herself sigh.  "But... not tonight.  Not for this.  This one has to be all yours."

Octavius nodded.  "I...  understand."  He wilted a little, but sat up again.  "I'm sure I can figure something out..."

"Thanks, Tavi.  I'm sorry, but...  things are still a little weird right now, okay?"  A hint of her trademark smirk returned.  "Besides.  When it comes to hooves, a colt's first time should be something special.  I couldn't take that away from you."

Octavius gasped - and watched as Vinyl Scratch headed back up the stairs.  Her tail slashed in the air behind her, and those hips had to have been given an exaggerated swagger as she climbed up the stairs.  At the top, Vinyl called back down:

"Have fun, Octy...  and thanks, babe.  For everything."

It took ten seconds before Octavius, still sitting in the kitchen, could say anything else.  She made sure that she heard Vinyl's door latched and sealed before he shouted:

"Oh, come on!"