It would only be much later when Goldengrape realized that, if he hadn’t agreed to cover for a coworker for a little bit, he probably never would’ve met her.
But then again, it was impossible to miss the group as they entered, for being all griffons they contrasted sharply with the little diner’s predominately pony clientele. Most of the group were behaving quite jovially, chatting animatedly between themselves as they piled into the closest empty booth and squeezing together so to all fit. However one griffoness instead separated herself from the others, moved to the other end of the diner, and grumpily plopped herself down at the sit-down counter near where Goldengrape normally spent his shift working the smoothie machine.
“Can I get some service here?” she requested rather irately to no one in particular. She spotted Goldengrape. “How about you, Grapes?” she pressed, no doubt referring to his grape-themed cutie mark.
So since he was the closest, Goldengrape hurried over to take her order, professionally straightening the powder blue mane out of his face in the process. “Welcome to Canterlot Diner, how can I—” he abruptly cut himself short upon noticing that despite the griffon’s angry body language, her eyes were puffy and wet from trying to repress tears. “Goodness, are you alright?” he asked without thinking, his focus shifting instead to her emotional state.
“I’m just having a bad night,” the griffon grumbled, reflexively curling in upon herself at the stallion’s attention. “It’s really not any of your concern.”
“Well…maybe,” Goldengrape conceded, “But is there still anything I can do to make your night a little better?”
Despite not really looking like she was in the mood to humor him, the griffoness nonetheless considered it for a moment. “Just…get me something to drown my sorrows in, Grapes.”
“We don’t serve alcohol here, I’m afraid.”
“Next best thing then.”
Goldengrape thumped the counter with his hoof decisively. “I know just the thing.” he turned back to the smoothie machine and quickly whipped together his personal specialty—a white grape smoothie with a dollop of whipped cream on top. “I find this always helps soothe me,” he said as he put the finished drink before her.
The griffon eyed both it and him skeptically for a moment before snatching it up and starting to slurp it down. While she did, Goldengrape took the moment to give her a precautionary look over. Other than her emotional state, the mostly chestnut brown griffon didn’t seem to be injured. In fact, she was fairly cleanly groomed from the tip of her brown tail tuff to the crest of white feathers with pale green tips which swept stylishly towards the back of her head. Her clothes consisting of an unzipped blue hoodie—all the griffons in her group were wearing matching hoodies—and a grey scarf worn underneath were even pristine. Therefore, Goldengrape concluded she hadn’t been in any physical fights. Nevertheless, the griffon oozed the unpleasantness of a creature who’d been hurt, if not physically than more likely verbally.
“You…sure you’re okay?” Goldengrape asked again uncertainly. The griffoness was probably right and it wasn’t any of his concern, but at the same time, the paranoid side of his mind thought that…if someone was being unjustly abusive towards her…
“I’m fine,” the griffon nonetheless stressed again, but she didn’t sound as resolute about it now. Thumping down her emptied cup, she let her head rest on the counter with a heavy sigh, the fight going out of her. “Like I said, things just…aren’t going my way tonight, that’s all.”
“Well…your friends seem to be doing okay,” Goldengrape noted, nodding his head towards the rest of the griffons excitedly getting their orders taken from one of his coworkers.
The griffon allowed herself a not quite invisible smile at that. “They should, though. It’s a time to celebrate for them.”
“But not you?”
“It’s just…” the griffon sighed and sat up again, rubbing the teary wetness away from her eyes. “Okay, so I’m an accountant, right? And I just got back from meeting with Greg…”
“Greg?”
“This griffon investor I coordinate with, and since his office is here in Canterlot and I was in town, it seemed like a good time to sit down and talk numbers with him.”
“But the meeting didn’t go well?”
“No, not for me, since it was spent mostly with him tearing me a new one.”
“What? Why?”
“I don’t know! Financially speaking, we actually did pretty well this month! We broke even and turned a decent profit, but I guess that’s not good enough for him because he kept going on and on about us not making way more and it…got heated enough that things were said that wouldn’t be good for your sensitive pony ears.” she gave one of Goldengrape’s yellow ears a teasing flick.
He gave the ear a scratch with his hoof. “I’m sorry to hear that though.”
The griffon gave a frustrated shrug. “Either way, there’s not a whole lot you can do to change it, although I appreciate the concern, Grapes.”
“Goldengrape, actually,” he offered gently, motioning to his uniform’s nametag. “And, well…you’ll find I like making our customers happy anyway, Miss…?”
The griffoness raised an eyebrow at his prompting, but since she knew his name, she relented. “Greta,” she replied, “the Svelte Greta though, not the Big Greta.”
Now Goldengrape was the one raising an eyebrow. “…I’m sorry?”
“It’s an in-joke—there’re two Gretas here, me and another one.” She twisted around to point a talon at her compatriots. “See the big griffoness sitting in the corner of the booth?”
Goldengrape looked and blinked. “You mean the big brown one that’s basically all muscles?”
“That’s the one! We’ve started calling her Big Greta so everyone knows we’re talking about her.” Greta then jokingly struck a sultry pose, “while calling me Svelte Greta, for obvious reasons.” Goldengrape snickered at her antics, and since Greta shared it, it seemed he was succeeding in cheering her up a little. She went on. “Anyway… what I really need is just something to take my mind off it and a full stomach seems like a good place to start.”
“Well then,” Goldengrape switched gears by going back to taking her order. “What’s sounding good to you?”
Greta considered it for a moment. “Mmm…I’m feeling like something spicy.”
Goldengrape gathered a mental list of dishes he knew fell into that category and started from the top. “Well, we have a pepper-seasoned hayburger…”
“Spicier.”
“We also have chili hayfries…”
“Spicier,” Greta motioned for him to stop and cut to the chase. “What’s the spiciest thing you guys offer?”
Goldengrape bit his lip. “Well, I guess that would be the Dragonfire Burrito, but…”
Greta’s eyes lit up at that. “Dragonfire Burrito? Now you’re talking! What’s all in it?”
“Well, it’s a peppercorn tortilla filled with a layer of beans and rice slathered in spicy salsa, a layer of sliced jalapenos, then a layer of special hot sauce, all wrapped around a diced core of the world’s spiciest natural pepper, the dragonfire pepper, and topped with melted pepper jack cheese.”
“Sweet!” Greta declared, clearly interested as she rubbed her forepaws together eagerly. “How many can I order at a time?”
Goldengrape’s eyes bulged. “Most creatures only order one.”
Greta seemed to take that as a challenge and gave him a sly look. “I think we’ve established I’m not your average creature by now, Grapes.”
Goldengrape made a resigned shrug then. If that’s what the customer wants… “In that case, you might as well go all in and try for the Dragonfire Challenge.” He pointed at a nearby placard on the wall behind him. “If you can successfully get down five or more Dragonfire Burritos within an hour, your meal is free and you get your name put on the champion list.” As said list was currently fairly short, he hoped that would give Greta an idea of what she was getting herself into.
But if anything, it only seemed to spur the griffon onward. “Well then,” she concluded and eager to begin, “bring on the burritos!”
The waitress Goldengrape was covering for returned shortly thereafter, leaving the stallion to go back to his usual duties manning the smoothie machine. As such, he didn’t really get to interact more with Greta for the remainder of his shift. Not that he was unaware of what she was doing during that time though, because once her friends learned she was going for the Dragonfire Challenge, they all relocated around her so to root her on. When Greta inevitably succeeded at beating the challenge upon finishing her fifth consecutive burrito, it was hard to miss it due to how much cheering there was from the whole group.
And then, even after the rest of her friends had finished their meals, paid, and left the diner, Greta stayed longer and kept going. She was finishing off her eighth burrito by the time Goldengrape went to clock out, at which point her face was quite flushed and eyes watering due to all the spiciness that’d passed through her beak. But unlike when she had first stepped into the diner, she looked satisfied and in a much better mood, pleasing Goldengrape.
“I’m amazed you actually got all of those down,” he remarked to her as he passed by on his way out.
“Oh, I’m sure I’ll end up paying for it tomorrow during my inevitable date with the toilet,” Greta assured with a crude laugh while she finished off with another smoothie, probably to wash away the lingering burn of the spices still in her mouth. Goldengrape noticed the smoothie was also a white grape flavor, like the one he’d served her at the start of the evening. She meanwhile took notice of how the yellow stallion seemed prepped to go. “You leaving, Grapes?”
“My shift ended for the night, yeah,” Goldengrape replied. “But I’ll still commend you for your burrito-eating skills before I go.”
Greta laughed again. “Well, thank you for humoring me in any case,” she said. Her grin was genuine. “It…really did help.”
Goldengrape returned the smile. “You’re welcome,” he said.
Greta proceeded to finish off her smoothie and began fishing around in a coin purse for bits—Goldengrape assumed it was for a tip since Greta’s meal should’ve been free after beating the Dragonfire Challenge. “So you’re calling it a day, huh?”
“Yeah, gotta get going to the carriage bus stop up the street and head for home,” Goldengrape explained, pointing vaguely in its direction.
Greta perked up at that. “How about that, so do I,” she noted as she also geared up to go. She seemed amused by this turn of events. “And everybody’s probably wondering what happened to me by now so I better get going too.” She stood up to follow him. “You aren’t weirded out if I join you, right? It’s just we’re heading in the same direction either way, so…”
“No, no, that’s okay,” Goldengrape assured, a little surprised but honestly not minding some company. The trip back to his apartment was usually somewhat lonely at this hour anyway.
So they exited the diner and stepped out into the darkening Canterlot streets. They silently walked side by side while somewhat awkwardly trying to not be awkward about it. By the time they reached the first corner, the awkwardness became critical enough that Greta cleared her throat and attempted to cut the tension.
“So…” she began, trying to make small talk, “…thanks again for…you know…helping improve my mood. I know I was kinda in a rotten one when I came in.”
“I’m just glad I could help,” Goldengrape reassured her. “If any customers can leave happier than when they came in then I know I did my job right.”
“Sweet Grover, did you ever,” Greta replied with an amused snort. She went quiet for a moment as they crossed the street. She looked up at the clock tower of a nearby building. “You know, the next carriage bus is going to be a few more minutes, so we’ve still got some time to kill,” she reasoned aloud. Making another awkward shift, she glanced uncertainly in his direction. “…you wanna get a quick drink?” When Goldengrape gave her a surprised look, blushing, she laughed. “Nah, nah, nah, I don’t mean like that.” She hip checked him teasingly. “You’re cute, but you’re not that cute. No, I’m just returning the favor you gave me.”
Goldengrape nonetheless flustered to himself for a moment, flattered she apparently thought him cute at all. “Well…that’s nice of you, but uh…I don’t really drink.” His blush deepened in embarrassment. “Turns out I’m…too much of a lightweight.”
“Ah,” Greta hummed in understanding. “Don’t sweat it, my cousin’s the same way. It doesn’t have to be alcoholic anyway. It can just be something simple, like…like that!” She pointed directly ahead of them where a simple stand was set up between two buildings and its owner loudly promoting his wares. Goldengrape couldn’t recall seeing it there before so he figured it must be new. Greta ran ahead to it and began reading the sign listing its wares before furrowing her speckled brow. “The heck is a party potion?” she asked aloud.
“It’s a potion that temporarily imbues the drinker with amusing little effects,” the stand owner, an unremarkable looking pony, answered as Goldengrape caught up. “You two interested? I’ve got a good deal on the specials going.”
“I’ve had party potions like these a couple of times before,” Goldengrape said when Greta hesitated. “They’re harmless by design. Worst case you get a potion whose effect does something silly, like making your face turn orange for a couple minutes.”
Greta took that as a vote of approval and shrugged her shoulders, fishing out a couple of bits. “Sure, we’ll take two,” she told the stand owner.
“Two specials coming right up,” the stand owner said and was soon handing them both a flask apiece.
Greta clinked hers off of Goldengrape’s. “To happier days,” she toasted.
“Hear, hear,” Goldengrape readily agreed before they both jointly gulped down their potions.
The next thing Goldengrape reliably remembered was waking up feeling very groggy and his hooves leaden. He squeezed his closed eyes tighter, debating whether or not to keep sleeping in hopes that would make the feeling go away. How long had he been up last night anyway? When attempting to recall, he realized with alarm that he couldn’t actually remember going to bed…or for that matter, returning to his apartment. That thought was then swiftly compounded with the uncertainty of what time it was now. How long had he been asleep? Did he sleep in too late? Was he going to be late for his next work shift?
Then all of those thoughts were chased away upon realizing there was something big and warm curled up against his back. His blood couldn’t decide on whether to freeze in terror or combust in mortification when the implications sank in like a rock dropped in a pond. Slowly and cautiously, he rolled over praying for everyone’s benefit that it wouldn’t be who he thought it was, but he would have no such luck—Greta lay next to him in the quite disheveled bed, still asleep and drooling slightly onto her pillow. Naturally, this only redoubled the unsavory implications in Goldengrape’s mind while also bringing further questions about just what happened last night. The fact he noticed both of them had been stripped of the garments they’d worn last night didn’t help any. Worse still, it still didn’t jog his memory, leaving him with no idea what the answers would be.
His first reaction was to do absolutely nothing to disturb Greta, fearing what her reaction to finding him in bed beside her might be, before deciding that if Greta recalled what happened then he’d rather hear it from her anyway. “Greta,” he gently hissed, trying to gently nudge her into waking, “Hey, Greta!”
On his third try, Greta snorted and began to stir. “Wha…?” she mumbled as she groggily cracked open her eyes and somewhat lifted her head. She looked blankly at the yellow stallion for a moment. “…Grapes?” she murmured in momentary confusion before realization struck her all at once and she vaulted out of the covers, scrambling to the edge of the bed and startling Goldengrape. “Whoa, whoa, WHOA—what the budgie are you doing in my bed?!”
“What am I—what are YOU doing in my bed?!” Goldengrape countered back as he likewise scrambled backwards, moving into a sitting position.
Greta then blanked out again. “Wait, whose bed is this?”
They both stopped short at that then proceeded to glance around, taking in their surroundings for the first time. They were in a generic economy class hotel room, bearing a single bed and all of the usual amenities. However the room had seen cleaner days as not only was the bed a rumpled mess, so were all of the other provided linens, left in heaps seemingly at random throughout. Their missing clothes were also piled unceremoniously in a corner, as if dumped in distracted haste. And to top it all off, several empty bottles littered the floor accompanied by the unpleasant odor of stale alcohol.
Goldengrape had never been in this room before in his life and didn’t even know where it was located within Canterlot. “Well, it’s not mine…” he began uncertainly, reluctant to admit it as it didn’t exactly help his position any.
Greta, meanwhile, had buried her face into her palms. “It’s mine,” she hissed in dismay. “This is the hotel room I’ve been staying in. Goldfinches, I’m lucky I was the griff of my group to get a room to myself or else this could’ve been way more awkward…”
Goldengrape didn’t even want to consider that theoretical. “How…how did we get here though?” he asked. “I…don’t really remember anything after leaving the diner last night…”
“I was hoping you’d tell me, because I sure as heck can’t remember either!” Greta snapped, though less in anger with the stallion and more just this mess they’d awoken to. She sighed as the fight left her as swiftly as it appeared, wearily regarding the ransacked hotel room again. “Well…I hope we at least had fun…” but then the pale green speckles of her brow scrunched together in confusion and she rubbed at her forehead. “Wait a minute, no, I couldn’t have gotten drunk last night—I don’t have any kind of hangover right now.”
Goldengrape blinked, realizing he wasn’t feeling any such symptoms either. “Yeah, good point, all I’m feeling right now is a bit groggy.” He glanced cautiously at the griffon beside him. “…you?”
Greta pondered it for a second. “Well, my stomach feels kinda upset, but I think that’s just from all those burritos.” She rubbed at her belly for a second before giving it a thump as if that’d help settle it. Of course it didn’t, instead forcing out a burp sourly smelling of digesting beans and peppers.
Goldengrape anxiously surveyed the room again, not liking how it looked and feeling like he was starting to flounder inside of the deepening mystery. “Greta,” he began cautiously, needing to know. “You don’t think we…I mean surely we didn’t…”
He couldn’t bring himself to say it, but fortunately Greta understood what he was getting at. She gritted her beak in a hiss and rubbed the back of her head. “Honestly, Grapes? I’m…I’m not totally sure.” She glanced around again herself. “But uh…it’s certainly looking like we might’ve…ah…”
Before she could finish though, there was a sudden pounding on the room’s door, startling them. They barely had time to react to that before the lock clicked and the door burst open, allowing a squadron of pony police officers to flood inside and surge towards the two occupants.
“DON’T MOVE!” one of them ordered as the stallion and griffoness were swiftly surrounded, “FORELEGS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM!”
Goldengrape and Greta immediately threw their hooves and paws into the air. “What’s going on?!” Goldengrape exclaimed in alarm.
A plain clothes detective pushed his way to the front of the group. “Goldengrape and Greta Griffon?” the unicorn asked sternly.
“Yes?” both creatures answered simultaneously.
The detective nodded to the officers who proceeded to grab and cuff the two. “You two are under arrest for the murder of Greg Griffon.”
Goldengrape and Greta shot each other a horrified look before snapping back to the detective. “WHAT?!”