Fluttershy’s hooves were still shaking slightly as she and Big Macintosh exited the shop in which they had found refuge; fortunately, it had turned out to be a small boutique, and the owner graciously restyled Fluttershy’s mane after witnessing the mob of raving ponies attempt to tear her to pieces in the street. After a quick brush through and several quality minutes with a curling iron, her mane now fell in soft curls, and the peony that Big Mac had picked for her (remarkably unscathed from the assault) was tucked behind her ear. Her dress was completely ruined, but with Mac by her side Fluttershy still felt like the most beautiful mare in Canterlot.
Dusk had fallen on the capital city, and though the streets were lit with the heady glow of lanterns, the shadows kept Fluttershy hidden from any more potential fans. The Gilded Gelding was indeed close to the train station, right in the heart of the city. Fluttershy gasped at the larger-than-life solid gold pegasi statues that flanked the restaurant’s entrance, only to rest her eyes on the most lavish eatery she had ever seen. Glittering crystal chandeliers hung above each of the ebony tables and reflected their radiance off one another, scattering beads of light like diamonds across the marble floors. Gold shimmered and shone wherever she looked, from the opulent carved fountain that sat in the center of the dining room to the bandstand which held a string quartet to the cufflinks of each and every tuxedoed waiter. She very well could have stood in the doorway gawking all night, had Mac not put his foreleg around her withers and guided her gently towards the maitre d’.
“Evenin’,” Mac rumbled in his low, reassuring voice, “Ah have a reservation fer two.”
The maitre d’ glanced over the pair critically before demanding, “Name?” His voice dripped with a posh Canterlot accent, and the crisp cummerbund around his waist looked so tight that Fluttershy doubted whether he was even able to walk in it.
“Macintosh Apple.”
“Quite,” the maitre d’ pony sniffed before turning to the long scroll that sat atop his podium. “Ah. Yes. It appears you are late,” the cream-coated host observed, narrowing his dark blue eyes at the pair of them. Fluttershy felt anxiety creep into her conspicuously empty stomach. ‘Oh please, he’s worked so hard, don’t let anything else go wrong tonight,’ she wished silently. Mac seemed to understand her unspoken prayer, and rallied his spirits yet again.
“Ah’m well aware,” the crimson work horse started carefully, “but Ah was told Ah had twenty minutes after mah reservation ‘fore y’all gave the table away.” Mac held his watch up to the snobby stallion, the hands of which clearly showed that it was still a couple minutes before 7:50.
“That is indeed our policy, Sir,” the matire d’ drawled, “But as you can see, you are precisely twenty-two minutes late.” A veil of silver magic sprouted from his horn and lifted a prim golden pocket watch from his waistcoat; indeed, the minute hand on the pristine clock was just barely past the number 10 mark. Fluttershy saw Mac’s apple green eyes widened in shock and his mouth worked uselessly, trying to produce sufficient words to turn back the hand on that tiny golden watch. “Therefore, I am afraid I must ask you to leave,” said the maitre d’, and with his nose in the air the cream unicorn began trotting swiftly away.
“No!” Fluttershy squeaked out, stopping the maitre d’ in his tracks. She could feel an unwelcome heat blooming on her cheeks; apparently her protest had been loud enough to attract the attention of several of the other patrons. ‘Too late to turn back now, Fluttershy’ she told herself resolutely. ‘Mac worked too hard for this night to be ruined by some big meanie.’ Ignoring the burn of humiliation that had erupted across her face, Fluttershy approached the maitre d’ and cleared her throat. “Please excuse me for shouting, but we’ve come so very far tonight, and it would just mean the world to us if you could perhaps allow us to fulfill our reservation?”
The maitre d’ quirked an eyebrow, but his otherwise impassive expression remained unruffled. “I am sorry for your troubles, Miss, but I cannot make an exception.” His eyes shifted quickly from Fluttershy to a spot just over her withers and then back again; the butter cream pegasus glanced behind her but didn’t see whatever had caught his eye.
“Isn’t there anything at all you could do?” She implored, her jade eyes shining in the glow of the chandeliers. The maitre d’ furrowed his brow and coughed before his eyes traced the same pattern as before. Fluttershy rubbed a hoof behind her head and looked around again, but could not discern the target of the maitre d’s gaze. The posh stallion rolled his eyes before clearing his throat much more loudly and not-so-subtly poking her little pink saddlebag with a hoof.
“Oh!” Fluttershy exclaimed, relieved to have caught on at last. Again her voice caught the notice of several of the other ponies in the vicinity, and she ducked her head in shame as the host gave her a scornful look. “Oh, um,” she fumbled, trying her best to extract a few bits from her purse without drawing further attention to herself. The meek pegasus finally managed to withdraw three bits and placed them in the stallion’s upturned hoof; the maitre d’ scoffed and gestured again towards her bag. Hiding behind her mane as much as possible, Fluttershy took out another four bits and gave them to the host.
“Young lady, you are aware that a bribe generally constitutes offering a substantial amount?” He whispered harshly. Fluttershy’s face felt as though it would soon ignite from redness and her spine seemed to crumble. At last she withdrew her ten remaining bits and placed them in the stallion’s hoof, her eyes trained on the ground and heavy with tears threatening to spill down her flaming cheeks. “It’s hardly a pittance,” he muttered, “but I suppose I can be charitable just this once.” Magicking the money into his pocket, the maitre d’ trotted swiftly back to his podium, Fluttershy trailing behind him with her head lowered. “I shall see what I can do,” he announced to Big Mac, who had been waiting in the doorway during the entire transaction. The crimson work horse started but said nothing until the host walked away again.
“What’d ya give him?”
“N-n-nothing,” Fluttershy said, looking anywhere but into her coltfriend’s honest eyes. “I j-just asked nicely if there wasn’t something he could do.” There was a long pause, and Fluttershy chanced a peek at Mac to find him looking blankly at her. He sighed and shook his head, but placed a light kiss on her forehead nonetheless.
“Ahem,” a pointed voice sounded behind them, startling the couple. The maitre d’ had returned and was levitating two menus before him. “If you will kindly follow me, I have managed to secure you a new table.” The pair followed his winding path through the decadently stacked tables where ponies sporting Canterlot’s finest fashions chattered to and fro. Back and forth they went, following the uptight host pony through the maze of elegant tables and glamorous guests, and just when Fluttershy was certain she would get nauseous from all the bobbing and weaving, the maitre d’ stopped abruptly and plopped the menus unceremoniously in front of them. “Good evening,” he said in his clipped tone, and with a sharp nod he departed, his nose still proudly stuck in the air.
He had left them at a tiny table, really only fit for one pony, at the very back of the restaurant in a nook next to the kitchen doors. Fluttershy had to leap out of the way as a black-jacketed waiter rushed past with a silver platter of food, and before the kitchen door swung shut behind him they could hear shouts and clatter erupting from the culinary center. Mac made a chivalrous attempt to pull her chair out for her, but could not manage to squeeze himself behind the wall and the chair, and in fact managed to get himself stuck for several moments before he was forced to sit in the chair himself. He gestured apologetically to his marefriend, who giggled softly and took the seat opposite him.
Their little corner was cramped and dark, for there was no tinkling crystal chandelier above their table to shed its warm golden light. Fluttershy squinted at the menu, then gasped and let it fall from her hooves.
“Mac, you didn’t tell me this place was so expensive!” she whimpered. “Twenty-two bits for celery soup?! More than thirty bits for spinach lasagna?!” Her eyes bulged and she shook her head in disbelief. She had expected the restaurant to be pricey, but a meal for the two of them here would cost her more than three months’ savings! “I just can’t let you spend that much, especially after they gave us so much trouble.”
“Don’t fret over it, darlin’,” Mac said, taking her slender hoof in his large calloused one.
“Well you have to at least help me pay—” Fluttershy started to say, but she quickly stopped herself as she remembered that the maitre d’ had relieved her of all her money. Big Mac raised an eyebrow knowingly.
“It’s alright, Ah knew how much it’d cost. An’ ya can’t tell me yer not hungry,” Big Mac said smiling at her, and at that moment her stomach decided to emit a particularly ferocious growl.
“I guess not,” Fluttershy admitted, grinning in spite of herself. “Everything does look delicious,” she said, picking up the menu again. She could feel herself salivating as she looked over the carte du jour; perhaps she would get the filhay mignon with a side of salted kale chips, and a decadent slice of carrot cake with cream cheese frosting for dessert. Eyes drinking in the succulent options, Fluttershy could practically feel her stomach gnawing on itself in anticipation. Getting there might have been stressful, but at least their meal would be delectable.
Or at least, that’s what she kept telling herself, because as the minutes slowly began to tick by and no waiter emerged to take their order, her stomach became increasingly vocal about its emptiness. ‘I’m sure they’re just very busy,’ the pegasus thought, eying the platters that kept whizzing out of the kitchen with envy. Twenty minutes after they sat down they had not even been offered so much as a glass of water, and Fluttershy was so hungry she felt about ready to eat the tablecloth. She couldn’t even manage to enjoy talking with her coltfriend, as every time the kitchen doors swung open the din of dozens of pots and pans drowned out their voices.
After thirty minutes Fluttershy felt about ready to pass out, and was on the verge of trotting straight into the kitchen and demanding a plate of whatever was nearest when a plum stallion in a sleek black tuxedo appeared at their table.
“Welcome to The Gilded Gelding,” he said, barely concealing the boredom in his voice. “My name is Blackberry Cabernet, I will be your sommelier this evening. May I suggest starting with—”
“—Actually, if it ain’t too much trouble, Ah think we’d rather jus’ skip the drinks and order our dinner. Do ya think ya might send out our waiter?” Mac interrupted, much to Fluttershy’s relief. She nodded her head enthusiastically, hoping that her stomach would not complain in front of the wine steward. Blackberry Cabernet let out a strangled noise that was halfway between shock and offense, turned sharply on his heel, and walked stiffly back towards the kitchen with his nose in the air. ‘Everypony sure does like keeping their noses up here…’ Fluttershy thought.
Apparently the sommelier had been greatly insulted, for their waiter did not appear for a further fifteen minutes. Though in all honesty, Fluttershy thought, even if Blackberry Cabernet had asked their waiter to come out he might not have done, for the second suited stallion was as snooty as the first. He was highly affronted that they did not want to order an appetizer and instead asked for their main courses, which he brought out from the kitchen forty minutes after they had placed their order.
Setting two plates before them, the waiter (who had not even bothered to give them his name) trotted off. Fluttershy hardly minded, however, and began cutting into her filhay mignon as quickly as she could. The food was barely lukewarm, but there was no denying its succulence as she savored the first bite in her mouth. She gazed over at Big Mac blissfully, only to see him staring at his plate rather than enjoying his meal.
“What’s wrong?”
“They brought me the wrong food,” Mac replied, sighing. “But Ah’m too hungry to care much.” He stabbed the lasagna, which was supposed to have been beet stew, with his fork and swallowed a huge mouthful of pasta and veggies.
“Careful, you’re going to make yourself sick!” Fluttershy half-joked, cutting herself another dainty bite of food. Big Mac chuckled, his cheeks tinged pink at her teasing. Fluttershy laughed too, but before she could take another bite she noticed that Mac’s face was flushed more deeply than his usual blush. His laugh, normally low and rumbling, came out as a wheeze, and beads of perspiration began trickling down his brow.
“Are you okay—?” Fluttershy was becoming more and more alarmed as Macintosh grasped wildly for his water glass and upended it over the table; his face was nearly purple and she realized he was not laughing but rather struggling to breathe. As Fluttershy frantically glanced around for more water she spotted a small brown half-circle protruding from the bed of spinach in his partially eaten lasagna. “Oh dear oh dear oh dear!” The poor pegasus shouted, desperately trying to free herself from her cramped chair to reach Big Macintosh, who by now had nearly collapsed on top of the table. “Somepony HELP!” she cried at the top of her voice, “he’s allergic to mushrooms!”
Thankfully, the ambulance didn’t take as long to arrive as their food had.