Stroll

by re- Yamsmos

Discontinuation

It most certainly wasn't the smell that kept Octavia crawling back to these kinds of places late at night, with her wander lusting mind already burning and her heavy eyes already stinging from a long long day of either self-loathing, self-indulging, or being by herself. All three were things she did a lot more than any healthy pony should possibly do in all their lives; she wasn't really good company, if anypony were to be strictly honest with themselves, and the fact that she had had an apartment all to herself back in Canterlot and way too much off-time better spent actually practicing tended to bite her on the arse pretty much a lot.

She'd manage, though. Very easily, in fact. She was capable, and she was determined. She always had a tub of cookie dough ice cream and a spoon the size of her head at her beck and call for whenever both were needed. They'd be done and worked over within, daresay, an hour or so, but they kept the mind absolutely, mind-numbingly, dreadfully painfully frozen and off the day she'd had for a time. She always stocked her bookshelf with loads of reading material she'd peruse whenever she had both the gut and the head to properly step outside her front door, trot down the street, hug a right turn, and step into the local bookstore. The cashier—who doubled as the only employee of the admittedly extravagant little cornerstore—was one of the cheeriest ponies Octavia had known in the city, and as such was a face she'd come to know pleasantly well. Octavia had picked up a lot of seemingly odd books while browsing the store's shelves, ones she'd come to absolutely adore and endlessly thank her new friend for presenting her with to the point that she'd be directed to another section previously unseen. Thus, the cycle continued, and it was a warm, friendly one she found herself missing these days.

Other times? Well, she'd just head to a bar. On days where nursing a sole bottle of horribly expensive wine all to herself seemed more lonely than her even mentioning it right at this moment, Octavia would begrudgingly rise from her couch, head outside, stare at the lines of the sidewalk in front of her, disinterestedly hum the entirety of Neightoven's 5th, and crane her neck to the right for her eyes to focus through the darkness of Luna's otherwise beautifully shaded night. From within the orange-tinted, barrel-lined, stool-filled, table-torrented room, groups of happy, giddy, very much drunk ponies frolicked about like foals—which they most certainly were reduced to in their state—and waved at whoever passed by the usually slightly ajar, windowed door, which just so happened to usually be her.

So, just as she had done not half a half hour ago, she'd trot in, sit in front of the counter, and order a bottle of expensive wine she could instead nurse with an audience gazing at her with half-lidded eyes and scrunched up, sniffling noses befitting their loopy, outright bladdered states of mind. Keeping to herself, surprisingly, never roused up attention, and so she'd practically be playing for nopony like every concert she'd ever attended, heard of, and slogged through. If she just kept drinking, she'd probably be better off.

This rang the same for her right now. Thinking and monologuing and keeping her mind busy was just a tactic she'd learned, practiced, and mastered over the years as a way to keep from thinking about something that was bothering her. As of this moment, her eyes like glazed donuts in the small similarity that they were glazed, her heart still beating out of her chest, her hoof teetering and tapping and tapping and tap-tapping against her glass, images of a shimmering kitchen knife, the slow, thunderous approach of hooves, and terrifyingly furrowed brows flickered across her vision and her brain like a three-piece slideshow on repeat for all of eternity if she didn't take her glass at this moment and drink it down like some kind of bloodthirsty animal still drugged and amped up after a–

Octavia leaned forward in her seat, about knocked over her glass, fumbled for it like some kind of addict, and tilted her head back as she drank away in some kind of a calling to a hamster in a brightly-colored metal cage. Her right ear buzzing at her incessantly and the conversations of strangers not helping it in the slightest, she gently placed her glass back onto the countertop, recoiled and screwed up her face at the liquid her hoof had contacted, groaned, shook the appendage, pouted out her lower lip, and returned to a normal sitting position on a type of furniture she'd always sort of disliked using.

"Y'know, they've got water if you're just gonna chug like that."

Octavia's turning of her head was reminiscent of a hawk.

Despite her obvious, best intentions, she peeled her ears back, cocked an eyebrow, and replied, "Isn't an officer on duty not supposed to be under the influence?"

"I can hold my beer," Hail shot back almost instantly, like she'd anticipated the salty retort somehow.

Octavia's eyes glanced to their left, and then back to Hail. "Well, it's a shame we're not drinking beer then."

The look of sudden dread and panic Octavia had been expecting remained in her thoughts as the officer instead brandished a wide grin, practically leapt forward, and snatched the bottle of wine from Octavia's wont grasp. "Whaaaaat?! No way! What're we drinking?" She slid the bottle around until she could make out the straight blue label, narrowed her eyes, and inquired, "Moonwater? The hell kinda fancy shit did you buy?"

The truth was on her tongue, but faces were for friends. "Anything that wasn't Peligro, I reckon." Raising a hoof, Octavia began asking, "Do you even know what that means?" before her companion caught her off at "do".

"Hey, Peligro kicks ass, if you didn't know."

Octavia leaned back a ways in her stool to mind the stallion freshly passed out on the floor next to Hail. "You did give him your bottle–"

"And I gave you my bits. You didn't hafta buy some wine to get into my heart, y'know," Hail claimed with her teeth pulling at her bottom lip and a hoof pressed against her uniform covered heart.

"Oh Gods, please," Octavia spat back immediately, shaking her head and staring straight—straight—ahead. The stallion, his magic rubbing a towel around a recently used flagon, continued what he was doing, albeit slightly shakily from the purple gaze focused on the bottles lying in a row directly behind him.

"Y'know, you handled yourself pretty well back there for almost getting hurt." Octavia tapped her wine glass, knowing Hail wasn't finished with whatever she was trying to sputter. "Told ya you'd be fine."

Octavia's right ear flicked. As far as she could tell, there weren't any bugs whizzing about. Raising her glass up to her lips, she stopped and let them hover just a centimeter from the edge, her purple eyes looking Hail's way in case she said anything else. It was always the kind of thing where you had trouble guessing—and usually assuming—when someone was done speaking, and so you opened your mouth only for them to do the exact same at a simultaneous time as you, and then everything was awkward and you stumbled over each other's next words and screwed everything up and then you went home and probably cried because you didn't have anyone else but your double bass and a tub of melting ice cream you'd left on the counter Godsdammit not again how many times could she possibly–

"By the way..."

Octavia about choked on nothing. She slowly lowered her glass, but kept her gaze.

"...that moan you made back there–"

"Get off it."

"I was going to–"

Octavia buried her face in her hooves as she muttered, "For Gods' sake..."

"–but," she clucked her tongue—catching Octavia's attention—sat up straight and proud on her stool, and patted both her hooves against her uniform, "can't get the suit dirty."

Octavia blinked away the honest nothingness she'd had to say for awhile, straightening her lips and turning away from Hail to simply go back to her drink. Hail, watching her out of the corner of her eyes, let out a nasally snort, grabbed at her stomach, and burst out in laughter that blended in way too well with the rest of the ponies still minding their own, loud business in the other sectors of the bar.

"Relax, I'm screwing with you," she finally explained, pouring herself another glass of wine and sipping at it audibly. "Not the whole 'you handling yourself in a bad situation' thing, but the whole 'wanting to bang' thing." Octavia glared at her. Hail brought up a hoof and waggled it with her stutter, "I'm, y'know, I'm, I'm straight."

"Thanks for the astute clarification, officer."

"And," Hail started, pointing her hoof at Octavia now with a grin, "you did kick some ass at that warehouse. Sent that guy flying."

Octavia felt a burning in her cheeks, but she wasn't entirely sure if it was because she felt graciously complimented or horribly regretful. She wasn't entirely sure if she was all right with not feeling any hard pull toward the latter all too much either.

Hail, her right foreleg reaching toward the floor, gritted her teeth and let out a little grunt. Bringing her extended leg upward, she dropped the plastic bag onto the countertop, leaned out of her seat, and began pulling the knot in the sack apart. She regarded Octavia as she worked, "Thanks to you, we can finally bust these guys and send 'em packing."

Octavia raised a brow. "You're not going to arrest them?"

"I didn't say bag packing," Hail replied.

Octavia thought on the words she'd received for awhile. She frowned, bunched up her cheeks, and cocked her head at Hail.

Hail, halting her work, looked from the bag, then to Octavia, then to the bag again. Octavia still stared. Hail, pursing her lips, brought one of her hooves away from her chore and made a circular motion with it as if to speed something along. Octavia still stared. Then she blinked, too. Hail opened her mouth, probably to explain what she'd meant, but shut her mouth, shook her head, and waved Octavia off with a groan. Both, going back to what they were doing, also returned to the main topic at hoof.

"So, whatever's in there is the key, then?" Octavia questioned, sliding her hoof along her glass' top.

Hail mm-hm'd, then decided to put it into words as well and responded, "Oh yeah. The things these guys sell is top notch stuff. We've had reports of ponies staying up for weeks on it." She took a second, a hoof going to her hip, and muttered, "Gods, this town is a mess," before returning to the seemingly troublesome knot.

"I sincerely hope it was worth all the trouble, officer," Octavia claimed, adjusting her position on her seat.

"Oh it definitely was, Octavia, aaaand..." she pulled apart the two top ends of the bag and waved her hooves around, "we're in!"

Octavia, finding herself just a tad curious, proceeded to peer over at her adversary's finds, but about fell out of her seat when Hail issued a very loud, but still profoundly flat, "What."

Hail's jaw fell agape. Octavia was very grateful there weren't any flies.

Reaching into the jet black plastic bag with one hoof and throwing the entire thing onto the floor with the other, Hail brought out an entire, very green, very spotted, very much fishy Largemouth Bass, held it in the air for a few graceful seconds, growled at every inch of its being as it dangled and lazily spun in the air, then promptly slapped it onto the countertop like it was a normal thing to do. Judging by the jump and the following look on the bartender's bearded, spectacled face, it most certainly wasn't in this establishment.

Launching both forelegs against the hard, now slimy oak, she clenched her jaw, narrowed her brown eyes, breathed quietly through her nostrils, and shook her head. "Son of a Godsdamned bitch."

Octavia glanced at the fish, then back at Hail. "Is... something wrong with it?"

"Why is it a fish?"

Octavia felt taken aback, like a violent wave had swept through her entire being. "It... wasn't actually supposed to be a fish?"

"How the hell could a fish be a drug?"

Octavia bunched up her chin, humming, and sat up on her stool. "I assumed that they flavoured the scales or something rather."

Hail shook her head violently as Octavia defended herself, then dragged a hoof through her mane and slightly upset her medal-crested hat. "It's gotta be here somewhere. It just has t' be here..." She stopped herself in her crazed ramblings, a slimy hoof touching her chin. Hail, a seemingly over-exaggerated look on her face, slowly, achingly, gradually, paralyzingly sluggishly turned Octavia's way, eyes narrowed. "...or... in here..."

Octavia's eyes widened. "I wouldn't think they'd–"

Hail's hoof penetrated the bass' gaping mouth before Octavia even finished, the sound of fur against slimy skin reaching her ears a lot louder than she'd liked. As she glanced about to make absolutely sure that nopony was watching—which they most certainly were—she found a like crowd no longer enjoying their night in tandem with she. "It's here somewhere, just gimme a sec," Hail claimed with her tongue sticking out, her entire left foreleg now completely submerged inside the bass' body. Octavia, minding the fish's face, murmured a quiet apology to it for the defiling it was currently being subjected to.

"C'mon Godsdammit, we've got a crowd now. Just gimme what I want and it'll stop."

Octavia was going to speak up and ask Hail if she was actually speaking to the dead fish, but remembered in a split second that she'd just done the same not four seconds prior. She shut her mouth before the words even left her tongue.

Hail, her teeth grit, yanked her hoof out of the bass' mouth in a very disgusting looking web of slime and orange dots. Shaking the mess onto the floor, where it slopped and splattered and collected, she opened her mouth, sighed, shut her eyes, opened them, and looked up at Octavia from between her eyebrows. Octavia kept her peace.

Her psychotic desperation seemingly over, Hail leaned forward and, to Octavia's chagrin, planted both her hooves against her eyes and began rubbing them violently with a groan. Remaining like this for a hoofful of seconds, she breathed in and out of her nostrils, brought her right foreleg—the clean one, thankfully—up, reached into a small bag on her belt, and placed some kind of paper on the counter between her and Octavia.

Octavia hesitated.

Hail, seemingly noticing that it hadn't been snatched out of her grasp or something, slid it over to Octavia further, then let go of it.

Octavia grabbed it and cradled it in her hooves.

The breath caught in her throat, and the words she had to throw at Hail were caught, too.

"Don't thank me. You did what I asked you to and you helped out. You've earned it."

Octavia felt her lungs begin working again. In her hooves, for the second time that week, was her ticket home. Back to Ponyville. Back to her bass, and her oven, and her life. Back home.

She looked up from her gift with a gasp. "But... the warehouse."

Hail threw her other hoof down and placed both into her lap. Straightening her lips, she said simply, "We'll figure something out." A grin found its way onto her lips, and Octavia had to admit it was a welcome sight to see. "Trust me, this isn't the first time we've tried to bust them."

Purple eyes flew back down to the train ticket. They looked back up, into a sea of brown. "Thank you!"

Hail set her right elbow against the countertop, bent it, and pressed her cheek into the hoof, then waggled her eyebrows and bunched up a small smile.

Octavia clucked her tongue, then placed the ticket behind the lining of her collar. "Sorry."

"S'all right," Hail replied, settling back to her prior sitting position. Minding the half empty wine glass in front of her, she added, "It's getting late. Why don't you head on back and get some sleep? You're gonna be home tomorrow, and then you've got that concert, what, in a few days?"

"In Trottingham, yes. The date's slipped my mind somehow, but I'll need to start practicing regardless," Octavia replied as she hopped off her seat, silently belittling herself for forgetting such an important event for no good reason. Beginning to trot toward the door, she called, "You said you'd be there, right?"

Hail chuckled. "Yeah, I got a ticket. Though it's, well, mostly to see Frederic."

Octavia's face fell flat.

"What? He's hot."

Octavia turned and shook her head. The words she had had to give to Hail, an invitation to drink the rest of the Moonwater then, fell away like the last stretch of an intense Jenga game. "Okay," she replied disinterestedly instead, placing a hoof against the front door.

"Oh, Octavia, by the way..."

She turned.

Hail winked at her, a hoof jabbing the air in front of her own body. "I like the hat."

Octavia parted her lips with an audible smack, then bit her cheek. "Thank you."

With that, she departed, hoping that the others were asleep by now. If there was anything she now wanted, it was to snuggle into bed without a word of fuss from an aggressive bird hybrid. Hopefully, Sesame wasn't smoking outside the hotel entrance.

She wouldn't be able to explain the fish smell and alcohol still clinging to her coat.

Gods, she needed a shower.

Comments

[the other sans]

Seems Octavia is acting like that Largemouth Bass being a fish out of water and all. But seriously though, Hail is really giving Octavia a mouthful considering how she just dropped that Bass on the counter to which I assume the bartender won't like having to clean up nor disinfect the thing and then possibly use rubbing alcohol or something to hide that awful gods forsaken fish smell that something died. I'd like to think that this is the most normal encounter for Octavia to have so far, bar none.

[re- Yamsmos]

8023053 Always a joy to have you.

Yeah though, Hail's just kinda rude, ain't she?

[hoodieninja447]

8056349 Got it.

[Litihur]

Damn, I've been away from Fimfiction for too long. Glad to see you're still writing! I swear, Tavi's monologues will be the death of her. Or perhaps the death of everyone around her. Just imagine Tavi monologuing down a street while unwittingly causing pain and misfortune to random ponies.

[re- Yamsmos]

8071244 Oh, I plan to see this to the end. If I do anything in my life, it'll be finishing this entire story.

Glad to see you back! The comment section is always a little thin.