//------------------------------//
// Closing Time 
// Story: Cryo-7 
// by Metal Pony Fan 
//------------------------------//

"Ohh, g'd question for Flint, 'at right there, love."  Pip, chuckled, several rounds of drinks bringout the depth of his accent in ways Lilybelle was not ready for.  "Oy!  Flint, ya little bugger!  Where'd ya scurry off ta?"  The stallion winked at his companion.  "He's gon' be right behind me, just you watch."

Lilybelle blushed furiously, constantly taking small sips of her drink so her glass would hide it.  The colt's voice was getting lower as he drank, and his accent growing more and more pronounced.

"Right behind ya, boss!"  Flint raised his stony hand in the air from somewhere across the bar.  He was not behind the pinto by any definition of the word.

The young stallion clicked his tongue, then looked over at Lily with a smile. "What'd I tell ya?"

The nurse giggled, lowering her nearly empty drink.  She was hooked.  And not on the alcohol.  Pip's voice was just amazing like this.  She was doing everything she could to keep him going.  Every question she could think of, she asked it.  Every conversation starter she knew, she tried it.  Even...

She slid her glass, now only filled with ice, towards him.  "I'm almost out," she whispered sheepishly, "could you order maybe one more?"

Pipsqueak looked down at the glass, then back at Lilybelle while pointing at it.  "Same one?"

She nodded, biting her lip to keep her smile from getting too big.

With a smirk, he polished of his own drink, then held the empty glass high.  "Oy!  Barkeep?  C'd I trouble ya f'r another blackberry bourbon 'n soda, f'r the pretty lady?  Ya know what, make it two."  He leaned in close to Lily.  "If you c'n have seven of 'em in a row, and not change y'r order, 'ey must be somethin' special, and I want a try."

"Seven?"  Lilybelle blinked.  No, that many already?  She frowned.  She had lost count.  If she was on drink seven, Pip was on eight or nine.  And he had two tall drinks of something clear, amid the beers.  And that was assuming she didn't lose count.  "Yeah," she shrugged, "they are good, but I'll probably make this the last one."

Pip nodded slowly.  "Gettin' late, ain't it, love?"  Suddenly, his eyes lit up with the beginnings of a great idea.  "Y'know what-"

Flint, having made his way across the bar, raised his hand again and interrupted.  "Now I really am behind ya, boss.  What did ya need?"

Pip looked back.  "Oh, uh," he glanced back at Lilybelle, "aye, we had a qustion.  One 'at seems right in y'r field 'f expertise."  He steepled his hooves, putting on a serious face as they clicked together.  "Flint, w'd ya say you you were an expert on gems?  Er, well, at least, well-versed?"

"Definitely, boss," the stone man answered with a mock salute.  "I've eaten as many gems as any dragon on the station.  More in fact.  Gems are candy to them.  To me, they're the main course!"

Pip nodded.  "All well and good then.  As an expert in all things gem and mineral, name the important characteristics in determining something a gem, or not."

"Hmm."  Flint scratched his head.  "Hard."  He shook his head, redacting that statement.  "No, no, leave mineralogical hardness out of it, that's all relative.  Too relative."  He thought a second more, then answered, "rigid, having a consistent chemical composition, and a consistent crystalline structure.  And, most importantly, having an aesthetically pleasing appearance, generally clear or translucent, but not always."

"So," Pip tapped his hooves for dramatic effect, "would something perfectly clear, rigid, having a consistent, albeit amorphous, crystalline structure, that could come in countless different colors, be considered a gem?"

Flint nodded.  "Sounds like one to me."

Pip mirrored the nod as the bartender dropped off his and Lilybelle's drinks.  He picked one up, and raised it up before taking a sip.  "Then, glass is a gem?"

The golem stared for a moment.  "Boss, you're making my head hurt."

Pip shrugged.  "Is it?  Ya make it the same way a planet makes gem, only faster.  Ya heat up some poor unsuspectin' quartz, 'til it's glowin', angry, red lava, and then ya pour it out, or ya mold it into shapes.  Add impurities to get colors, and if ya do it right, it comes out all pretty and shiny, and if ya do it wrong..."  Pip trailed off, and rubbed at the back of his neck.  "If ya do it wrong..."

Lilybelle saw the look in his eyes, the unfocused look of an unpleasant memory, and jumped in to redirect things.  "So, Flint, glass?  Gem or not?"

The golem shook his head.  "I'm afraid I have to be a buzzkill here, and say, it depends.  A glass window pane isn't clear for beauty's sake, but utility.  A stained glass window-"  Flint stopped midsentence.   "Boss, you ok?"

"Yeah," Pip answered quickly.  "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Your resonance changed," Flint responded quietly, "And your heartbeat."

The stallion did his best to slow his breathing, and calmly responded, "Don't read too much into that, Flint."

"Boss, that was too big a change for me not to worry."  The golem checked to see if anyone was around.  "Is it something to do with...  you know... before?"

Pipsqueak glanced over at Lilybelle, then back at Flint.  He wasn't nearly inebriated enough to miss the concern in their expressions.  "Yeah," he admitted, taking a sip of his new drink, "it is."  He looked down into the glass, looking it over.  It was handcrafted.  Or, hoofcrafted, one or the other.  He could see the seam where the outside shape was molded, the tell-tale wall profile of blownglass, and the little blob at the rim where it was separated from the excess glass while molten.  There was a name for it, but he had forgotten.  He only remembered how much work it took to grind away if you didn't get it just right.  "Flint, I told ya my folks were metal workers, right?"

He nodded.  "Father a smithy, and Mother a jeweler, if I remember correctly.  And going back a few generations."

"Ya remember fine," Pip nodded.  "Well, my folks didn't end up on Tankra, and, far as I know, I was last o' them pods ta be opened, so they just asked me what I knew how to do.  I didn't know what was goin' on, and if I had, I w'd a lied.  But, I told 'em.  Told 'em I was a metal worker.  I could smith, and forge, and weld, and cast, and smelt alloys, and anythin' else ya might want.

The colt took another sip.  " So, they made me a glassworker.  I knew too much about metal.  They didn't want me anywhere near it.  Guess they figured I c'd sabotage something, or teach other ponies ta make weapons or such.  Which, I still did anyways."  Pip tapped his glass, clinking it against his hoof.  "I really hate glass, ya know?  I know more about it than I ever want to, and will never touch the stuff again as a raw material.  'Specially stained glass, stupid stuff f'r a window.  I've got some white in my coat, and knew how to use a torch, so I was perfect for sendin' out to repair 'em.  Take some glass, score it just right, break off the leftover, line it with the copper, and solder it in to place."  He rubbed his chest.  "Then get the torch taken to your skin, 'cause ya went and got some lead on the tile."

Flint shook his head.  "Got to say, I don't see how any of you are still sane after what you went through.  It all seems so senseless."

"Stupid, is more like it."  Pip shook his head.  "I try not ta think about more 'n I have ta.  I'm never gonna understand it, and it isn't like we can go ask 'em why, so best we can do is keep on.  Live however we can."

Lilybelle nodded silent agreement, rubbing her left leg.  She had been slow on a delivery once, and was tripped at the top of a flight of stairs because of it.  Punishments for even simple mistakes were often harsh and unexpected.  She wasn't sure she could accept any explanations given for that.

Pip sighed loudly, and knocked back the rest of his drink.  As he set the glass down, he let himself off his stool.  "I ought ta head home 'fore I order another.  Make sure Berry's drinks go on my tab, Flint."  The colt looked up at the nurse beside him.  "Yours too, Lily.  Thanks f'r sitting with me."

She didn't say anything as he walked away, a slow but steady affair.  But after a few seconds of watching him, remembering how many times she felt how he must right now, she decided she couldn't let it go like this.  She grabbed her newest drink, downed it in one big gulp, then hopped off her stool to run after him.  "Take care of this for me, Flint."

"Yes, miss boss," Flint saluted, and ate his metal tumbler, spilling the last of his mineral water on his denim overalls.  As the bartender came by to collect the glasses, the golem grabbed them first.  "These are on Pip's tab," he said before eating both glasses.  "Same as anything ordered by the pink pony."

"Pink pony, you mean Berry?"  The bartender checked the digital notepad clipped to the pocket of his black button down shirt.  "Four beers, then switched to scotch.  Had three shorts, then took what was left of the bottle.  According to this, she paid in full, then left.  Should I issue her a refund?"

If Flint had eyes, he would have blinked.  "She left?"









Berry squinted at the couch in front of her, and the camera on a tripod beside her.  "How the hell is this supposed to be fun?"  Berry found herself using Growl's favorite expression much more easily after finishing her scotch.  Flint mentioned that her grandfather was known to enjoy a good single cask, and she knew she had to try it.  It was much, much better than the beer, which wasn't so bad once she got used to it.  "I'm going back to the bar."

She turned to leave, only to find the stallion she left the bar with standing in front of her.  He was quite a bit bigger than her, but it seemed like that was the norm for ponies.  Even most of the mares on the fabrication crew were taller than she was.

"Hold on," he told her, putting his hoof on her shoulder.  "I promised you a drink, right?  Sit down, and I'll go get it.  It's an old Terran Corn whiskey.  If you liked scotch, you'll love this."

"Ok," she said with some hestitation, looking down at his hoof.  She couldn't quite put it into words, but there was something about this that she didn't like.  His touch felt weird, greasy.  She rubbed her shoulder as he headed off.  There wasn't actually any residue, or anything like that, but she still didn't like it.

Berry decided to sit at the table near the door instead of on the couch.  It wasn't that much closer to the door, given how small the room was, but she felt more comfortable here.  She looked around while she waited.  The room was small, smaller than the quarters that she and her crewmates were offered, and sparsely furnished.  It looked like temporary lodging.

That observation was strengthened by the stallion returning from the other room with a duffel bag.  "Here it is," he said as he dropped the bag.  It was open, and had an assortment of clothes inside.  At least, they looked like clothes, Berry had never seen transparent fabric in such a variety of colors before.

With a dramatic flair, the stallion pulled a decorative glass bottle out of the bag, strewing clothes all over the floor.  "Sorry, about that," he said as he worked to pile everything up.  "I'm a sales rep for this company, and they want me pushing this new line of luxury nightwear.  Look, this one matches your coat, care to try it on?"  He looked up towards the couch as he held up one of the articles of clothing.

It could have been a hat, Berry guessed, but it wasn't like any she had ever seen before.  It was small, frilly, pink, and stretchy, with a little bow on the rim.  If it wasn't for the two oversized ear holes, Berry wouldn't have even known it was a hat.

When he realized that Berry wasn't on the couch, but at the table, he dropped the bit of lace back in the bag with a shrug.  Seeing the disappointment on his face flip right back to a smile made Berry uneasy, and she realized part of what she didn't like about this.  "I never got your name."

"Ah, names aren't important, are they?"  He dismissed Berry's concern entirely as he trotted over, stood way to close to Berry's chair, and set the bottle on the table.  "Just a mare and a stallion sharing a drink."

Berry glanced over at the bottle.  It was taller than the scotch, and more square.  It also said Vodka on the front, not whiskey.  Looking closer, she saw that the label bragged it was made from the finest soil-grown potatoes.  This was not the corn whiskey he mentioned repeatedly.  "No glasses?"

With a chuckle, the stallion put his hoof back on her shoulder.  "Guess we'll just have to share the bottle."

His hoof started slowly circling, making Berry's fur stand on end.  She shrugged his hoof off onto the back of the chair.  "I don't think I like being touched like that."

He backed off, but not as much as Berry would have liked.  He was still holding the back of her chair, boxing her in.  "Well, I don't like it when ponies forget my name, so we're both at fault here."

"I didn't forget," Berry quickly defended herself, "you never told me."

"No, no," he leaned in with a smile, "I told you back at the bar.  It's not nice to lie to ponies."

Berry leaned back.  She was finally starting to feel something she recognized.  Anger.  That little spark that pushed her to fight back on the Philomena when she was scared.  "I know it's not nice to lie.  You're the one lying to me.  You never told me your name.  You lied about the whiskey.  And, you lied about this being fun."

"It could be, if you'd just relax."  He leaned in closer.  "Let's have a few more drinks, I promise you'll like it."

Berry turned away as she felt his breath on her face.  She held her hooves out to keep him from getting any closer.  "I don't like any of this.  I'm leaving."

He grabbed her hoof.  "You promised to come have a drink.  Just one, then decide if you want to go."

"No, you promised me a drink,"  she tried to push his hoof away, "and a different one.  Why do you keep saying things like that?  That I said something I didn't?  What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing's wrong with me."  His grip tightened, and Berry tried harder to pry his hoof away.  "And, stop doing that."

She did, and looked up at him.  She felt her anger very clearly now.  It was lacking the fear she felt last time, and she felt that was odd.  She didn't know if it was from the alcohol, but she recognized that she should be afraid, but wasn't.  She was uncomfortable, she was angry, but she was not afraid.  "Let go of me."

His smile grew.  "Or what?"

"Or it will hurt," she spat back twisting the hoof he held as far to one side as she could.

He shrugged.  "Maybe at first."

His other hoof grabbed at her waist, and Berry twisted her captive hoof as quick as she could in the opposite direction.  It didn't break his grip, but he moved to keep his hold on her.  She used her other hoof to push his leg at the joint, forcing him twist away or risk a dislocated shoulder.

But, that last movement put him right where Berry wanted.  She grabbed the hoof that held hers, and kicked off the table.  They both went down, chair beneath them, but his face was lined up with the back of the chair, and his chin smacked wood going down.

It didn't break him loose, but Berry put that moment of disorientation to use.  Her free hoof rained blows down at his head, aiming for ears and eyes until he was finally forced to put his hooves up to defend himself.

The moment he did, the blows stopped.  He waited a second longer to be sure, then looked up.

The last thing he saw was the word, "Vodka," approaching at high speed.







Lilybelle caught up to Pip at the edge of the commissary.  She could have easily done so at any point since leaving the bar, but it took this long to put her thoughts in order.  But, she was ready now.  So, she quickened her pace, trotting up beside the sulking pinto before matching his pace.  "It's the not knowing," she said quietly.

If Pip was surprised by her sudden appearance, he didn't show it.  A muttered agreement was his only reaction.

Lilybelle didn't let this discourage her.  "Not knowing what mistake would warrant punishment.  Not knowing what the punishment would be.  Not knowing why we were treated like that.  Not knowing how to let go of the fear of failure."

"Aye," he said wearily, "leavin' the lot of us obsessive perfectionists, who either don't know how ta take a damn complement, or who break down at slightest criticism.  Sometimes both."  With a sigh he looked over.  She knew that as well as he did, didn't she?  She knew him better than most would, and he knew her the same.  A shared past, and similar pain, but there was so much more to know wasn't there?  "D'ya ever think about the future?"

"Sometimes," the nurse answered with a shrug.  That was quite the lie, wasn't it?  She thought about the future all the time.  Her childhood dreams consisted of vagues stories of freedom.  It was only once that freedom was achieved that she even thought to imagine what she could do with it.  "How about you?"

He answered with a nod.

"And?"  Lilybelle prodded.  "What do you think about the future?  Is there anything specific you think about?"

The stallion paused for a moment.  "There was...  Well...  Back at the bar, I'd thought of askin' ya, d'ya fancy soup?  Vegetable soup?  With tomatoes?"

"Tomato soup?"  Lilybelle blinked.  "I guess.  Why?"

Pip shrugged.  "We never got the chance at a proper dinner, and I've got stew in the kettle, back at my place.  I was wonderin' if ya might fancy a bite 'fore we call it a night."

"I might," she answered with a smile, which only grew when he smiled at her response.  "I definitely might.  Lead the way."









"Eeyup?"  The voice was muffled through the door, but it sounded male.  "Who is it?"

"Flint, sir," the golem answered, "so sorry to be knocking so late, but I'm an acquaintance of Berry's.  Has she been by?"

The door slid open, and Flint found himself staring at the largest pony he had ever seen.

"Yer a rock?" asked the pony.

"And you are rather tall," Flint responded without missing a beat.  "Now, if we're quite done stating the obvious here, might I ask if Berry has been by?  I've checked her quarters and she wasn't there."

Mac shrugged, muttering, "Don't know how I was surprised, anyhow."  He nodded back into the dark of the quarters.  "She came by a bit ago, brought us a bottle from the bar, and fell asleep.  Shy tucked her inta bed a bit ago.  She's a might bit buzzed, d'ya need ta speak with her?"

Flint quickly shook his head.  "No.  No, don't disturb her.  I'll see her tomorrow anyways.  I was just makin' sure she got back safe.  She left the bar without tellin' anypony."

Mac nodded slowly.  "She pay at least?  Ah heard she wasn't too understandin' 'bout money and stuff."

"Oh, no worries there.  It was a company party, boss covered it."  Flint shrugged as he walked away.  "Though, his eyes are bug out when he sees how much that bottle of scotch was."

"Scotch?"  Big Mac was a little confused, but his tired mind didn't read too much into it.  "Must have been some other bottle."

Berry brought them a bottle of vodka.