Melodious Desideratum

by Desideratium


Octavia

“He says hi,” Symphony slides into her seat.

Octavia looks up from her menu. The violinist gazes at her with a knowing look. “Well, that’s considerate of him.”

“I think he wanted to tag along, but the doctors wouldn't allow it.”

“I see.”

Symphony noses her menu open and begins to peruse the entrees. Octavia studies her carefully, taking in every detail of her demeanor. Ever since her performance before rehearsal on that fateful day, it seems like the rest of the orchestra is trying to pair Octavia with the new pianist, and the instigator seems to be the pony sitting across from her.

The waiter appears, a notepad and pen hovering near his face. He looks pointedly at Octavia. “Are you ready to order, miss?”

Symphony looks up, annoyed that she wasn’t acknowledged. “You order first, Octavia. I need just a second to decide.”

“That’s fine.” Octavia closes her menu and offers it to the unicorn. “I will take the peanut and apricot salad with your raspberry vinaigrette. Hold the onions.”

“Of course.”

Symphony places a hoof on an item on the menu. “What sauce does the hay burger come in?”

“Er, there is no sauce.”

“Then add one. Barbeque sauce will suffice.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The waiter takes the menus and vacates the table. Octavia turns to Symphony, an exasperatedly patronizing look on her face. “You do realize where we are, of course.”

“Yes. The Paradigm. Finest Canterlotean cuisine that can be found.”

“And you ordered a hay burger. Well done, Symphony. Well done.”

“And what, pray tell, is wrong with that?”

“When I reserve a table for us in such an expensive place.” Octavia puts a fair amount of stress on the word. “I don’t expect you to order something that could be found for two bits at Doughnut Joe’s.”

“Okay, so sue me. I don’t fit into the upper-class cliques as well as you do, Octavia.”

Octavia, smiling to herself, affixes her gaze on her glass of spring water so she doesn’t have to look at the staged look of offense on Symphony’s face. She toys with the lime wedge clinging into the rim of the glass with her hoof, one of the many nervous habits she constantly utilizes. Her fun does not last for very long, however, because a particularly vigorous prod dislodges the fruit’s grip and sends it tumbling into the water.

Symphony laughs at Octavia’s vaguely disappointed look. “Having fun?”

“Yes, actually. I found an extraordinary amount of entertainment from that citrus. It was really speaking to me.”

“Was it giving you insightful advice?”

Octavia can see where this is going, and hopes to avoid that conversation. “Not particularly. Limes aren’t known for being a deep reservoir of wisdom. The most that you could hope for from them is small talk.”

A stallion at the table next to the musicians’ sends them a concerned look, desperately confused by their conversation. Symphony smiles winningly at him, and he goes back to his salad, sheer bewilderment consuming his features.

“Did your small talk involve anypony?” Symphony continues. “Like a stallion?”

And they’ve arrived on the subject that Octavia considered to be taboo. “No, actually,” she answers simply, trying not to give Symphony any more ammunition to use against her.

“Are you sure?”

“Symphony, I know what you’re trying to convey. Believe me, I am absolutely positive. I did not intend to attend a meal with you with the sole purpose of discussing who you think I should get together with.”

“Okay, I’ll let it happen on its own. No need for me to prod you two in the right direction.”

“My thoughts exactly. Minus the portion of that sentence that involved it happening on its own.”

The waiter reappears, a pair of dishes enveloped in blue magic levitating in front of him. “Your meals.”

“That was quick,” says Symphony, impressed, as her burger assumes its position in front of her.

The waiter looks at Octavia uneasily, who smiles pleasantly. “Yes, ma’am. We pride ourselves in service here at the Paradigm.”

Symphony flips the top bun off her burger to examine the quality. Once the item on her plate has passed inspection, she nods approvingly, giving the nervous-looking waiter the signal that he is free to leave. “So, what was that look? Was he, like, an ex of yours?”

“Symphony, you’re showing far too much interest in my social life, and I’m not sure if I appreciate it or not. You had just commented on how promptly they prepared our food. The reason he looked so uncomfortable is because first time I was here, I may have intimidated him a bit when it took an hour and a half for them to produce food for Vinyl and I. Ever since, their normally very slow service has been satisfyingly quick.”

“Brilliant, Octavia.”

Octavia smiles, then gently lowers her face into her salad and begins to eat.

The crisis has been averted, Octavia had successfully avoided mention of the pianist. She simply can’t talk about him honestly to Symphony, it would be too painful.

Like Symphony had said, hopefully it will happen of its own accord.