Pixie was perhaps the only pony in Las Pegasus whom River could say that she genuinely liked.
The realization of that had surprised her, back when she’d been on her extended vacation in the city while Vanhoover had been flooding. Virtually all of the ponies who moved in her social circle – both here and back at home – were ones that she’d quickly come to dislike, simply because getting into her social circle meant that they were her competitors, vying with her for influence, resources, and power. She might have respected them, since to do otherwise meant that she might underestimate them, but she didn’t care for them one bit. Nopony liked someone who was trying to displace them.
But Pixie, she’d come to learn, was different. Only a few years her junior, the unicorn mare was still fairly pretty for her age, with a rich coat of aquamarine. The grey that made up her mane and tail was lustrous to the point of looking almost silver in hue, which River knew was her natural color rather than being the result of age. And her cutie mark, showing a smiling peacock with its multicolor tailfeathers spread widely, was quite eye-catching. But most notable was her attitude: in sharp contrast to her husband, Jack Pot – and River herself, for that matter – Pixie was utterly lacking in ambition.
Or at least, she was lacking in sociopolitical ambition. When Pixie was on stage, acting as an assistant to her husband and his partner, Big Bucks, in their magic shows, her personality transformed, going from quiet and unassuming to bombastic and flamboyant. Combined with the extravagant outfits she always wore during those performances, it was hard to believe that her on-stage persona was so different from who she was the rest of the time. But the mare who would volunteer to be sawn in half in front of a gasping crowd, or give her husband a long and lingering kiss goodbye in case he couldn’t escape the tank of water he was about to be plunged into, was nowhere to be found when the audience was gone. Instead, there was a mare who’s only desire, to hear her tell it, was to keep putting on wonderful shows for everypony with her husband.
And amazingly, that seemed to be true. Over the course of the weeks she’d spent in Vanhoover, River had found out that Pixie played an important role in virtually all of the production aspects of Jack Pot and Big Bucks’ shows. She would help come up with the acts, coordinate with advertisers, book venues, and otherwise act as the mare who did most of the legwork that went into making them such enormous hits…and then she’d take virtually no credit for any of it. Everypony had heard of Jack Pot and Big Bucks, even if only in passing. Nopony knew who Pixie was.
“I don’t mind,” had been Pixie’s answer when River had finally asked her about the lack of credit she was receiving, pointing out that Pixie wasn’t getting nearly the benefits for her hard work that she could have. “Jack Pot and I are like a cake. I’m the doughy part, and he’s the frosting. Even if everypony likes the frosting the most, the rest of the cake’s still important. When’s the last time you had a bowl of frosting all by itself?”
So naturally, Pixie had been devastated to find out that Jack Pot wanted to spread his frosting on a different slice of cake.
“I can’t believe how blind I was,” sniffled Pixie. “He lied to me, not just once but over and over again, and I had no idea!”
“You poor thing,” cooed River sympathetically, even as she glanced up at Gladmane’s office again. He and Prince Blueblood had been in there for almost ten minutes now. What were they talking about?
Thankfully, Pixie was oblivious to her divided attention. “At first he said he was just looking into getting someone to help Big Bucks with his part of the routine, even though that was always my job! Then he started talking about maybe having a travel agent book our rooms when we were on tour, even though I’d always done that! And those letters…he said they were just from an adoring fan! And I believed him!”
This time River didn’t answer, seeing Gladmane stand up. Were they finished?! If they were finished, then they’d probably leave his office together, which meant that if she timed things right, she’d be able to bump into both of them. Or should she just focus on Blueblood and leave Gladmane for later…?
“You know how I finally found out? When I finally realized what was going on?” hiccupped Pixie, pausing to drain another drink, adding the empty glass to the growing collection in front of her. “When I walked in on them!” Her voice was filled with anguish now, not caring that she was starting to attract stares.
River didn’t care either. Silently counting how long it would take her targets to exit Gladmane’s office and walk down the stairs. Any second now…any second…
“We were cleaning up after one of our practice runs, and Jack Pot said that he was going to stay late because he wanted to look into maybe doing the Moonshot Manticore Mouth Dive,” continued Pixie miserably. “I thought he was just having a mid-life crisis! Hoofdini was the only one who could ever do that trick. But I didn’t think it was a big deal; he’d look at it and see it was impossible and move on. So I started to go home, except I’d barely gotten down the street when I realized that we hadn’t had anything to eat since lunch. I didn’t want him to go without dinner, so I picked up some General Po’s from his favorite takeout place, and went back to drop it off…and there they were…”
There they were! River’s eyes widened as she saw Gladmane emerge onto the floor of the casino, holding the door open as Prince Blueblood stepped out a second later. Jackpot!
“Jack Pot…he was…he with some mare I didn’t recognize, and he was…he was…” Fighting back a sob, she grabbed another drink, gulping it down. “He was showing her how to do the disappearing box trick!”
River nodded absently, already calculating the best vector of approach. She’d need to time this perfectly so that she could act like she was running into them on accident, which meant this little confessional episode needed to come to its conclusion immediately. Pixie was a sweet mare and all, but business came first. “Pixie, listen-”
“The disappearing box trick!” wailed Pixie, loudly enough that more casino patrons looked over at them…including, to River’s horror, Gladmane and Prince Blueblood. Reflexively, River spun in her seat, barely managing to avert her eyes before they made contact with either stallion’s and turning them back to her sobbing companion instead. For her part, Pixie hadn’t noticed a thing, coming to the climax of her story. “That’s the one where I climb into the box, and he puts the spears through it, and then makes a flash and disappears, only to climb out of the box himself a second later! And he was showing her how it’s done!”
“That, er, sounds terrible,” mumbled River, thrown completely off her game. Giving Pixie an awkward pat on the back, she desperately tried to focus on her peripheral vision, needing to see if Blueblood and Gladmane were still looking at them. But it was impossible to tell, not when the casino itself was still lively with ponies.
Inwardly, River snarled bitterly, certain that her good luck had just come to a spectacular end. It was enough to make her curse the now-thoroughly-inconsolable mare, immediately rescinding Pixie’s status as the only pony in Las Pegasus whom she liked. Now she’d lost her chance to approach both of those two on her own terms!
“Terrible?” echoed Pixie blearily, her eyes red as tears poured freely down her cheeks. “River, a magician never shows somepony how their tricks are done! Not the real ones! The disappearing box trick isn’t like sawing somepony in half! Everypony knows how that works! But he was showing her one of the hardest tricks to pull off! One that can only be done with two ponies! Don’t you know what that means?!”
“I, um…uh…” was all River was able to say, and not simply because she had no idea what Pixie was talking about. She wracked her brain, trying to think of some way to salvage the situation, but it was hopeless. As uncouth as Pixie was acting at the moment, River knew that blowing her off in order to go talk to Prince Blueblood would make her look callous and shallow, which wasn’t how she wanted to introduce herself to royalty! But dragging Pixie out of there wasn’t viable either; River was absolutely certain that even if she simply hauled the sobbing mare to the nearest alley and dumped her there, Blueblood would be gone by the time she got back. One way or the other, her opportunity to introduce herself to the prince was gone.
“It means he wants her to be his new assistant!” With that, the last of Pixie’s self-control shattered, and she began to bawl openly. “Twenty years of doing shows together, and now he wants to work with somepony else! It's the end of our marriage!” She reached for another drink, and it was only River’s grabbing her and pulling her back that stopped her from downing another. But her attempt to stop the situation from getting worse backfired an instant later as Pixie, mistaking River’s actions for an embrace, threw her forelegs around her in turn. “River!” she cried gratefully. “You’re my only friend! Everypony else has been saying all these awful things about us! Like that Jack Pot had been sleeping around on me, or that I tried to cheat on him with Big Bucks! It’s been horrible!”
I should have realized this would happen, moaned River silently. She’d assumed that Pixie’s quiet demeanor would remain intact while she talked, simply because that was how the mare always acted whenever she wasn’t performing. But now the combination of drinks, grief, and quite likely everypony staring at her had caused her to slip into her more audacious self, caterwauling her misery at the top of her lungs and latching onto River as though the other mare were her partner for her impromptu pity-party.
Sighing, River slowly climbed to her hooves, dragging Pixie up with her. If not for the fact that everyone was still watching them – and that likely included the prince, though she knew better than to look around and potentially make eye-contact, since that would only cement the memory of her being part of this shameful encounter if she did – she would have dumped the other mare on the ground right there and walked away in disgust, ready to cut her losses. Instead, she smiled and rocked Pixie gently, knowing she couldn’t afford to be so insensitive in front of so many. “There there,” she said quietly. “Let’s go get you cleaned up, okay?”
Nodding sadly, Pixie struggled to stay upright. “How…how do you do it, River?” she asked, her words halting thanks to residual sobs and how much she’d drunk. “How do you and…and Mounte Bank make your marriage work? You’re always running V-Vanhoover…but you’ve been together for…forever…”
“Oh, I think we can talk about that later,” replied River, despite having no intention of ever speaking to Pixie again after this. She’d cost her a golden opportunity with Blueblood, and likely Gladmane too. I can probably keep Razzle and Penny on board, though, she decided, trying to salvage something of the disaster that her evening had become. But there’s no way that’ll be enough for Lex…
“I say, wait a moment,” called a mellifluous male voice.
It took River a moment to realize that the voice was talking to her, pausing in her efforts to keep Pixie upright. When she did look over at whoever was talking to her, hoping that it was someone offering to take the other mare for her, she froze. It was-
“My name is Prince Blueblood,” smiled the handsome stallion, making no move to help her. Behind him, Gladmane was frowning, but kept silent as the prince spoke. “And I do believe my royal ears overheard your friend say that you’re River Bank of Vanhoover, aren’t you?”
Not knowing what was happening, River could only nod.
“Excellent! Why don’t you drop her off somewhere and then meet me back here in, say, twenty minutes? I’m sure you’d love to join me for dinner.”