//------------------------------// // Part II ~ Happy Hour // Story: On The Rocks // by 8_Bit //------------------------------// “So, you said we should get a dog.” “A dog? But I’m a-“ “Yeah yeah, allergic, I know.” While Octavia had opened up to me instantly about her past, one thing she hadn’t thought of asking until then was if there was anything else she'd said that night. Oh sweet Celestia, I’d forgotten about that joke until she asked. Her jaw dropped and her face turned bright red as I delivered the punchline. More like return to sender, if we’re gonna be frank about it. She’s so cute when she’s embarrassed. “You’re… you’re lying, you must be,” she said, shaking her head. Don’t let the drunk side of her fool you, don’t let her playful side fool you, and in the name of everything royal and equine, do not let her kinky side fool you. She is a very lah-di-dah prim and proper mare most of the time, so this was a big deal for her. I donned the widest, cheesiest grin I could work up. She could barely even look me in the eye. I kept up the face for a few more seconds, but her face was turning this adorable bright red, so I really couldn’t stop myself pulling her close to me and giving her a great big drooly kiss on the cheek. I got a playful nibble on the ear in return. Score! We’d come back to our compartment after the brave attempt at a breakfast by the trained monkey they must have in the kitchen. Honestly, I’m still scratching my head over how you can do hay bacon strips all wrong. It’s like, the easiest food to get right in all Equestria. “Oh, can you hear that?” Octy asked, her ears flicking slightly. Yeah, I could. Just over the rattling of the carriage and the chugging engine a few cars in front of us, I could hear a bell chiming not too far away. “We’re nearly there,” she said. She looked relieved for the end of the journey, but her tone of voice said something else. The sound of the Trottingham clock tower bell chiming must really have hit home for her that we were about to meet her parents, and she suddenly sounded concerned. ‘And now,’ I thought to myself, ‘she’ll find something to distract herself. Knowing her, making sure the cabin is tidy and the trunk is packed.’ The train began to slow down as it entered the rural area, the force of braking pushing us forward in our seat. Octy stood up, legs spread wide to steady herself as, yep she was pulling her ‘close inspection’ face, she checked around the small room. Her eyes darted about, making sure that it was exactly the way it was when we first walked into it (she’d even folded all the bedsheets, who does that?) and that all our stuff was packed into her old trunk. She refused to get rid of that scruffy old thing, even though it was damn near falling apart completely. I could still make out the crest of her boarding school on the front of it, though it was mostly faded out by now. “Come on,” she said, gesturing to the door once she’d circled the compartment a fourth time. “I want to beat the crowd.” All I could do was tut, and I grabbed the trunk with my magic and followed her out. See, what Octy fails to realise is that on these long distance, non-stop overnight services, the steam train at the front will lose all its water. Then it’s gotta refill its tank at the first stop of the morning, which means it’ll be there for a while. And, conveniently, ours is the first stop. The train will chill there for at least half an hour before it goes again, so Octy’s logic of beating the crowd is moot. It’d be a much better idea to wait a few minutes while everypony piles off the train, desperate for fresh air and to stretch their legs, and then go when the crowd shrinks down. But, I know better than to argue with this mare. So we do it her way when we travel. I’ve done enough of the long distance train journeys in my life to know the easiest way to travel. Being a quote endquote famous DJ lends itself to a lot of travelling. But then again, there’s the easy way to travel, the hard way to travel, and on top of that, there’s Octy’s way to travel. The less said about that, the better. So let’s just say Octy’s attempt to beat the crowd failed spectacularly. “Great plan,” I half yelled into her ear as we pushed through a crowd of ponies that felt way too big for a station with only one platform. The skies were dark and cloudy in every direction, but the mass of bodies made the platform humid and sweaty. “Beat the crowd, yeah, best plan ever.” “Oh shut up,” she shouted back. “Just keep a look out for my parents.” “Yeah, thanks for the advice. Never met them, just in case you’ve forgotten.” “Don’t be a smartarse.” “And by that, you mean ‘don’t correct me even though I’m wrong’.” “Stick-head.” “Mud-horse.” We slowly made our way through the crowd towards the ticket office, which itself was more packed out with ponies than the platform, so Octy guided us around to the side gate which led out to the front entrance. We found ourselves in yet another crowd, this one aimlessly loitering around a taxi rank, hoping beyond hope to get a taxi in rush hour. And I couldn’t help but notice a number of the ponies waiting were pegasi. I’ve heard Octy say the ponies around here were ‘too posh to piss’, but too posh to fly is a new one to me. And then the inevitable happened: Octy vanished into the crowd. She always does this I swear, I literally just turn my head away for like, a second, and she’s gone. I craned up as much as I could to try and see her, and just managed to catch sight of her slightly down the road as she went to hug somepony stood next to the fanciest looking carriage I’ve ever seen. And that’s saying something too, Neon Lights’ carriage would look like a lemon parked next to this thing. I guess she’s found our ride to her place. More or less managing to resist punching anypony in the face, I pushed my way through to the crowd just as Octy pulled away from the hug. The pony she’d hugged was definitely not related to her, not a chance. The teal unicorn looked ancient, eyeing me with a snobby indifference as he motioned to take our trunk. Looking at his outfit, I’d say he was a butler. “Vinyl, meet Bleathman,” Octy said, as he took our trunk and began strapping it onto the back of the carriage. “He’s been serving our family since before I was born.” “Charmed, I’m sure,” he said, barely looking at me as he continued to attach straps to our trunk. His accent was textbook ‘will that be all, mi’lady?’ that you’d expect from a butler, but he talked like he had gravel in his throat, which I guessed meant the dude was a heavy smoker. Old stallions who pretty much breathe tobacco seem to live forever. “’Sup dude,” I said, holding out a hoof. “Sunglasses are inappropriate when the weather is overcast,” he replied, walking straight past me to open the carriage door. “Vinyl is photophobic,” Octy cut in before I could say the cuss word brewing in my mouth. “Her eyes are particularly sensitive to light, the sunglasses are prescription.” Yeah, it’s true. I don’t shout about it though, nor do I really want snobby ponies I’ve never met to be told about my disability. My glasses just happened to work well with my career to give me a signature look. But I shouldn’t have to justify that, and Octy knows I don’t like talking about it. But she wouldn’t blab without good reason. So even though in my head, I wanted to take the buildup of cuss words and redirect some at her, I resisted. Instead, I bit my tongue, and contorted my muzzle into a saccharine sweet smile that didn’t betray the daggers my eyes were staring at… Goldman? Beachman? Fuck, already forgotten the dude’s name. Either way, he got an angry stare from me as I walked past him and sat down in the carriage. Octy slid in next to me as I sunk into the cushioned seat. Damn, it was even comfier than the couch at home. After spending the night on what I could only guess was a re-purposed high-school gym mat, it was heavenly. In fact, the whole dang interior of the carriage made our house in Ponyville look like a run-down cabin. Even in the daytime, the inside was lit by ornate glass lanterns filled with fireflies. I’ve been taxied around in some fancy rides before, but this was next level. Butler dude gave us both an emotionless smile as he closed the door, and the carriage leant over to one side as he climbed up onto the drivers seat. “To the Melody h’estate, if you would,” he said, probably to the stallions pulling the carriage. Again, that voice and that accent… damn I hoped nopony else in this town talked like that, else I was gonna have some some serious trouble keeping up with conversations. “Sorry,” Octavia said as the carriage started moving. She looked down awkwardly as she gently swayed her hind legs back and forth, like she always does when she’s feeling guilty about something. “I know you don’t like talking about your eyesight, but…” She sighed, and I gave her a reassuring rub on the shoulder. This gave her the courage to look up at me, but only for a few seconds as she looked back to her hooves. “The thing is about ponies around here,” she continued. “Social ettiquette is everything, and they don’t like anypony acting differently. Even if there’s a good reason. Sunglasses aren’t common attire, even when the weather is nice.” “If they’re gonna judge me either way, what’s the point trying to justify it?” She winced. “I guess I just felt like I should soften the blow somewhat. Bleathman always relays everything to my parents, good and bad. I didn’t want him to say something to Father that would give him cause to judge you poorly before he’s even met you.” I reached around, putting my foreleg around Octy’s shoulders. She didn’t resist as I pulled her closer to me, and once she was fully leant up against me, I felt her head come to a rest against my own shoulder. It juddered against me as the carriage bounced around on the cobbled roads, but she didn’t move away. Instead she stroked my chest with a gentle hoof, one of her go-to reassuring gestures. She was just trying to protect me. Damn, I love this mare. “It’s okay, Octy,” I whispered in her ear. “I kinda figured you wouldn’t blab about that unless you felt you really had to. Even if my gut reaction was to unload a curse or two.” Against my shoulder, I felt the muscles on her face contort into a smile as she gave a single chuckle. “Well we are in Trottingham, if you must swear then you’ll have to tone it down, lest you be run out of town by an angry mob,” she said. “What, like…” I thought for a moment. “Something along the lines of ’Oh heck, golly gosh and bloody buggeroo’?" I asked, doing my best dramatic impersonation of her accent. She guffawed, clutching her sides and rolling away from me in fits of giggles and snorts. Did I say how much I love it when she gigglesnorts? Because I love it when she gigglesnorts. It’s fucking adorable. “Too much?” I asked her when she finally caught her breath enough to look at me. Her lips were quivering, twisted upwards in a huge smile as she desperately fought back the urge to keep laughing. Whatever mental battle she was fighting, she was definitely outmatched. In fact, all it took me was a single raise of my eyebrows and boom, the floodgates opened again. Gigglesnorting, rolling around on the floor of the carriage, and generally making what she might call an ‘absolute nuisance’ of herself. Damn. I really love this mare. After she managed to compose herself, we sat quietly together for the rest of the ride, looking out the windows as the Trottingham streets passed by. Octy spent most of that cuddled up to me, with her head resting against my shoulder. She didn’t say it, but she was definitely nervous as all tartaurus. What she probably didn’t realise was that she was cuddled up so tightly against me, I could feel her pulse against my foreleg. It was so damn fast, her heart must’ve been beating out of her chest. Her grip tightened on me, just seconds before the carriage made a sharp turn to pass through a set of massive gates. I leant forward in my seat to get a better look. Ahead of us was one of the biggest mansions I’ve ever seen. And I’ve performed at private parties in Canterlot, so yeah, that’s saying something. The grounds of the estate looked like they went on for miles behind the house, with fancy gardens right behind and rolling woodlands further back. Damn, I knew she came from old money, but I hadn’t realised her family was this loaded. And I can honestly say, hoof on heart, I don’t give a shit about how rich she is. To me, our little house in Ponyville is the only place I call home. And that’s because she lives there in it with me. Her composure started to break down as she looked around, taking in the views of her childhood home, and she began to take slow, steadying breaths. I ran my hoof gently up and down her back, and leant over to give her a kiss on the forehead. This seemed to help, as she gave one long loud exhale and cleared her throat. “Just promise me one thing,” she said. “Please, please, whatever happens, just try not to fight with Father.” I gave a scoff. “Me? Please, I’m the Queen of diplomacy, ain’t nothing to it.” “No, seriously Vinyl,” she begged, as the carriage began to circle a humongous fountain right outside the front of the house. “No joking around, please don’t rise to anything he says that might… um, come across as intolerant.” All I could do was stare back for a few seconds, examining her face. Fear and desperation were the only things I could read from her expression. And a… pretty fucking bad thought dawned on me. ‘Was it a mistake to force her to bring me here?’ But, on her home turf, I at least owed it to her to march to her metronome. “Okay,” I said, as the carriage drew to a stop. The door swung open, and we were greeted by the sight of the butler dude who’d been driving the carriage. Hoffman? Beetleman? Damn, I ain’t good with fancy names. “Welcome home, Miss Melody,” he said. At least I think that’s what he said, on top of the smoker’s lungs keeping him breathing, he sounded like he'd gargled a mouthful of bugs during the drive. “Miss Scratch, welcome to the Melody h'estate.” He stepped aside, gesturing for us to exit the carriage. His tone of voice toward me made it sound like he was saying welcome to pond scum. We obliged, and as we stepped from the warm, firefly-lit interior into the dreary grey daylight, Octavia gave a sharp intake of air. There, on the top step leading up to the front doors, were her parents. I mean, they had to be her parents. As is pretty common with a lot of ponies, she literally looked like a mix of the two of them. Her mom smiled down at us, giving us a wave as we stepped out onto the cobbled driveway. She was a pretty mare, even for an older one. The kind of mare who ages like a fine wine, she was a cream coloured unicorn with Octavia’s mane and tail. Well, almost exactly Octavia’s mane and tail, the only difference being the grey hairs streaking down both, and the horn that parted her mane down the middle. Otherwise it was like looking at an older Octavia who'd decided to try painting her pelt. As I noticed her eyes were also the exact shade of purple I love so much in Octy’s eyes, the attention-deficit part of my brain started to wonder whether or not I might class her as a MILF. Ew, gross. Why does my mind dump weird shit like that on me? Then I noticed her dad, stood slightly apart from his wife. He barely seemed to have noticed us. In fact, while he was looking at us, it was like he was looking straight through us, admiring the carriage that had brought us here. He was an earth pony, with a short, well groomed mane and tail in frosty white. His pelt was the exact dark grey of Octy, and like her he wore a bow tie, but his was black. I had a hard time getting a read on him, his stoic expression and distant gaze betraying nothing discernable. I mean, lighten up dude, it’s just your daughter coming home for the first time in years. Crack a smile at least? The butler dude pushed past us. I barely had time to react as I spotted Octy’s trunk out of the corner of my eye, held aloft in his magic, as it got a bit too close to my head. With a loud thud and a ringing pain in my temple, it pushed right on past me as well, and being an inanimate object, it didn’t seem very concerned about the fact my skull had been blocking its path. Octavia immediately rushed to my side, resting a reassuring hoof on my shoulder. I stumbled slightly as stars filled my vision, and I think I heard Octy’s mom gasp in horror. Falling to my haunches, I grabbed my head with both hooves as pain flooded every inch of my brain, clenching my eyes tightly shut as the dull light suddenly seemed overpowering. It felt like the careless old fogey got me with the corner of that damn trunk. Now I was kinda glad I couldn’t remember the dude’s name, even if I hadn’t forgotten it already, he probably would’ve managed to whack it right outta my short term memory just then. I was only vaguely aware of the other things going on around me, as the point where the trunk had knocked me throbbed like a bitch. However, behind the ringing in my ears and the tender reassurances Octy was whispering to me, I could hear gentle hoofsteps tapping closer and closer. The steps grew louder and louder until they were right in front of me, at which point I felt somepony lightly take my head in their hooves, and raise it up to be level with them. Pretty startled by this, I dared to peek open one of my eyes, and saw Octavia’s mom right up in my face, looking at the side of my head with an expression of sympathy and concern. “Oh you poor dear,” she said, wincing as she examined me. Her accent was somehow even more prim and proper than Octy’s. “Oh that was a nasty bump. You’ll have to excuse poor old Bleathman, he’s getting a tad clumsy in his senior years.” I gave a uneasy chuckle, but even that sent another wave of pain through my skull. Octy’s mom seemed to notice this, as she gave another wince and turned my head so she was looking me right in the eye. “That’ll need an ice pack. Tell you what, let’s get you and Octavia settled in your rooms, I’ll arrange for some ice to be sent up from the kitchen, and the two of you can unpack and relax a little. We’ll have tea and crumpets in the gazebo for lunch in about an hour, sound good? Oh where are my manners, you must be Vinyl Scratch! Well, my name is Allegra, I’m Octavia’s mother. And my husband is…” she trailed off, pausing to look behind her. My eyes followed her as she looked around, back all the way up the staircase where Octy’s dad hadn’t moved from his spot. He nodded towards the butler as he passed, our trunk still floating along behind him. As he turned back to face us, the only change in him I could make out was in his expression. His previously emotionless face had given way to the tiniest of smirks. Oh, it’s like that, huh? “And my husband up there,” Allegra continued, still facing away from me. “Who should really be coming down here to greet his daughter and her partner, is Staccato.” She turned back to face me, but gave me another wince. “Oh and I’m so terribly sorry about your glasses, we can arrange for them to be replaced I’m sure. But the good thing about Trottingham weather, I suppose you’re not likely to need them!” She chuckled at her own joke as she let go of me, and turned to embrace her daughter. As I blinked, adjusting my eyes to the light as the throbbing in my head eased off slightly, I saw what she was talking about. The lens on the side of my glasses where butler dude had whacked me? It had a huge crack running down the middle, with splinters shooting out from it in all directions. Squinting in anticipation of the light in my eyes, I reached up with a hoof to adjust the frame, but the slightest movement caused fragments of polarised glass to spill out. Stunned, I looked up at Staccato, still motionless and smirking at the top of the stairs. Then I turned towards where Octavia and Allegra were stood, with mother holding her daughter in a tight embrace. Octy’s face was visible over her mom’s shoulder. Her expression was… pretty much what I felt like mine must have looked like at that exact moment: eyes wide, mouth hanging open, lower jaw quivering in disbelief. The butler dude broke my glasses. I know it’s a taboo word, pretty much the most unacceptable curse word anywhere. But right now, it’s the only word that seems to sum up my feelings properly. So I’ll say it. Their butler is a c**t.