Octavia's friend was clearly upset but it seemed impolite to intrude on her affairs if she wasn't willing to talk about it. I didn't know what she needed a knife for, but decided that it probably wasn't for a violent purpose. That was good – the local neighborhood already had enough of that. Millie seemed emotional, but not unstable.
After giving her the knife, I cast my eyes around the room while I polished the bar. The fashion show was beginning. While I held no specific animosity towards Fleur de Lis, she was not a pony I would associate with by choice. My job is to keep things running smoothly, whether that required hosting, food preparation, maintenance, or security. Her shows interrupted the normal operation of the club.
Truthfully, shaking things up on occasion might not be a bad thing. I had accepted Octavia’s offer of a job in Manehattan for a change of scenery from Canterlot. That’s pretty much all I’d gotten – a different city skyline to look at. The customers seemed the same. The music style hadn’t changed much. Crime in the local neighborhood might have actually been worse.
Still, I’m an optimist. The Metronome was on the way up. The fresh coat of paint Millie had applied looked good, and I knew Octavia had her sights set on greater things.
Speaking of Millie, she returned the knife after haphazardly trimming her mane. I’m sure there had to be a good reason for a mare to do something like that, but I decided that it was none of my business.
A habit of politely keeping my nose out of things had taken me far in life. Sometimes I wished I was more confrontational, though. Maybe I would have ended up doing something more interesting than hosting a jazz club. I was good at it and somewhat content, but not entirely satisfied.
Maybe I could do something about that. My focus for a long time had been centered entirely on my work. Since moving to Manehattan it had begun to shift outwards a little. After all, I live to serve. There were a lot of ponies out there who needed help.