//------------------------------//
// Chapter 5 
// Story: Dusk 
// by DuskbeforeDawn 
//------------------------------//


Deal Making and Muffins

Slight Luck shook one the iron tables of The Little Rose café- and it wobbled on it’s three good legs. He leaned back as the trio waited for their food. Inkwell was eyeing the books in Slight Luck’s bag, avarice clearly her intent, and Scribe sat running his hoof over the table in a rhythmic motion. Slight Luck glanced around the café, and did his best to look out the window, but his eyes were nowhere near magical enough to penetrate the thick layers of caked on dirt, rust, and Celestia-knows-what. 
“Would you stop that!” said Inkwell suddenly, making both stallions jump. Scribe shushed her and returned to his meanderings.  
“What?” Luck asked indignantly. 
“You have been looking around the restaurant every two minutes since we got here.” She whispered loudly enough to make her irritation known, but not too loudly as to let the few other patrons in on their conversation.. 
“Just keeping a look out for health inspectors dear.” 
“What is it like being a pathological liar?”  
“I just like to think of every question in life as multiple choice.” 
A lime green pony brought them their food: strawberry cake and earl grey tea for Inkwell, coffee with a blueberry muffin for Slight Luck, and some chicken soup for Scribble Scribe. 
“Dear lord, the food actually looks like the pictures!” Luck picked up his muffin and checked it for mold. Inkwell groaned and drank her tea in the most condescending manner possible. Scribble Scribe was now slinking his hoof around in his soup. 
“Now, don’t do that.” Inkwell said gently taking his hoof out the soup and giving him a spoon. Scribe starred at it for a moment before he began slinking his spoon around in his soup. 
“What’s your name pal?” Slight Luck asked, his mouth full of muffin as he looked around the café again. 
Scribble scribe dropped his spoon and looked up at Slight Luck. “You forgot my name?” his eyes darted around. “But Ulie, why, how does that even?” he shifted around in his seat before turning to Inkwell, “You remember me don’t you Peggy?” Inkwell froze, she looked around, sweat sliding down her face. 
“She isn’t Peggy, her name is Inkwell.” Slight Luck said, apathetically. “Also, I’m not Ulie, call me Lucky.” The blue pony shook and looked around the restaurant, mumbling words of nonsense. Inkwell then struck Luck on the horn. 
“Ow! What the hay man? What the actual hay? You’re the one who’s all like ‘stop lying’ and stuff!” 
“I’m sorry we aren’t the ponies you thought we were, but we could help you find them.” Inkwell said to Scribble Scribe. 
“What’s all this we stuff?” Luck grumbled. “Don’t know why I decided to help either of you here… I should have just gone straight to Fillydelphia…” He finished his muffin before glaring at the Pegasus across from him.
“Oh, shush. You’re obviously not a jerk so of course you wouldn’t leave either of us behind. Now…” Ink finished her tea. “What’s to keep me from calling a Unicorn guard and getting you sent to a re-education center? My brother told me that the northern wastes are lovely this time of year…” she grinned slyly.
Luck glowered. “What do you want?”
“Those books you stashed in your saddlebag. I only managed to grab one before we had to leave.” Inkwell gave them a longing stare.
“Why?” he asked, shifting himself uncomfortably
“Oh like you even care about books.” 
“Really? The pegasus is going to tell the unicorn about the value of books?” 
“What possible use for books do you have?” Inkwell reached across the table with her wing and pulled out a random book.  “This one is a children’s fable book. You are an adult. Grown Stallions do not read these. Look, it’s full of fiction- nopony believes in the Elements of Harmony.”
Luck stared at her. “They do to exist!” he exclaimed, slightly shocked at what had been said. “My father used to tell me storied about them when I was a colt!”
“Fillies’ fables are not truth. What proof do you have that six mares once used the power of their friendship to vanquish ancient villains and monsters during the old Empire? It defies logic!”
“Look, featherbutt, you may not be able to feel it because you keep your head up in the clouds all the time, but I feel it in my heart that these stories ring truth. What do YOU believe in?” Luck glared at her a long moment.
“Your father was a daft Auroch for believing in that. They didn’t exist and I should have them haul you off right now!”
Luck looked down, silent. Then he slowly glared up at the Pegusai, absolute rage burning in his eyes. “You take that back you stupid Terrip.”
Inkwell sat up at the table, reeled back and struck Slight Luck across the face with her hoof. 
“Ass!” She reached over the table, and pulled Lucks entire bag towards her as he rubbed his face. She had nearly crossed half of the table before Luck regained himself and pulled the bag back towards him.
The books spilled out over the table, some landing in a structured manner but one, by pure happenstance bumped the Scribble Scribe’s soup bowl, he tensed up as the tiniest drop of soup was sprung from the bowl and gently settled itself into a page it turned the words “only once one” a bright red. 
Meanwhile, in a completely different state of mind, Inkwell and Slight Luck had focused their energy over one book, the title neither of them knew. 
“You don’t even need this one!” Inkwell pulled at the book. 
“I can auction the useless ones away!” Slight Luck pulled back
“To the stupid rabble?” 
“Like you’re some kinda book saint?” Slight luck began pulling with his mouth. 
“No!” Scribble Scribe yelled. The both of them froze, dropping the book on the table amongst the small pile. 
“Wha-“
“No!” Scribe pulled the books in close to him, alphabetized them, and laid his hoofs over them. “I’m sorry but I will have to revoke your library privileges!“ 
The other two looked across at each other. 
“Look,” Inkwell said. “I just, don’t get many books, you know how things are.”
“There are people who need these more than you do.” Slight Luck looked across at her. 
“How do you know?” 
“I just do. That’s why I need to get out of the city.” 
“Well,” Inkwell looked down at the pile of books that Scribe was clutching. “Are you going to sell them?” 
“Not if I don’t have to.”
“Then I guess I’ll go with you.” 
“What?” 
“I’ll go with you, and then when you’re done with the books I’ll take them back from you.” She held out her hoof. “Deal?”