Convention Hotel

by Admiral Biscuit


Courtship

Courtship
Admiral Biscuit

Starry Eyes looked across the outside pool and lounge areas to his current object of affection, Honey Rays. She was stretched out on one of the chaise lounges, preening her feathers and occasionally taking a sip of her mojito.

He wasn’t the smoothest pegasus, he knew that full well. Any other stallion might fly up to her, land on the other end of her chair, and puff out his chest to show interest. He might fly off the roof and down to the harbor to catch a fish, and present it to her, still wiggling.

Or if it were early spring, he might gift her a mouthful of sticks, suitable for a nest.

Starry Eyes wasn’t all that good at fishing. He’d grown up inland, and while he was decent at catching fish in shallow streams, the open water of the harbor baffled him. The fish could be anywhere in there, and he had no idea how to find them. Likewise, nesting materials wouldn’t be appreciated. Not only was it too late in the year for that, but the hotel blankets were more comfortable. Even the towels were more comfortable.

Besides, he wasn’t interested in raising a family. Nesting materials might send the wrong message.

He trotted up to the edge of the roof and then made a short hop-flight onto the border planters. He wasn’t sure what those were for; the hotel staff didn’t like ponies nibbling on them, although why would they plant grasses and tasty bushes if they weren’t meant to be snacked on?

He paced along the thin cement edge, occasionally flapping his wings for balance as he skirted a bush. He could smalltalk, but he wasn’t any good at initiating the conversation. He had to give Honey Rays something, and then he could work from there.

His eyes left her for a moment as he slipped on the edge, looking instinctively down at what was underhoof. Starry didn’t register what he’d caught out of the corner of his eye immediately; it wasn’t until he’d turned the corner and she was out of view that he paused and looked down again.

The planter wasn't filled with dirt, but with little pebbles.

They were boring rocks, dirt-colored, too small to be of any interest, but it set a chain of thoughts off.

I’ll get her a rock. Mares love rocks.

Not these rocks, of course, but downstairs around the elevators, he’d seen planters full of exotic black shiny rocks, glistening like obsidian although they weren't as glassy.

If he’d been on the other side of the bush, he would have gone through the door into the hotel the normal way, but he was closer to the fence, so he flew up and over, then down and around to the front of the hotel. Oftentimes, such a flight would include a lap around the hotel, or perhaps across the street and over the harbor, since that was more fun. In the morning, the hotel itself had some pretty good thermals coming off the slanted glass roof of the atrium, and a pony who was patient could loft above the hotel with very little effort.

He was a stallion on a mission, so he did none of that. He dropped down alongside the parking garage, then three floors down he flew through it, coming out the other side after narrowly missing a Mini Cooper making its way up, and dropped down on the other side, looping around the flagpoles and then he made a neat landing out front.

He’d long since figured out the revolving door, being one of the few pegasi who often entered at ground level.

He did forgo riding on the escalator, since it was quicker to follow its path up while airborne.

Just as he’d remembered, the elevators were bordered with a pony-high wall, and atop that wall was a treasure-trove of shiny black rocks.

Starry Eyes had no desire to be clipped by a passing elevator, so he stayed away from them, instead hooking his forelegs on the wall as he looked along the rock garden for a suitable specimen. They had a lot of rocks; surely they wouldn’t miss one of them.

The wall zig-zagged back and forth, matching the elevators’ profile, and he saw the rock he wanted at the point of the third zag.

He looked around to make sure that nobody was watching, then darted in and picked it up, much like he would have caught a fish if he’d found one to catch.

Then he was off, airborne before anybody could steal his prize, the rock for his beloved. Inside the hotel was a challenging environment, full of pillars and when he went high enough, steel beams and a sloping glass roof. He overcame those challenges, and after he’d gone up and over the sixth-floor balcony, he made his way to the mundane glass door that led to the outside.

That led to Honey Rays.

He pranced up the slight incline to the patio and the pool area, the rock held safely in his mouth. Honey Rays was in the pool, splashing around in the shallow end, and it was rude to interrupt a lady when she was bathing so he watched and waited until she climbed out of the pool and shook herself off—much to the dismay of humans sunbathing nearby—and made her way back to her chaise lounge.

He timed it perfectly, landing after she’d completed her third circle of her towel but not before she fluffed her wings, and dropped the rock at her in front of her.

Honey’s ears perked and she pushed the rock with a forehoof, sliding it along the towel and towards herself.

That was a good sign.

But then she frowned and stuck her muzzle down against it, sniffing and pushing. Starry Eyes unfluffed his chest as she batted it off the chaise.

“Dude, really? That’s a fake plastic rock.”