Quinlinn rushed through the building's revolving door, managing to smack an exhausted Braeburn several times in the face with it before the yellow pony caught it and rushed through himself. The pegasus looked around frantically, searching for their ride.
"Braeburn!" he panicked. "The limo! It's not here! Where is it!?"
"No, no, no! It's 7:38! It should be here, where is it!?"
"Screw it! Time for backhugs!"
Quinlinn got behind Braeburn and jumped on his back, wrapping his forelegs around the earth pony's barrel.
"QuinlinnwaitWHAT'REYA'LLDOING!!?!?" Braeburn screamed as Quin took off, a surge of adrenaline fueling his new found strength.
They flew high over the carriages below, as the seemingly now small ponies below gazed upon the well-dressed corporate bosses gliding overhead.
"Stop screaming, Braeburn! I'm flying!" He glided around street corners, flapping his wings occasionally to maintain elevation, taking them along a well-rehearsed path which he took once a week to get to his favorite restaurant. Usually he was taken there by limo, but he made sure to remember the path just in case he ever had to go there on his own.
In a short ten minutes they finally landed in front of the restaurant. Quinlinn was careful to place the terrified earth pony on his hooves, even though he fell over immediately. The crowd traveling along the sidewalk parted around them, some ponies stopping to stare, some ignoring them, and some giving them death glares.
"Woah, twenty minutes to spare." He looked back at Braeburn. "Dude, get up. You're getting your super expensive suit dirty with poor pony hoofprints." He pulled his partner to his hooves and dusted him off. "Alright, let's go in. Being early will make us look good."
They trotted into the restaurant, with an air of class that all the ponies in the dining room could smell. It was a good smell, assuming you were rich as well. If you were one of the middle class ponies, you might gag at just a whif of it.
This was a very high-class Thai restaurant. The sound of the piano and ponies' conversation provided a soothing background; a detailed mural decorated the far wall; fancy chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, providing light for the tables in the center of the room, smaller ones hung above each of the booths, all dimmed slightly to enhance the elegant atmosphere and provide a bit of a romantic ambiance for those who wished it. And, who could forget, the intense aroma of spices used in the mouth-watering dishes.
They made their way to the table, completely bypassing the maître d', only to find their guests already seated there. "Brownnosers," Quin muttered to Braeburn as they approached the table.
"Hey, you were the one who said we should be here early!"
"Be quiet, Brae."
The two Saddle Arabians sitting there certainly didn't look like Equestrians. They were bigger, around Princess Luna's size, one was brown with a blonde mane, and the other was pink with a blonde mane. They were dressed rather fancily, but it wasn't any contest against Braeburn and Quin.
"Hello!" Braeburn called to them as they grew close. "You must be..."
They gave their names, but Quinlinn could not understand what they were saying through their accents.
"Good ta meet ya both! Ah'm Braeburn Apple, and this here is my buisiness partner, Quinlinn."
"Hi," Quinlinn greeted, waving a hoof.
"Very good to meet you, Mister Apple, Mister Linn," the pink mare said.
"Uh, no, it's Quinlinn."
"Oh, my apologies, Mister Quinlinn," she smiled.
"No 'mister'. Quinlinn's my first name."
"Okay, might I ask your surname?"
"Ugh, I don't have one!"
"No family name?"
"Jeez..." Quin looked around for something to use. His eyes landed on Braeburn's head. "It's Cowpony Hat."
"Quinlinn... Cowpony Hat?"
"That's Mister Cowpony Hat to you," he shot back.
"OKAY!" Braeburn spoke up, pulling Quinlinn into his seat. "Control yourself," he whispered harshly in Quin's ear, reminding Quin of his mother.
"Thank you both for coming," the pink mare said. She seemed to have less of a thick accent than the brown stallion, making it much easier on Quin. Fortunately, Braeburn had a knack for understanding different accents, after dealing with clients from all over as an apple farmer. He was able to understand both of them.
Braeburn and Quinlinn picked up their menus, Quin only looking to avoid having to converse awkwardly with them, he already knew what he wanted. Braeburn took up a conversation with the two associates for a few minutes until the waitress arrived.
"Ladies first," Braeburn offered.
"Thank you. I will take the Pineapple Fried Rice please," the pink mare said.
"Pad Thai," Quin said.
"Ah'll have some Miso Soup, please," Braeburn requested.
Of course Quin couldn't understand what the other stallion said, but the waitress seemed to understand him enough. They all agreed on a nice wine to go with the dinner, and the waitress left.
Braeburn began talking with them about business stuff. Quinlinn would freely admit that he wasn't exactly the financial brain of the operation. Hell, he bought a longsword from a pony on the side of the street for 500 bits just the other day. He was much more content to just sit back and daydream while Brae did all the math and stuff. So that's how it went while they waited for their dinner. Braeburn talked about contracts and bits and the like, while Quinlinn daydreamed about cold beer, hot lights, and his sweet romantic teenage nights. Boy did he miss those days.
But the haze of his daydreaming was shattered when he heard an unpleasant suggestion by the pink mare.
"In exchange, we just want to take over your Saddle Arabian operations." Quinlinn instantly snapped out of his dream, and glared at the mare, who didn't seem to notice. "You'll still get a cut of the profits, but we'll buy out fifty-one percent of the territory there."
"WOAH!" Quin piped up. "What're you talking about!?"
The brown stallion began to talk, but Quin raised a hoof to stop him. "No! I don't understand you're fancy exotic voice! I need her to say it!"
"We want to help you by taking over your business in Saddle Arabia."
"And how would that benefit us, exactly?"
"You're a small-time company trying to branch out across an ocean! There's no way you could manage that from one office building, especially with so little a workforce!"
"Quin, drop it," Braeburn said.
"Maybe we just won't branch out! Maybe Saddle Arabians don't deserve Mexicoltan Crunch Nuggets!"
"What are you trying to say?"
"Quin, knock it off!" The fight was getting heated, but they hadn't gotten loud enough to draw stares yet.
"Don't you dare drag the race card into this, you know damn well that's not what this is about!"
"Then what is it about?"
"It's about you thinking you know what's good for us! You don't know the first thing about our product!"
"You're product is simple! A five-year-old could put it together!"
"Alright, then tell me, what's the first ingredient on the label, and therefore the most important?"
"Nutella!" she said.
"NO! It's LOVE!" He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a candy bar. The wrapper was red, white, and green, and was adorned with the name "Mexicoltan Crunch Nuggets". Quinlinn slammed it down on the table and pointed to the ingredient list on the bottom. "See? It says 'Love'! We put LOVE in our product, every single bite brings you a pleasure that no pony could ever put into words. It's an ingredient that, yeah, is a bit cliche, but it's true all the same! I spend six hours a day in the factory, making sure every one of our workers is at their happiest, so they can transfer that happiness into everything they make!"
"Love and happiness," the mare said, seemingly calm now. "Well, if that's all it takes-"
"NO!" a mare yelled across the room. The four business ponies turned in time to see a white mare with a fancy purple mane go off on her date. Even the waiter, who was just about to put their drinks down, stopped and stared. "That kind of proposition on the first date!? You dirty, good for nothing... UGH!" She stormed away from the table toward the exit. Quinlinn took the opportunity of the distraction to slip something in two of the drinks very hastily.
With the disturbance gone, the chatter in the restaurant slowly picked up again and the waiter served the drinks to the four of them. With the stress of the conversation that just went down, and Quinlinn shaking like a leaf in a combination of anger and anxiety, everyone took a sip of their drink. A few moments of silence passed between them, before the pink mare spoke up.
"Wazzuvith thizdrink?" she slurred. She began swaying back and forth.
Damn, that stuff works fast, Quin thought.
The stallion looked at her and said something, still incomprehensible, but he sounded normal at that.
"Wait, what? Why aren't you sleepy?" Quin asked, concerned.
He said something in reply, with a confused face.
"Uh... drink more wine."
"No!" the stallion managed to say.
Quinlinn reached over and picked up his glass, pushing it in his face. "Drink!"
"No! No drink!"
"Drink it and sleep!"
"No!"
"Kwinilinn?" Braeburn said.
"Not right now, Brae!"
"Naw Kwinilinn, whazgoinon? Ah feelz funnles..."
Quin looked at Braeburn. "Oh, crap."
Braeburn was swaying back and forth in a drunken manner, drool running down his face. He almost fell out of his seat, until Quin caught him. The brown stallion grabbed his partner and tried shaking her out of her daze, speaking to her in their native tongue.
"C'mon, Brae! Time to get out of here!" He got the drugged earth pony to his hooves and slowly made his way to the door, the Saddle Arabian stallion yelling something at them as they left.
"Sorry. Excuse me. Sorry, my friend is a bit smashed. Ooh, that looks tasty, can I have a bite?" They finally made it to the door and moved down the sidewalk. Quin hailed a taxi and they departed, the sound of sirens wailing somewhere a few blocks away as they went.