By the time you two arrive at the concert hall, you're so pumped up from your drink that you feel ready to explode. Painted Prize looks over at you as he bites into his cinnamon bun, probably mentally cursing at himself for letting you get your drink. "You better be able to stay still during this, or at least not cause a scene or something."
"Hey dude, come on, gimme some credit, would ya?" You glance at him, trying to shoot him a look that says you're offended, but you're not sure if you succeed or not. You can feel the caffeine flowing through you. You feel like you could have enough energy to run a marathon twice over, or fight a bear, or even fight a horde of bears. Something like that.
"I'd give you credit if you had a good track record up until this point." Ignoring the actual look of offense that you send his way, he opens the door for you, letting you inside before he follows and lets the door shut behind him. He rifles through his saddlebags with his magic, pulling out his ticket. "You got yours, right?"
"Yeah, of course." You roll your eyes as you turn back to your own saddlebags, digging through them and pulling out the envelope with the ticket inside. "What do you take me for?"
"A sleep-deprived DJ who even on a good day wouldn't remember her head if it wasn't attached," he deadpans, facing you with a small smile on his face. You slug him in the foreleg with your hoof, and his smile grows, even as he rubs where you hit him.
You can't help but smile back. "Don't be a dick."
He takes your ticket from you, handing it and his to the ticket pony. "Come on, you know I'm right. You'd be lost without me."
You do, and you would be. That's why you needed a manager in the first place. After nearly forgetting one too many gigs and showing up late for the umpteenth time, you decided you needed someone to help you out in the remembering your schedule department. It was only natural to get your best friend to do it for you, since he practically knew about all of your gigs anyway, and came to a lot of them. It just worked out.
"Yeah yeah yeah, I'm utterly hopeless. Can we just find our seats or whatever?"
He chuckles, and leads the way, opening the doors into the massive concert hall. You can't help but be caught up in just how many ponies there are, and just how big the room is. The walls look like they're almost all marble (or something like it), and it has some grand painting on the ceiling, by somepony who you'd probably never be able to guess the name of in a hundred years.
You let out a small whistle, which is barely audible over the chatter. "Damn, this place is nice."
Painted looks back at you, smirking. "Sounds like you're the one getting hoity-toity now."
You roll your eyes. "I just said the place looked nice, jeez, I'm not screaming for a cello solo or something."
You both arrive to the very front of all the seats, quickly scanning the row before you both sit down. He digs through his saddlebags, looking for something the ticket pony handed him. "I wonder who's playing first. Octavia will probably play last-"
"Who?" You take another sip of your drink, which is just about finished since you chugged most of it right after you got it. Your friend looks over at you.
"She's one of the best cellists in Equestria, if not the best. She's the main reason these tickets were so hard to get, just because she's gonna be playing here today. She's a big deal."
"Yeah, I'm sure she'll totally blow me away." You hear your friend chuckle at you, even over the noise of hundreds of ponies talking amongst themselves in the room. You glance over at him. "Is she really that good?"
"Lemme put it to you this way, Vinyl. What she is for classical music, is similar to what you are for electronic music. You're both the best of the best, ponies from all over want to hear the things you two put out." He bites into the second cinnamon bun, munching on it as the lights dim. "Oh, here we go, it's starting." He looks excited, far more than you do, at least. You can't help but sigh a little as you slump in your seat. This would be a long concert.
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And then started what you thought would be the most boring few hours of your life, and to your surprise, you weren't really correct with assuming that. Sure, compared to your usual scene, this was nothing you could really jam out to, but it got you pumped up almost as much as the music you made. You noticed that a lot of the songs were similar to ones you listened to: they started calm, as if to lure somepony in before crashing down and getting loud. You found yourself nodding along to the beat a few times, and before you knew it, the show was almost over. Only one more performance was left, and the curtain closed as they set up behind it, the lights going bright again so everyone could see for a minute or two.
You turned towards Painted Prize. "What's the last thing?"
"Well, since she hasn't performed by herself yet, I'm positive it'll be Octavia." He stretched himself out, cracking his neck before he settled back into his seat. "I bet you'll like her, if you nodding with the beat before was any indication."
You turn and stare at him, frowning slightly. "Hey, don't ever tell anyone about that. I still have an image to uphold, you know, can't let my fans think I've gone soft of 'em."
He moved his hoof across his muzzle, smirking. "My lips are sealed." At this moment, the lights go dim again, and his gaze moves from you to the curtain. "Oh, here it comes!"
You smile at his excitement before you turn to face the stage as well, lifting your glasses up so you can see properly. The curtain parts, revealing a lone mare sitting up there, a cello next to her. The thing that sticks out the most about her at first is the pink bow-tie and white collar she's wearing. Probably because it's more bright than her dark gray mane and tail, and her light gray coat.
The second most noticeable thing about her you see when she opens her eyes. Those amethyst orbs seem to sparkle and shine in the light that's shining down on her, and after looking over the crowd, her gaze seems to sit right on you. You two lock eyes as the whole room instantly goes quiet, and you suddenly feel a bit warm, your heart thudding against your chest.
She gives a small smile down at you, a small smile that's enough to send your heart racing and your cheeks near flushing. She closes her eyes and brings her bow up to the strings of her cello. After a moment's pause, she starts to play, the bow dancing over the strings of her instrument, creating one of the most beautiful sounds you've ever heard. You can't help but become entirely enraptured by the scene before you, your lips curling into a smile that you barely noticed as you watched this mare entirely in her element.
The song goes on for an amount of time that you're unsure of, because every time she opens her eyes, she looks down at you, and time seems to stop when her gaze meets yours. Far too soon for your liking, though, the song is over, and she bows to the crowd and trots off the stage, to thunderous applause. You're still too stunned to even get up and move, staring at the spot she was sitting not even moments ago. You quickly turn to Painted Prize when the clapping dies down.
"I need to find her."
"What?" He looks at you incredulously. "Why?"
"I just need to find her. Where is she?"
He just blinks down at you before a hoof moves to his chin. "Well, she's probably backstage right now, but she usually leaves pretty quick after her performances and stuff. But again, why-"
"Thanks." You almost leap out of your seat, rushing along the front of the stage before slipping around the side of the curtain. Not the most stealthy of ways to get back there, but it was the fastest. From what your friend said, you didn't have much time anyway.
Now all you had to do was find her.