//------------------------------//
// The Meeting 
// Story: Syncopation 
// by Terrasora 
//------------------------------//

Fancy Pants repeated himself, making it clear that Octavia had not imagined his words.

Vinyl Scratch… is my boss.

Octavia wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She had hardly met the DJ; Miss Scratch could easily turn out to be a musical genius.

Who is currently clinging to my neck with a moronic grin plastered on her face.

Fancy Pants could not fail to notice his guest’s discomfort. “Is something wrong, Miss Philharmonica?”

“No, Fancy Pants, I’m just a bit… surprised, is all.” Octavia reached for her water, hesitating for a moment over the highball glass Fancy Pants had brought.

Vinyl looked at the other three ponies. “Should I be offended by that? I think I should be offended! I’m offended, Tavi! What do you mean it’s a ‘surprise’?”

Harpo cleared his throat slightly. If Octavia took this, a fight would break out. “Well, Vinyl, we weren’t expecting to meet our boss so quickly or that she, meaning you, would be the one to escort us to this meeting. It just caught us off guard.”

The white mare considered this for a moment. “… Alright, I guess that I’m not offended anymore. Good save, Harpo.”She flashed a grin at the composer, which Harpo acknowledged with a nod.

Fancy Pants glanced at a clock on the wall. He rose to his hooves. “I’m afraid that this meeting must be cut slightly short; there is another matter that requires my attention. You are free to stay here for as long as you wish. Indeed, I would prefer that you all spent as much time together as possible. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

The distinguished pony shook hooves with each of his employees, pausing a bit when he got to Octavia. “Actually, Miss Philharmonica could you accompany me for a moment? Just to the doorway; my old bones are not what they used to be.”

The cellist followed Fancy Pants, leaving Harpo and Vinyl alone.

That’s a rather dangerous combination, thought Octavia.

They reached the doorway. Fancy Pants spoke. “I’ve noticed that you have some… reservations towards working with Vinyl.”

Octavia sighed. “I have reservations towards working with anypony. I didn’t even work with Harpo until I was forced to. I’m sure I will get used to working with Miss Scratch just as I got used to working with Harpo.”

“But, Vinyl Scratch is not exactly the same as Harpo Parish Nadermane. In fact, there are very few ponies that can be compared to Vinyl; she does not conform to any preconception or archetype. I actually wondered if she was part draconequus for a while; there are times when she could do Discord proud.”

Octavia raised an eyebrow.

“But I digress,” continued Fancy Pants with a sheepish grin. “My point is that Vinyl is chaotic, boisterous, unique, but she is also highly talented and completely trustworthy. And I need my musicians to trust each other and to work together.” Fancy Pants turned serious for a moment. 

“Is that clear, Octavia Philharmonica?”

“I will try my best, Fancy Pants.”

“That’s all I ask.”

Fancy Pants nodded his goodbye, and trotted through the door.  The sky was slowly darkening and his carriage was already waiting for him.

He chatted briefly with the drivers before climbing into his seat, feeling a slight twinge in his legs as he did so.

That part about my ‘old bones’ was supposed to be a jest. Nevertheless, Fancy Pants was beginning to feel the effects of his age.

Don’t give out on me just yet, he thought, massaging his hind legs. There’s still so much to do.


***


Harpo and Vinyl watched Octavia and Fancy Pants leave the room. Vinyl, now without the cellist to use as a body pillow, flopped comfortably onto the corner of the coach. Her head began to bob to some inner music as she levitated her glass.

The composer considered his newest boss. She is rather eccentric, definitely not what I expected my first musical superior to be like. A laid back attitude, so I don’t expect her to be very controlling of my music. Or ‘our’ music, as Fancy Pants seems to want us working together.

“Hey, Harpo?” asked Vinyl, breaking the composer’s train of thought.

“Yes, Vinyl?”

“You’re staring. I mean, I know I look good but ya gotta treat me to dinner before anything else.” 

Vinyl smirked.

Harpo blushed a bit and waved a dismissive hoof. “I assure you, I’ll keep our relationship professional. Forgive me for staring.”

“Don’t worry about it, if I knocked out everypony who stared at me, there’d be unconscious stallions lining the streets. And a couple mares too.” The DJ went back to her drink.

A silence fell between the two. Vinyl was oblivious to it, lost in whatever song was running through her head. Harpo, on the other hoof, felt slightly uncomfortable. The white mare had kept a nearly continuous stream of words during the carriage ride and there had hardly been a moment of silence during their meeting with Fancy Pants. The quiet seemed… Unnatural after all of that noise.

“So, Vinyl, what do you think of Octavia?” Harpo nearly clapped a hoof over his mouth. Where did that question come from?

The DJ arched an eyebrow, momentarily caught off guard. Then she smirked. Harpo decided then and there to run whenever that smirk appeared. “She’s a good filly, a bit quiet, but cute 
when she actually smiles. But don’t worry Harpo, that’s all you.”

The composer’s eyebrows knit themselves together. ‘That’s all you’? Whatever does she mean by that?

There was a beat of silence.

Two beats.

Two and a half bea –

Harpo sprang to his hooves. “I haven’t even considered– That’s not how it– Octavia and I are NOT–” The composer sputtered, gasping for air. He turned towards the hallway, half-expecting a grey blur to rocket into the room.

Vinyl held up her hooves, trying to contain her laughter. “Alright, alright, sorry! So you two aren’t together, you just seemed kinda close so I assumed. I mean, you could definitely do worse.”

The stallion gave a pointed look. “She would have killed you if you had said that in front of her.”

“Who, Octy? No way, I can’t believe that.” The cellist’s cold glare ran through Vinyl’s mind. 

“Okay, I can sorta believe it. But she wouldn’t hurt me for something like that, would she?”

“Octavia Philharmonica is not a typical mare. She hates when people assume, especially in regards to… that particular subject.”
                
“What ‘subject’? Relationships?”
                
Harpo nodded.
                
“What, does she think colts are icky?” Vinyl laughed.
                
The stallion feigned a laugh but, even with his proven skills as a playwright, he was a far cry from an actor.
                
“Okay, so she does think they’re icky. But…” Vinyl’s eyes widened, “Oh Celestia, is Tavi a fillyfooler?”
                
“Vinyl! Have you ever noticed how interesting this table is?”
                
“Don’t dodge the question!”
                
“It’s a very fine piece of woodwork.”
                
“Harpo, look at me.”
                
“I must ask Fancy Pants where he bought this. I mean just look at it! It think it’s mahogany.”
                
“Harpo!”
                
The stallion grinned sheepishly. “… Mahogany?”
                
“No, not mahogany. Foolish composer, you’ve piqued my interest so now I have to know. Is Tavi, Tavi of the Ten Syllable Name and Uptight Attitude, a fillyfooler?”
                
They were interrupted by the sound of hoofsteps coming back through the hallway.
                
Harpo breathed a sigh of relief. “Sorry Vinyl, it seems that we’ve run out of time.”
                
The DJ looked disappointed, or she attempted to at least. Harpo saw the corner of her lips twitch the slightest bit and knew that behind those purple shades were the eyes of Discord himself. He would not be hearing the last of this.
                
Harpo reached for the highball glass Fancy Pants had left for him.
                
Oh, Eternal Sisters of night and day, protect me from the madness of mares.

 


***


 

                
Octavia trotted into a silent room. Harpo was pouring himself a drink, Vinyl was looking at the cellist with an unnerving smile.
                
Remember what Fancy Pants said, Octavia; ‘trust each other and work together.’
                
With an attempt at a smile, the cellist broke the silence. “So, I trust that you two had a nice conversation.”
                
Vinyl’s smile widened. “Oh yeah, it was great! Taught me a lot.”
                
Harpo drained his glass and reached for the bottle.
                
“I see, that’s… good.” Or it might be very bad, thought Octavia.
                
“Tavi, what are you still standing around for? C’mon, take a seat.” Vinyl patted the seat next to her. The grey mare took a seat on the opposite end of the couch.
                
The three musicians sat in an uncomfortable silence, made all the more uncomfortable by the DJ’s unwavering grin.
                
Vinyl was the first to break the silence. “Why don’t we play a game?”
                
Harpo was still enticed by his drink, leaving Octavia to answer. “A… game?”
                
“Yeah, just to pass a little time before we head out. Don’t worry, you’ve probably played it before. Just need a little time to prepare.”
                
Vinyl trotted into the kitchen, a definite spring in her step.
                
Octavia rounded on Harpo. “What did you two talk about?” she hissed.
                
“… Have you noticed this table?”
                
“Harpo, please don’t talk about tables, you only talk about tables when you’ve done something wrong.”
                
The composer sighed, rubbing between his eyes with a hoof. “Okay, Vinyl may have the slightest inkling of the possible idea that somehow in some unknown parallel universe that has an exact copy of you in it, it is a possibility that that copy is… well, a fillyfooler.”
                
Octavia stayed silent.
                
“… Octavia?”
                
Still no response.
                
“Dear Celestia, I’ve turned you into a statue. Admittedly, this is one of the better outcomes.” Harpo chuckled weakly, more out of fear than humor.
                
“… Harpo?”
                
“Yes, most lovely, talented, and merciful Octavia?”
                
“I’m going to kill you. Slowly and without remorse.” There was no sign of a joke in Octavia’s eyes.
                
“Now, let’s not overreact; you interrupted us at a most opportune moment! I did not specifically tell Vinyl whether you were a fillyfooler.”
                
“You just set up the equation, then? ‘Two plus two equals what?’”
                
“I swear, Octavia, we can get out of this.”
                
Vinyl trotted back into the living room, an assortment of liquors held in her aura. “Alright, the name of the game is Truth, Dare, or Drink.”
                
Harpo drew two circles in the air and placed his hoof over his heart. At that moment, he wasn’t sure whether to be more afraid of Vinyl’s grin or Octavia’s glare. It’s okay, Harpo, he thought to himself, you’ve lived a good life.
                
Vinyl kept up a running commentary as she poured an assortment of drinks into their glasses. “I used to play Truth or Dare all the time, you know, back in my younger partying days. The questions got kind of boring after a while; we just ran out of things to ask! But a drunk pony is always kinda funny, so I decided to add alcohol to Truth or Dare.
                
“It works the same way, somepony picks somepony else and asks ‘Truth or Dare?’ all of that PG fun, but now you can decide to down your drink instead of answering a question. I’ll warn you though,” she said pointing at the seemingly random mix of alcohol, “that thing packs a punch. Can’t really remember it’s name, but somepony said it was like being hit by a gold brick wrapped in a lemon. Yeah, so it messes you up. Oh, and choosing to drink doesn’t take a question out of play. We can ask the same thing as many times as we want.”
                
“I don’t really see how this is going to help us,” protested Octavia.
                
But the DJ was ready for protests. “It’s a kind of trust exercise; it brings us closer together. And we need to be really really close for this music project to work, right?”
                
Octavia thought back to the first time she had met Vinyl Scratch. What had that barista said? ‘She’s smarter than she looks.’
                
I should have taken that as a warning.
                
Vinyl grinned wickedly. “Ready to play?”
                

***


 

                
Fancy Pants sat in a restaurant. He had arrived ten minutes early, as per the rules of business etiquette. The stallion he was meant to meet had yet to make an appearance.
                
Fancy Pants sat patiently, making small talk with anypony who approached him. His menu was still folded in front of him and his complementary glass of water sat untouched. Fancy Pants believed that eating or drinking before the full party had arrived was impolite. Unless, of course, the party was late.
                
But that would not be a problem.
                
Exactly nine minutes after Fancy Pants had taken his seat, a rather dapper pony entered the restaurant. He was a grey earth pony with an immaculately combed white mane and he walked with an attitude of superiority.

Without waiting to be seated, the pony strutted through the dining room and took the seat opposite Fancy Pants. The minute hand of the clock twitched. Hoity Toity was right on time, as always.

“Fancy Pants, I’m pleased that you could make it.”

“It was no problem, even with the slightly short notice.”

Hoity Toity smiled wryly. “Yes, I wanted to speak with you as quickly as possible.”

Fancy Pants began flipping through his menu. “What would you suggest I eat, Mister Toity?”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, you were the one who suggested coming to this establishment. The serving staff is rather lovely, by the way; I’ve had the pleasure of speaking to some of them. But I digress. I was simply wondering if you had some sort of preference in this particular restaurant.”

The other stallion was visibly miffed at the change of topic. “The dandelion salad. Unless you’re an omnivore?” Hoity Toity said ‘omnivore’ with evident distaste; he, being an earth pony, was a vegetarian.

Fancy Pants smiled. “Dandelion salad sounds perfect. Will you be ordering the same?”

“No, I’ve already eaten.” The earth pony, Fancy Pants noted with glee, was positively fuming that 
they were speaking about food.

The unicorn feigned surprise. “Really? I came with a rather large appetite, expecting an extended meal. Would you mind if I ordered a dessert? I have quite the sweet tooth.”

“Do as you wish, but I must insist that we get to business!”

“Of course, pardon me.” Fancy Pants noticed a waiter approaching their table. If I time this just right. “By all means, Mr. Toity, why exactly have you called me here today?”

Hoity Toity smiled smugly; things were finally getting back on track. “I have recently been infor—”

“Good evening sirs, are you ready to order?” A mint green unicorn levitated a pad of paper and pen in front of her.

“Quite ready,” smiled Fancy Pants, “I will have the dandelion salad with raspberry vinaigrette, plenty of croutons if that isn’t too much of a problem.”

“Of course not sir,” smiled the waitress. She turned to Hoity Toity. “Anything for you, sir?”

“No, thank you.” The steam rising from Hoity Toity’s ears was nearly visible.

The waitress turned with a polite nod and trotted to the kitchen.
                
“Now, Fancy Pants, can we finally get to business?”
                
“Indeed, Mr. Toity, we can. It is a bit strange that we keep going off topic.”
                
“Yes, I wonder why that is.” The sarcasm dripped from Hoity Toity’s voice.
                
Fancy Pants grinned jovially.
                
I’ll wipe that grin off of your face, you buffoon. Hoity Toity put on a fake smile. “I’ve been told that you plan on starting a musical company, Fancy Pants.”
                
The unicorn smiled serenely. “Word gets out quickly.”
                
“Come now, sir! You and I both know that that is not a good idea. Not when you take your… competition into account.”
                
“Indeed, your business is a rather daunting challenge.” His smile did not slip in the slightest.
                
“I’ll take that as a compliment. But I worry for you Fancy Pants, I really do! Trying to break into the music industry at this point is a fool’s errand. But I wouldn’t want your efforts to go to waste, not when you’ve already signed two rather talented musicians.”
                
“Ah, word gets out very quickly indeed.”
                
“Yes, I have been doing my research. But this leads me to this meeting.” Hoity Toity leaned forward, bringing his hooves together in front of him. “As it stands, your endeavor will fail, you will lose millions of bits, your personnel will lose their jobs, and my company will remain untouched. But your company has potential, potential in the form of Octavia Philharmonica and Harpo Parish Nadermane. I would like to buy your company, Fancy Pants.
                
By doing so, we both stand to gain something. I would gain new talent and you would receive immediate compensation for your troubles. What do you think?”
                
Fancy Pants pretended to consider the offer. “I think that it sound like a very rational deal. But we would not be having this conversation if I had always taken the most rational road.”
                
“Oh, be reasonable Fancy Pants! If you will not do it for yourself then do it for your musicians! A start-up company is no place for them; you wouldn’t know what to do with them. They can do so much more with someone like me guiding them.”
                
“I don’t think you’re giving my performers the credit they deserve. They’re grown ponies, Mr. Toity; they can think for themselves.”
                
“I see. It’s just like you to believe that.” And that thought betrays your ignorance. Hoity Toity stood up. “Are you sure that you won’t reconsider?”
                
“Quite sure, Mr. Toity. Thank you for the meeting.”
                
The earth pony nodded and slowly turned towards the door.
                
“Actually, Mr. Toity, I could not help but notice something.”
                
Hoity Toity turned his head slightly, locking eyes with Fancy Pants.
                
“You only mentioned two musicians. There are three in my employ.”
                
“Oh, yes that other mare. Plastic Cut or something of that sort? I know that you took her from some gutter or other. She doesn’t concern me; in fact it seems that she’ll simply be dead weight. Surprising, really, that you’d associate with somepony like her.” And with that, Hoity Toity trotted outside, chuckling to himself when he was sure that the unicorn could no longer see him. That went perfectly.
                
The mint green waitress trotted up to Fancy Pants, dish levitated before her.
                
“One dandelion salad with raspberry vinai—” She nearly dropped the plate when she looked into the other unicorn’s eyes.
                
Fancy Pants dropped a hoofful of bits onto the table. “Please, put the meal into a bag. I’ve lost my appetite.”