//------------------------------// // Chapter Two: Suits and Stallions // Story: Recipes for Love and Disaster // by Neon Noble //------------------------------// Chapter Two As was typical for the weekends, Golden Hope’s was packed with ponies and filled with the delectable scents of all varieties of foods. Waiters and waitresses scurried by, either expertly balancing trays of freshly-prepared food or lifting the trays in the air with magic. Each was cleanly dressed to show that the restaurant took itself seriously. Just as well, the wardrobe doubled as an expert device for pulling in higher class denizens of Manehattan. The clean white, black, and olive color scheme of the restaurant interior also served this purpose excellently, providing a “modern” design for the patrons to indulge themselves in. Expensive-looking paintings clung to the walls and finely-crafted lamps and chandeliers bathed the dining hall in light. The sitting cushions were made of sturdy, yet fine, material, colored forest green and trimmed in gold around the seams, emblazoned with the restaurant logo upon it. Judging by the large party of guests that Fancy Pants had brought with him, one could hazard a guess and say that the presentation worked well enough to snag ponies as far away as even Canterlot. Butter Cream weaved past the guests and waitresses that blocked his path to Golden Hope, who had made herself quite visible in the front area of the dining hall where she and Fancy Pants’ party were seated. Cinder’s magic glow began to fade as the little pony got further into the hall, where she could not see him, and soon he winced as his weight returned to his bruised shoulder. Fancy Pants and his cohorts were engaged in conversation with Miss Hope when Butter Cream finally arrived at their group of tables. He suddenly felt very out of place; while the ponies around him were dressed in expensive-looking suits and dresses, he wore nothing of the sort. Butter Cream briefly began to wonder if he’d made the wrong decision to confront Miss Hope now, of all times, instead of sometime later, preferably when he wasn’t surrounded by haughty laughter and condescending tones. The faint feeling of being stared at managed to snap Butter Cream out of his thoughts, and he suddenly realized that the chatter before him had died down now that Golden Hope was nearly glaring at him. “Butter Cream, darling,” the boss began, fighting her voice to hide her anger, “I trust you know the rules for entering this section of the dining hall?” While he did understand that the dining hall was divided into two sections and that the one he was currently standing in required some type of formal dress, Butter Cream had ultimately ignored this rule for his own sake. “I n-needed to talk to you.” Butter Cream replied, his eyes falling to the floor out of habit. “I say, is that the little fellow from before?” Butter Cream’s heart skipped a beat and he looked up to once again meet the captivating gaze of Canterlot’s premiere pony. “Yes, it is.” Once again, Golden Hope had taken to speaking through her teeth. She took a deep breath and added, “I apologise for the disturbance.” “Not at all!” Fancy Pants responded, looking over at her with a sophisticated grin upon his face. “He needed to speak with you, of course. Surely you must make time to answer the inquiries of your esteemed employees?” Butter Cream was faintly aware of a warm feeling in his face, and had been staring at Fancy Pants for but a moment before Golden Hope regained his attention by clearing her throat. “Er, yes, of course I do. Come around next to me, Butter Cream.” Golden Hope said, recollected. The manner in which she called Butter Cream to her side, however, seemed to the baker to be quite cold. He quickly trotted around the tables and stopped next to his boss, who was now looking down at him as she had the delivery pony earlier that morning, only this time she seemed quite more expectant that he would not be wasting her time. Butter Cream felt a pit form in his stomach at the sight of Golden Hope, and he was almost unable to squeak out his concern. “Er, when you b-bumped into me this morning--” Butter Cream was cut off suddenly by Golden Hope’s loud “Hmph!” “As if I would do such a thing!” She stared incredulously down at him. Butter Cream cast a quick glance around to see that the rest of the nearby ponies didn’t quite share the same side of the story as him, either. Taking a deep breath, Butter Cream continued, “But you did! I didn’t mean to cause a scene before--and I don’t mean to now, either!-- but I hadn’t, er, realized that I’d injured my shoulder at the time. So now I--” Once again, Golden Hope interrupted Butter Cream’s request, this time leaning down so she could meet him eye-to-eye. “Listen carefully, darling.” The whispered word dripped with fury. “I cannot personally deal with every injury that takes place in my restaurant because somepony wasn’t careful about where he was standing. I don’t know what you are trying to get from me, but I’m not about to offer anything. Do you understand?” Butter Cream hadn’t quite been prepared for the bite of Golden Hope’s furiously whispered response, but he nevertheless puffed up his chest and, in spite of himself, confidently said, “All I want is an apology!” Golden Hope blinked, casting a slightly confused glance about the group. She sat back up on her cushion, an apologetic smile suddenly crossing her lips, though her eyes closed condescendingly. “Oh, well, if that’s all you wanted, I’m terribly sorry about your shoulder!” In truth, Butter Cream had meant to ask for the rest of the day off to heal, but the presence of the ponies around him, who now smiled in response to Golden Hope, had significantly weakened his resolve. It was all he could do to prevent himself from trembling in the presence of the wealthy customers. He would have to bear with his shoulder for now. “Now, if that is all, I would like to get back to my conversation with these fine ponies.” Golden Hope stated. Her terse tone caused Butter Cream to respond with a quick nod before he turned and scurried away from her table. He could hear one of the ponies murmur, “How rude,” as he made his exit. Unfortunately, Butter Cream, trying to clear his mind with deep breaths, had gone the wrong direction. Rather than the relatively empty anteroom, or even the back rooms where the employees gathered, Butter Cream had accidentally escaped into the second part of the dining hall. This area was much less populated than the main area, where the well-clothed ponies sat and conversed, and considerably less expensive in terms of the paintings hung upon the walls. Not that the room looked any different than the other room; it still maintained the expensive, borderline-gaudy feel of the rest of the restaurant. Unlike the main room, however, this area was for, in Golden Hope’s words, the “other” ponies. The ponies that sat and ate around Butter Cream were not dressed like the rich ponies, if they even wore clothes. Here were the lower-middle class ponies, who were made to be paraded through the main dining hall so that they could look at the wealthy upper crust before they reached their table. Ponies with children, especially, were made to sit here so as to keep the customers of high esteem comfortable and content. Frankly, the setup made Butter Cream a little bit sick, but Golden Hope’s wasn’t the only restaurant that worked this way. Manehattan was famous for its wealthy, sophisticated upper class, and the ponies in charge, who happened to be the wealthy upper class citizens, worked quite hard to keep appearances that way. Not that it wasn’t a despicable practice. But the ponies here were much more comforting to be around. Scattered about the room were small groups of average ponies, spending their time at the restaurant to eat and converse with friends, rather than gain publicity. Sometimes Butter Cream wondered if the ponies in the main area even cared what they were eating, but he knew for sure that the ponies shuffled to the back were sincere when they gave their compliments to the crew. That sort of response made working at Golden Hope’s a bearable experience, and the thought of these ponies’ true gratitude was enough to help him calm down again. A pony dressed in a black vest passed by, heading into the main dining room. Perhaps he was bound to attempt to get in with the upper crust. Butter Cream didn’t quite care for them at the moment. His shoulder throbbing faintly, Butter Cream decided he’d make for the employee passage that led out of this area so he could enjoy what remained of his break, even if it meant outlasting the dull pain. Shuffling and limping along, the stallion padded across the soft carpet, the pain in his shoulder occasionally eliciting a squeak, his eyes focused on the floor not too distant from his body. It was likely that the ensuing collision was partially Butter Cream’s fault. “I’m sorry!” There had been little provocation before Butter Cream let out the apology as he tried to push himself off of the carpet. “No, no, crap... no, I should be sorry.” The voice came from above the small baker, and Butter Cream soon found that he was being gingerly hoisted into the air by a unicorn. When his hooves found solid purchase on the floor, he  turned to the side to face a set of skinny, light coffee-colored legs. It took a few moments before it registered in the dazed pony’s brain that very clearly there must be something attached to those legs, which presumably was what was now currently apologizing over and over again from above. Butter Cream shook the hair out of his eyes and looked up as far as he comfortably could to find a unicorn peering back down at him, the corners of his mouth pointing down and his eyebrows raised in dismay. A pair of glasses reflected his small form back down at him. “Sorry, sorry...” the unicorn repeated behind the glasses. “You aren’t hurt, are you?” “W-well, I don’t think I-- Ouch!” Butter Cream hadn’t finished the sentence because he had hopped back before the glasses, slipping off of the pony’s nose, could drop sharply on his face. The quick step back flared up his previously-bruised shoulder, and Butter Cream cringed. “Sorry! I’ve got them!” The glasses floated just above the carpet, wrapped in a vanilla glow. Butter Cream followed them as they floated back up to the unicorn’s face, which was now covered up by golden hair. He shook it out of the way before sliding the glasses back upon his nose and adjusting them firmly so that they would not fall again for at least another minute or two. With the glare on the glasses now gone, Butter Cream spied a pair of dark sapphire eyes, and his heart fluttered. Normally, any pony was considered tall when viewed through Butter Cream’s eyes, but this unicorn was decidedly more so. His slim body and skinny legs seemed almost as if they had been stretched in order to provide the extra height. This would have intimidated the baker had he not been ignoring the unicorn’s stature and apologetic smile to gaze into his eyes instead. “Aw, geez, did I do that?” The unicorn’s voice was smooth and gentle as he kneeled down, his eyes fixed upon something to Butter Cream’s side. “I’m really, really sorry.” Butter Cream followed his glance after a moment and, realized that he’d been looking at his shoulder, replied, “No, no, I did that earlier today when I got on my break...” His voice trailed off as his attention was pulled by something vaguely familiar. Butter Cream sniffed the air once, then twice, before confirming his suspicions. Something was giving off the faint scent of freshly-ground coffee beans, and it was coming from directly in front of him. “... Er, um, yes, that would be me that you’re smelling.” The unicorn stated this rather blandly, and Butter Cream almost frowned at the sudden lack of suspense. “...S-sorry.” Butter Cream’s face flushed pink and he looked away out of embarrassment. “B-but you didn’t cause this injury, really.” A soft sigh escaped the unicorn’s lips. “That’s a relief.” He paused. “Well, partially a relief. Are you sure you shouldn’t be walking around with your shoulder like that?” “I probably shouldn’t...” groaned Butter Cream, leaning back and sitting on the ground. “Why? Does it look bad?” The unicorn, who had been standing back up, flinched when he saw the little pony sit down. “I, er, think you had better move out of the way.” There was a hesitant pause, again, before he hurriedly added, “Why don’t you sit here for the time being? My friend’s gone, but it would be better if you weren’t, er, tripped over.” Butter Cream had opened his mouth to declare his displeasure at his height being so rudely mentioned when he realized that he was, in fact, sitting in the middle of the walkway between the rows of tables. In place of his displeasure, he looked over at the table next to the unicorn to find that two plates sat on opposite sides of it, covered in partially-eaten food. Butter Cream recognized both dishes: one was vegetable soup, half finished with the spoon set to the side, while the other was grilled vegetable kebabs, skewered with thin, plastic rods. It was a small leap in judgment to realized that the kebabs had to be the unicorn’s order, as the spoon that sat aside the soup bowl had a loosened strap around the end. Seeing as he’d been offered a seat, the small stallion nervously sat upon the cushion nearest to the soup. It was still slightly warm, but it relieved him somewhat to sit upon the soft pillow instead of having to stand and strain his shoulder. Butter Cream felt vaguely proud of himself when he saw the unicorn take his seat opposite him without any objections. The unicorn looked, curiously enough, around the room, almost worriedly, before his eyes returned to Butter Cream, and then his shoulder. “It’s, uh, it’s a little red right now.” He could’ve sworn that the unicorn had been referring to his face and almost panicked, but evidently the unicorn had noticed Butter Cream’s jumpiness and added that he was speaking of the bruised shoulder. At that, Butter Cream’s face once more became tinged with pink. “I-is it really?” “It looks bad. You’re sure I didn’t cause it?” Butter Cream nodded, looking around the dining hall for a moment, spotting only a few other occupied tables. “Like I said, it happened when I got off for my break. It’s just a little bruised, that’s all.” “...If you say so.” The unicorn had also taken to looking around the room before resting his gaze at the table before him. The silence grew between the two until it had nearly become tangible, at which point Butter Cream stammered, “S-so, uh, why is it that you smell so much like coffee beans?” This caused the unicorn to stare blankly at Butter Cream, his eyes wide behind his glasses, before his lips spread wide and he began to laugh. Butter Cream cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. “Uh, I’m sorry...?” “I didn’t mean to laugh, I just-- Oh! Have you not seen my--” The unicorn, still smiling and chuckling, stood and turned to the side so that Butter Cream could see his flank. Upon it appeared at first to be just a grouping of dark brown spots. In fact, Butter Cream was more interested in the unicorn’s long, braided tail, than what was apparently his cutie mark. Noticing that Butter Cream didn’t understand, the unicorn’s smile faded and he, almost disdainfully, said, “I make coffee. My cutie mark is a pile of coffee beans.” “Oh!” Butter Cream’s face flushed red again and this time he tried to cover it up with a hoof. “I-I, uh... oh, shoot...” He heard a sigh escape from the pony across from him as he sat down once more. “Don’t worry about it.” Once more, the silence spread awkwardly between the two ponies. Butter Cream resisted the urge to reach over and fiddle with the spoon nearby, instead deciding that the floral pattern on the carpet was very captivating. “... You’re absolutely sure I didn’t hurt you?” Butter Cream blinked and looked back at the unicorn, catching his gaze before his blue eyes snapped back to the table, his head hanging slightly. The baker seemed very confused that the unicorn was still asking him this question. “Well it does hurt just a little bit to fall over, but I don’t have a very long way to fall, so...” Butter Cream half-forced a chuckle, and the brown unicorn nervously forced one of his own in response. The fake laughter did not hang in the air for very long. It was now becoming very obvious to Butter Cream that perhaps something was amiss with the unicorn. He had just opened his mouth to speak when another voice crossed over his, eliciting the unicorn across from him to nearly jump to his hooves. “Well, now, who is this? Somepony I should know?” Butter Cream turned around to find that the source of the voice had come from just behind him, slightly lower in pitch than his and tinged with a familiar sense of self-importance not unlike that of the ponies in the main dining hall, was a pony bigger than he was, coated white with a wavy golden brown mane and tail. He wore a black vest and cuffs above his hooves, and had he perhaps been wearing a full jacket as opposed to just a vest, Butter Cream might have mistaken the earth pony for one of his co-workers. His dark purple eyes were set on Butter Cream, who nervously began to give a response when the unicorn spoke up. “Oh, no, I was just offering him a place to rest after I accidentally bumped into him! He’s injured his shoulder. See?” The apologetic smile had returned to the unicorn’s face, but this time it was not for Butter Cream. The white pony looked at the unicorn, an eyebrow raised, before looking back at Butter Cream, and then coming to rest his eyes once more on the unicorn. Then, his expression relaxed and he tilted his head back to laugh carefully, giving Butter Cream a chilly reminder of Golden Hope. “And here I had assumed that you’d suddenly taken an interest in mares!” Once more, Butter Cream was greeted with an image of Golden Hope flashing across his mind and it was all he could do to prevent the grimace from remaining on his face for more than a second. “How careless of you, Caramel! Did you at least apologize to the poor little morsel?” “Profusely, of course.” Caramel looked down at his hooves shamefully, his glasses once again trying to escape the tyranny of his face. Butter Cream suddenly felt a pang of sympathy for the unicorn. The pony behind him was practically Golden Hope in a stallion’s body, so Butter Cream could only reason that this was his boss giving Caramel a hard time. “Well, then, honey, I surely hope you won’t do it again.” Butter Cream blinked and had to stop himself from visibly looking between the two ponies. His heart fluttered once more. Was this really what was going on around him right now? Surely he was not in the middle of what was about to become a lover’s quarrel? Caramel turned his apologetic gaze once more to Butter Cream after having secured his glasses once again. “Again, I’m really sorry.” “O-oh, no, i-it’s quite fine, mister, um... Caramel.” Butter Cream replied, nervously trying to play it off. Judging by the other earth pony’s expression, he hadn’t been successful. “It’s actually Mocha Caramel,” corrected the unicorn. “Only I have the privilege of calling him ‘Caramel.’ Don’t I, sweetie?” The earth pony smiled innocently, and something about it made Butter Cream slightly angry. “Of course, Cheesecake. Why would it be any other way?” Mocha Caramel replied. His words sounded strained. Butter Cream could practically taste the tension in the air, so he quickly stood from the cushion, wincing as his shoulder came under pressure once again, and said, “Well, my, my! My, uh, break is almost up-- I really had better get going!” He had started to quickly trot away when Cheesecake said, “Oh, but dear, you haven’t even shared your name!” Butter Cream stopped and turned to face Cheesecake, smiling sheepishly. “Oh, I’m sorry! My name is Butter Cream!” Mocha Caramel, now between Butter Cream and Cheesecake, said, “Well, I hope you’ll be alright, Butter Cream. Take care of that shoulder, okay?” “I will. Thank you for offering to keep me company! Now, I really must get going!” Butter Cream once more turned and scurried down the rows of tables toward a door labeled “Employees Only.” He only looked back at the couple for a split second once he reached the door, faintly catching the sour phrase, “Butter Cream, eh? Sounds delicious...” before he pushed past the door and back into the kitchen area. Butter Cream felt as though he had just jumped across the tracks at Manehattan Central Station. * * * It was slightly difficult returning to work with his bruised shoulder, and after having been told about it, Golden Harvest had nearly stormed out the kitchen when Butter Cream protested that she didn’t. Harvest had seethed for a while, but after a few deep breaths she agreed not to make trouble with her mother so long as she could bring it up after work hours. The last thing Butter Cream wanted was to cause even more trouble with Golden Hope than he already had; he had his suspicions that after Fancy Pants left the restaurant, the very first place Golden Hope would go was the kitchen so that she could make an example of him in front of the rest of the bakers. It only seemed fitting that, of the sounds coming from the other kitchen, the chopping sounds were the ones Butter Cream heard the loudest. To keep himself from succumbing to anxiety, Butter Cream focused more intently on his duties. He was mixing the batter for a rich and fluffy chocolate cake, which was soon destined for the oven pending the completion of what he was certain was the vanilla cake that he needed to ice. All around him, the rest of the bakers chattered, mixing batter or kneading dough. Butter Cream let his mind wander as he poured the batter into a cake pan, thinking back on that unicorn, Mocha Caramel, and his weird behavior. It had been bothering him since he had left on that rather awkward note between Mocha Caramel and his apparent boyfriend, the pony named Cheesecake. He had to be honest with himself: it really seemed like something was about to fall apart between the two. Setting aside the first pan and now pouring into a second, the baker gazed out of the window where he could see that sunlight had partially melted away the snow on Manehattan’s streets. Ponies were now out and enjoying their Saturday, small puffs of white appearing around their noses and mouths as they trotted down the paved streets. Some carried bags with store logos emblazoned loudly on them; others simply walked side-by-side, enjoying the other’s company. Butter Cream sighed, looking back down to scrape the last of the batter into the pan with a spatula. He no longer felt like doing any more baking today. Suddenly, the kitchen doors opened, and a waitress entered, levitating a tray with a slice of cake, decorated in white frosting that had a red rose tastefully crafted on top. Upon her face was a very uneasy, yet relieved look, and she announced to the bakers, “You know what? I think we might need to just save this for the next one, alright? I do not want to serve table 47 right now.” Butter Cream rolled his eyes and resumed his work, nudging the filled cake pans along the countertop toward the ovens while the other ponies around him became immediately interested in whatever it was that the waitress was so worked up about. “What happened?” asked Rosemary. The waitress took in a very audible breath and held it dramatically for a few moments before saying, “I almost walked out into the middle of a messy break-up.” There were several gasps in the kitchen, one of which belonged to a particular vanilla stallion. He was not sure why, but Butter Cream immediately snapped his attention to the steamy windows overlooking the street. He saw a familiar braided tail disappear around a corner.