"What kinda spell did you put on this thing? I'm gonna croak here."
The two castaways descended Canterlot's streets, away from the castle's far-reaching light. There was a silence about the pristine homes that they passed. Either gold in their own light or grey in their own darkness, they all stayed perfectly quiet, gleaming in the generous castle's aura.
"There is no spell, I merely tightened it. It was about to fall off your neck! And I'm not about to be seen wandering Canterlot in the middle of the night with somepony who – quite frankly – looks like they just lost their bottom ten bits at the craps table."
Rarity was almost walking with a different stallion now. His colours and clothes were the same, but she had run a spare comb through his mane, pressed his suit jacket while he wore it, and pulled the bow-tie closer to his neck. She had also convinced him to stand straighter as they trotted, though that hadn't lasted a minute.
"'Middle of the night'? It's not even nine yet! Besides, I just woke up, so it's natural to look like that."
As they walked, Patchwork revealed himself as the cobbler who ran the 'Sole Patch' shop in the upper part of town. When they passed it, he pointed out the metal box fixed into the wall beside the door. It was shaped, and it indeed functioned, like a return box at a public library. He explained that it was where ponies could drop off their horseshoes, work boots, or whatever hoofwear they owned that needed repair, and he would have them "Patched up" by morning. He only met his clients when the job was finished, as he preferred trying to guess their lifestyle through their shoes before finding out what kind of a pony wore them.
"Natural? Darling, the word you're looking for is nocturnal. Speaking of which, I must say the idea of running your business overnight is mystifying to me. Do you not get lonely?"
His favourite customers, he had continued, were the high class citizens that bore their famous, upturned noses, delivering worn out dancing shoes to his shop while trying hard not to be seen. They were the type that could simply get replacements, but always had an excuse or two as to why that couldn't be done, despite looking embarrassed to be seen with them. These customers were few, he confessed, though they were not far between.
"Eh, not really. There’s always somepony with their lights on somewhere in Canterlot.”
They arrived in a poorer part of the city, though 'poorer' was a term that any district in Canterlot other than the castle's could claim. It was not dangerous or impoverished, but simply dirtier. The cobblestone slowly dissipated as they walked, gradually developing a dusty coat of the soil it sat upon. Though in truth, Rarity thought, the dirtiness could have been a product of the location or of the bright street lights that shone above it.
Rarity knew this place, of course; it housed one of her favourite cafes. But somehow, it was noisy and foreign to her. There was murmuring, laughing, cheering from the residents; all accompanied by the babbling waters of Canterlot's network of streams. She knew Manehatten could become vibrant at night, but she never expected it from Canterlot.
"So, what do you think?" Rarity asked as she tried to ignore the energy of the bustling night crawlers.
"'Bout what?"
"Why, becoming partners, of course! Think of the possibilities, Patch. We could create some stunning ensembles together with my dress sense and your shoe-making skills. I mean, granted, hoofwear has been out of style for years, but–"
"Hah, you sound like my parents," Patchwork added.
"Well, for what it's worth, I think it’s due for a tremendous comeback. Why, we could join the Ponyville-Canterlot markets and meet with clients twenty-four/seven! Won't you at least let me look into the opportunity?"
Patch grimaced and let out an awkward chuckle. "I'm just a cobbler, Rarity. And, I mean, I dunno."
Rarity grumbled as a couple of volatile ponies ran past her and threatened to steal the attention of the entire street. They were seesawing between tiny giggles and boisterous laughs as the stallion chased the mare underneath the streetlamps. The mare tripped and the stallion caught her with his magic, causing a burst of laughter that only ceased when they noticed their observers and blushed. But the event just led to more giggling, which faded away as they picked themselves up and ran out of sight over a small bridge.
“Just what is going on tonight?” Rarity inquired.
“It’s the end of the month!” Patch exclaimed, throwing his hoof in the air. “Have you never been to Canterlot on a month’s eve?”
"I suppose not, but I don't see why that's got everypony so…” Rarity paused to drape the next word with disdain. “…Frenzied.”
“Heh… You ain't seen nothin' yet.”
The farther Rarity and Patch strayed from the castle, the more bridges they had to cross. As they neared their destination it began to feel less like the streams were cutting through the dirt, and more like the cobblestone was sitting upon the waters, exposing them in several places where their calm, bubbling sound could permeate the streets. They shimmered under the street lights, and they were the only constant noise amidst the conversations flowing through the cafes and alleyways.
After Rarity was finished with the awkward silence, she broke it. "So, where is our first stop, sir?"
"Dead ahead!"
The street was splitting ahead of them, and at the end of their road was a brightly lit bar with pulsing music exuding from its door. Atop the door was an extravagant neon sign that read 'The Crossroads', which was oddly hung over a different, much more tame sign. When Rarity had first asked where they were headed, Patch told her that his friend “Aces’” local band was playing at the crossroads, which led her to believe a group of buskers were playing jazz music at a street intersection.
"That building is The Crossroads?" Rarity asked. "But that's Saucer's Café! Why–?"
"Not on the month’s eve!” Patch explained poorly.
"I see," Rarity breathed, narrowing her eyes at the open door as they approached. "And this friend of yours... What type of music does he play?"
"Oh, lots of stuff! Soft rock, hard rock, alternative rock, country rock, the works! They go all out!"
"...Lovely."
As Rarity’s fake smile disappeared, they arrived at the bar, and Patch began fiddling with the tickets in his pocket again. He dealt with the burly looking doormare sitting on a stool next to the entrance while Rarity began to feel the full force of the workings inside. The noise battered her face as much as her ears, lapping her with wave upon wave of notes that were slightly yet offensively out of tune. The smell from inside was not pungent as she expected, but instead carried a faint, smoky aroma. As she glared at the no smoking sign next to the door, the doormare approached her and reached out for the pocket in her dress, causing her to step back and glower.
"And just what do you think you're doing?" she snapped.
"Relax, Missy," Patch laughed, patting the pegasus on the back. "She's with me."
The bouncer shrugged her shoulders and sat back down, clicking a mechanical device around her leg twice and gesturing inside. Rarity's date turned to enter the bar but stopped when she didn't follow. He smiled at her and asked what the matter was; the music and the smell not appearing to faze him.
"It's just– I'm not so sure this is my cup of tea, Patch," she announced, still grimacing at the doorway. "I mean I cannot speak for your original date, but-"
"Not a party girl?"
"It's not that. I love a good party. But the parties I normally attend have friends, and punch, and cake, and... are held in a room where I can hear my own thoughts, you see."
"So you don't like dancing, then?"
"I enjoy dancing," Rarity protested, stretching her hind leg behind her. "As long as it's organized dancing, anyways. Some strange and wonderful things can happen when I dance, but I-uh... I'm overdressed, you see. And so are you."
He didn't speak or lose his confident smile, so she retracted her leg and continued.
"Perhaps I should introduce you to my friend Applejack. She loves the bar scene. Or Rainbow Dash! She's always ready to-"
"Hey," he interrupted, resting a hoof on her shoulder, "I've seen this before. I was the exact same way a couple years ago before I started coming to bars. But now I can't keep away." He breathed in the lingering smoke and sounds around them before happily letting it out. "Just give it a chance."
Reluctantly, and after she had removed the new dirt from her shoulder, she followed him inside. She quickly and unsurprisingly discovered that the scent and sound from the entrance were fitting indicators of their presence indoors. The smoke in the air was not enough to cause a fog – though it was certainly trying – and the blaring music from the band was vibrating the floor underneath their hooves. Rarity watched it as they walked to the bar, wondering what was waiting underneath it should the noises and weights of the dancing ponies on the open floor cause it to fall away from her.
After a shouting match between herself and the bartender, Rarity successfully ordered a bottle of water. Patch rolled his eyes dramatically at her before tapping a quick pattern with his front hooves on the counter, somehow ordering a bottle for himself. She watched him curiously as he opened his throat and emptied it within seconds. Once finished, he trotted to a small table near the door and pulled out a seat for her, grinning awkwardly. She quickly followed him, throwing off the awkward glances her dress was receiving from the unclothed crowds. She sat down on the high stool and sipped her water, while Patch's gaze was locked on to the dance floor. She watched it with him, though her mouth was growing in the opposite direction to his.
Discord, Rarity thought, would have been proud. There were several spotlights trained on nothing, moving around in uncommon patterns and shining different coloured beams onto the walls, floor. and ceiling; and she cringed every time they caught her. The lead earth pony on stage was belting several indiscernible words into his microphone, and the unicorns around him playing bass guitar, keyboard, and drums, all had their eyes firmly closed, scowling as they battered their instruments.
But most chaotic of all were the dancers. Their rough, puzzling movements were creating clattering, stumbling, and impossible laughter. They had a clear lack of respect for each other, yet they all seemed enthralled with the company. Dotting the crowd were several motionless gazers, zoning out to the band and ignoring the dancers that crashed into them. Rarity gave an inaudible chuckle when she realized that the movers danced like her friend: The princess with the woeful depth perception. The chuckle expanded a little more when she imagined what they would look like if the band was to go silent without them noticing.
Patch winked at Rarity and gestured to the floor, but she responded by holding up her front hooves and shaking her head. Without protest, he shrugged his shoulders, loosened his bow-tie again and jumped into the fray.
If it wasn't for his jet-black jacket, Rarity would have lost sight of Patchwork. The frenzy of shuffling ponies welcomed him immediately as if following a rule – written or otherwise – to never question a stranger. She watched them light up happily, hug him, and then push him into each other rudely. She cringed as she saw him get tossed around, but his wide smile only grew wider with every shove and every shove back. At one point during the first song, he stood on another pony's back and waved to the lead singer. Rarity saw him respond with a wink, though in truth it could have been to anypony.
The first song finished, and there was a brief quiet for the crowd to fill in with their own noise. Hooves rapped, stomped and threw their love to the band, and Rarity sipped her water. As she prepared to check her watch for the first time since the garden, she stopped for several stunned seconds when a familiar face in the crowd matched eyes with her briefly, before it panicked and dove back in where it wouldn't be seen.
"Upper Crust?"
A new rhythm started, unbeknownst to the band, unbeknownst to the crowd, and unbeknownst to Patchwork. It was Rarity's heart, suddenly beating irresponsibly fast from underneath her dress. She sat up in her stool and scanned the crowd again, but the lights were off of them, frozen on the stage. She stood out of her chair and approached, following her rising heartbeat to its disappeared source.
Just as she was about to step onto the floor however, the next song started, and she turned her focus towards it. She was unimpressed by the first, but suddenly willing to give a song a chance from its start, knowing that finding Upper Crust’s ghost in the crowd would mean getting closer to the storm. It was slow at first, with only a single guitar accompanying the singer's out-of-pitch voice. He sang two words then stopped, signalling to his guitarist to stop as well. He apologized to the crowd and cleared his throat while they cheered him despite the mistake.
"It was too fast for me," he explained.
Rarity's heart rate returned to normal, and only underneath the cheers could you hear the inaudible sound that left her pursed lips.
“Hmmm.”
The song restarted shortly after Rarity returned to her seat, and she opened her ears. This time it was a little slower – with the whole band playing – and her interest began piquing at the lack of blare in their sound. The band's leader sang a short phrase of doing before thinking, taking chances and avoiding the struggle to make decisions. He serenaded the captive audience with a listless happiness for his lack of initiative and self-awareness. It struck a tone of nostalgia with Rarity, but not of relation. When he finished the opening and screamed a 'YEAH!' into the microphone, the band and crowd went wild again. The mare in the dress grumbled and took another sip of her water.
Desperate to find something in the bar to stare at, her eyes found Patch again. He danced like he was mad, leaving no area of the floor untouched by his experienced shoes, and changing his movement and style at every opportunity he had. Rarity noticed several dances from different eras transitioning into each other seamlessly. His suit was still somehow intact despite receiving more and more friendliness from the ponies around him, especially the mares. Rarity watched closely as they intentionally bumped into him, stood in front of him a few times and attempted to start a more romantic dance. Despite the advances, Patchwork kept his unaware expression focused on the band.
When the song ended, and after Rarity had checked her watch three times, her dancer in the lights came rushing back to his date with a worried look on his face. The mares on the floor pouted and turned away. He gestured to the floor, but Rarity refused again, so he smiled questioningly at her and pointed to the exit.
"Why are we leaving?" Rarity asked as they passed the doormare again.
"Uh, I'm not gonna lie, it didn't look like your cuppa tea," Patch answered, rubbing his neck again.
"Well, I did try to warn you," she said politely as she finished her water and floated it into a recycling station.
"I'm sorry about that. I shoulda known that was too much for somepony like you, I... I understand if you want to go home."
Rarity pulled out her watch again and made a pointless glance in the direction of the train station. "Well..."
Rudely, they were interrupted when the door to The Crossroads swung open and the directionless couple from earlier spilled out of the bar. They giggled and passed Rarity and Patch without notice, before stopping and stifling their laughs in a sudden, brash kiss. Rarity took a step back and stuttered. When they broke free, they paused and touched noses and foreheads, closing their eyes and breathing out in unison. Then, as if wishing to trip and fall again, they ran back up the street.
"...It wasn't... so bad, I suppose," Rarity finished.
"Really?" Patch asked, scrunching his nose.
"Well... No, it was rather shocking. But I don't have to leave yet."
"That's great!" he cheered, pulling out the clump of paper from his pocket as Rarity fixed his tie and pressed his suit. "There's a lot more we could..." He contorted his mouth as he flipped through the tickets. "...Actually, the next stop is the last stop."
Rarity craned her head and took the tickets from him. They advertised disco, honky-tonk and jazz, respectively; and they were all for establishments that were foreign to the socialite. "But, what about all of these?" she asked.
"They're alright, but they're not..." He paused and smirked, before carrying the tickets to a nearby trashcan and throwing the rest of his night away. "...The museum."
Rarity's eyelids rose, allowing more light in from the street lamps around her. "The museum? You mean the Museum of Contemporary Historic Art?"
Patchwork nodded.
"Oh, I love the MOCHA! I was just there last week! But, hold on a minute..."She frowned and raised a hoof to her chin before quickly retrieving her watch and scanning it. "...Would it not be closed at this hour?"
"C'mon," Patch said, before he rediscovered his eager smile and pulled her front leg away from The Crossroads.
"Okay, okay!” Rarity laughed. “Slow down!"
The two castaways took off again in the same direction as the couple that passed them moments before. The doormare smiled at them as they ran, clicking the device in her hoof four times.