Chapter 1: The Needle Drop
A crisp chill blew through the evening air in Canterlot. Cloudsdale’s weather pegasi were making their final preparations to release their winter stockpile upon the mountaintop, ensuring this year’s Festival of Flakes would be particularly frosty. Despite the cold, noble mares and stallions of the Canterlot gentry intended to be the first to witness the new winter’s first snowfall before heading back to their warm homes. More importantly, they wanted to make sure they were seen watching the festivities.
Every pony that everypony should know suppressed their shivers under lavish bundles of chic apparel. Half of the attendees' ensembles proved less than effective insulation, but sacrifices had to be made to ensure the unspared expenses were readily apparent. Pleasantries were shared, laughs were kept at a respectable volume, and copious amounts of wine flowed like rivers to maintain an illusion of warmth among the cold and calculating upper class.
In the midst of the many, one stallion stood out, the epitome of the Equestrian elite. Dressed to the nines in his hallmark tuxedo vest under a dapper winter business coat, he carried on various conversations with each participant hanging on to his every golden word. Despite the predictable frivolity of those around him waiting to receive his attention, the ever-model gentlecolt Fancy Pants maintained his prestigious decorum while playing among the hollow platitudes.
Unfortunately, his politeness had cornered him near the open bar with Upper Crust, along with several other ponies spaced just close enough to lock him in place. He’d maintained a slow walk throughout the night to keep warm, but now he wished he'd lived up to his namesake and had actually worn trousers. The sudden star in the finance world regaled her rapt audience with her most recent fiscal victories, though Fancy Pants was certain they were more interested in his listening than her bragging.
“And that was when I secured forty percent,” Upper Crust recounted with domineering glee.
Several chaste ooh’s and aah’s sounded with a smattering of genteel applauses, bringing a prideful smirk to the mare. She tossed her streaked indigo mane she’d had done just for this occasion back, briefly flashing a set of Imperial aquamarine earrings, which topped the rest of her luxurious, brand-new Crystal Empire ensemble. Upper Crust was on the rise, and she wanted everypony to know it.
“No, no. I do appreciate the sentiment, but please! It was the least I could do for all of our dedicated shareholders at Horst Holdings,” she politely assured as she pretended to wave off their devoted attention.
Upper Crust stole a glance towards Fancy Pants. Their glint bore that same expectation he’d seen a million times from a million different ponies silently fishing for praise from Fancy Pants, the Kingmaker of Canterlot. Being among those dedicated shareholders, his shining endorsement would surely make more than a splash in the papers tomorrow, adding to her already growing acclaim.
Of course, any story of her illustrious gains would fail to mention the loser in the deal, Regal Cents, who was notably missing from tonight's festivities. His invitation hadn’t been canceled—the stallion had paid handsomely for his plate months ago. Knowing Regal, he’d rather suffer the humiliation of absence than plaster a grin on his face throughout the entire event while his competition blatantly wore his demise on the hem of her new victory dress.
Still, Regal was a good pony, or at least as good as you could find in the cutthroat Equestrian financial sector. Fancy appreciated the stallion’s transparency with his business associates and partners, and even considered Regal to be a friend for what it was worth. True friendship was a rare and fleeting commodity to find at the top.
But this was the reality of high society. Behind the veneer of Equestrian splendor waged a savage war for bragging rights. It was a foalish back-and-forth played by ponies constantly battling one another to gain an upper hoof for even the smallest success. Anything and everything was fair game to be traded, exploited, and tossed aside when no longer useful.
Fancy Pants had simply grown accustomed to the proverbial bloodsport over the years, though he found the predatory glimmer of entitlement in Upper Crust’s eye irksome. His word would be the final nail in the coffin, and Upper Crust was chomping at the bit to dance on Regal’s grave. This called for a splendid word salad to spare Regal any further misfortune. He had almost settled on his spin when he was bumped, quite literally, out of his thoughts.
“There you are, Fancy Pants! I’ve been looking all over for you.”
Hearing the familiarly posh, Prench accent, Fancy heaved a mental sigh of relief. He adjusted his monocle and raised his neglected drink with his magic to welcome the opportune arrival of Fleur de Lis.
The tall mare strode through the swath of ponies without a care in Equestria. The perfect model of a pony, she parted them like the curtain of a fashion show walkway, showcasing her puffy white and pink Stalliongrad wool coat and bomber hat. A host of curious whispers followed in her wake since the fashion world was all currently abuzz with Germaney tube scarves, but it made no difference. Anything looked in-season on Fleur de Lis.
“Ah, Fleur. What a pleasant surprise.” Fancy bowed as Fleur curtsied for all to see. “I hope this evening finds you well.”
“But of course, my dear Fancy. I have always found your parties to treat everypony well enough,” Fleur answered with a soft smile. She kept her face locked onto his, but her eyes perused the surrounding ponies. She didn’t ask for anything, but her intrusion demanded a response.
“Was there something you needed in particular?”
Her sparkling smile widened. “Oui! A small matter has come to my attention regarding the evening’s musical entertainment, but...” Fleur gazed out over the other ponies in the small crowd. Her wandering eyes stopped at Upper Crust, seeing her frazzle slightly from her stolen spotlight. “I hoped that we could speak more privately.”
Fancy nodded in agreement and Upper Crust’s victorious smile sagged immediately.
“Of course, my dear.” The gentlestallion quickly joined the mare’s side. “Terribly sorry, but if you will excuse me, everypony. Please do enjoy the rest of tonight’s festivities if I do not see you again.”
Upper Crust snapped down on her tongue before she could scream. Seeing her headline slipping from her grasp, she floundered to find any objection to raise. Anything to get just the smallest of comments from Fancy would cement her victory in the eyes of the elite. She stepped forward, but a flash of Fleur’s flowing mane across her path cut her off from reaching her goal.
“Ah, Madame Crust. It is so good to see you again, but I’m afraid we will have to do the catch-up talking later.” Upper Crust tried to reply, but Fleur quickly turned her attention to the others before the banker had a chance to respond. “I do hope you will enjoy the snow tonight. Au revoir, tout le poney!”
With that, Fancy and Fleur trotted away in tandem, leaving the fuming star of the show without her desired endorsement. With the main attraction gone, the other ponies dispersed to more important gossip. The irritation boiling under the surface of Upper Crust found release in a less-than-subtle eye twitch. She turned her attention to the bar and ordered the strongest top-shelf wine to extend her patience.
Fancy Pants followed Fleur de Lis as she led him away from the bustling party. Several ponies tried to follow, but the pair’s longer stride ensured they kept up their quick pace to ward off any interruptions. They ended their journey at the far end of the castle grounds near the entrance to the royal hedge maze. Fleur paused to look at the statue of Discord, admiring the recently remarbled spirit of chaos.
“So, I do believe I am owed a favor, mon cher Fancy Pants,” Fleur purred.
Fancy simply rolled his eyes. “While I do appreciate your timely arrival, there was no need for you to interject on my behalf with Lady Faire.”
Fleur smiled softly and lifted her pristine hoof to suppress a dainty laugh. She fluttered her lashes and trotted quietly to Fancy’s side.
“Qu’est-ce que c’est, are you saying you truly enjoyed listening to their…” she turned a hoof in the air, searching for the correct word, “prattlings on?” the Prench mare inquired innocently.
“It is only a matter of time until you run into someone familiar with your penchant for pushing your luck.”
“Ah! I see what is going on here, cher. Perhaps you would’ve preferred the rambunctious rowdiness of mademoiselle Corn Acopia to, how you say, ‘save your sorry flank?'"
Fleur plucked a long piece of grass, stuck it in her mouth, and tipped the brim of her bomber hat like it had seven more gallons. In the same motion, she casually crossed a foreleg in front of the other while leaning against the carefully trimmed hedges like they were the walls of the seedy Saltlick Spitoon.
“‘Cuz I’ve tried getting through to your high-falutin’ friends out there before. Every last one of ‘em thinking they’re something special just ‘cuz of this here fancy-schmancy shindig going down in the Princesses’ backyard. I don’t think they’d stand a second of talking to an actual pony,” Fleur complained in Corn’s deep, country-fried drawl.
“Now, now. That’s more than enough method for me, Fleur. Was there something you truly needed, or did you simply whisk me away on a whim?”
Fleur chewed the grass for a moment more, and decided to swallow the blade before filing her two characters away and shrugging noncommittally. She vaulted over the back of the bench and plopped down on the other side, resting on her back and giving less than a damn about decorum.
“Meh. Little bit of columns A and B. And C. Might’ve looked into D more, but I’m less into that one. Club D gets all sorts of bad.” She shivered while wincing. The mare shifted around slightly on the bench before flipping over like a cat, causing her hat to shift askew on her head. “But, seriously. Did you see the look on Crusty’s face when I swooped in front of her? Priceless!”
Fancy sighed in both relief and exasperation, finally hearing the real Fleur. Two decades of life had done little to tame her foalish temperament despite having the full body of an adult five years her senior. The beautifully immature Fleur de Lis always enjoyed using and abusing her talents, natural and otherwise, to prey upon the naïvete of nobles who looked for nothing past her assumed pedigree.
“Seriously, Pantsy, I don’t know how you can stand these so-called ‘parties.’” She threw her hooves up to add the necessary quotation marks for emphasis. “A real party would have to at least be bordering on enjoyable. This is just a bunch of unbearable brags with sticks stuck up their flanks trying to see who can pogo the highest.”
Fancy wished he was more offended at her crassness. It didn’t help that her lovely mother’s frankness had fostered it, or that a small part of him agreed with the analogy. Shaking off the unfortunate imagery, he refocused on the matter at hoof.
“Speaking of parties, I am greatly surprised to see you here, Fleur. Not that it is unwelcome—quite the opposite actually—but I thought you were seeing the first snow with your classmates at Celestia’s school.”
“I was, but then we ran into Mr. Melody. He wanted to pass something along.” She clapped her hooves together. “So! Wanna hear the good news or the bad news first?”
“From Steeplechase?” Fancy pondered what it could be for a brief moment and then grimaced at the family name, noting the absence of his usual live musicians from the Equestrian Society for the Performing Arts. After making a few mental connections, he hazarded a question. “Did he have any news regarding Octavia’s whereabouts?”
“Bad news first it is!” Fleur exclaimed and clopped her forehooves together. “He said something about the quartet getting stuck in Manehattan after a winterized cloud accident. Long story short, there’s an avalanche on the railway between us and the Manehattan Musician Matchup. Your go-tos are no-shows.”
Fancy sighed in dismay. That meant his usual backups from the ESPA were, in all likelihood, stuck on the wrong end of the tracks alongside Octavia. All the other musically gifted ponies he could think of were attending his event as guests, and it would be highly inappropriate to request their services. Besides, the likelihood that any of them brought their instruments on a whim was farcical at best.
With no other contingencies prepared, Fancy would simply have to settle for no music. Damage control wouldn’t be too difficult, only tedious. Canterlot nobles had mastered the art of complaining about trivialities for weeks on end if everything wasn’t just so. The worst would be several days of backhoof compliments and talks about the scandalous silence at the most important party of the season. All would be forgotten within a month or two after another inconsequential matter took the nobles by storm, but it was a minor annoyance that Fancy would prefer to avoid.
“Hey! Equestria to Pantsy, you in there?”
An accompanying spread of nearby pebbles managed to snap Fancy from his deep internal musings. Seeing she had his undivided attention, she threw another shot partially for good measure, but mostly for fun. “Can you hear the good news?”
“Oh, of course Fleur. Go on.”
Fancy waited for Fleur to say something, all the while Fleur regarded him impatiently.
“No, I said, can you hear the good news?”
“Yes. And I likewise asked you to continue with what you were saying,” he reiterated cordially.
She flicked her right ear and furrowed her brow, growing annoyed at the continued silence. She finally gave Fancy an expectant look, emphasizing her ears by lifting a hoof up to it and leaning towards the party.
“Fleur!” Fancy shouted, his patience running thin with the party’s success hanging in the balance. “Would you stop messing around and tell me already?”
“You’re seriously telling me you can’t hear that.”
Fancy raised an eyebrow. “Hear what?”
Fleur groaned before hoof-springing up from her comfortable bench. She then gripped his head with her hooves and forcefully turned Fancy’s head towards the direction of the party, cupping her hooves around his ear for maximum reception.
“Can. You. Hear. It. Now?” Fleur enunciated slowly to make sure Fancy Pants could make out every word. Fancy was about to scold Fleur until his focus was taken by beautiful music in the distance coming from the party. It was not just any music, but his usual quartet from the ESPA.
Following the audio trail, he drew closer wondering who was playing the usual set. He rounded the corner to the party and gasped at a sight he hadn’t seen since the royal wedding.
Atop his classical performer’s stage stood a towering amalgamation of modern magitechnological engineering on wheels. Its black and neon blue stood in stark contrast to the carefully crafted Winter Rollout decor around the matching pearly white grand piano. He had seen contraptions like it often at fashion shows and less formal events, but unlike those more upbeat affairs, blaring pop music had been replaced by recordings of the classics by the Society’s best.
“See? I totally gotcha covered, Pantsy.” Fleur proudly puffed out her chest and assumed a strict, imposing stance with her hooves firmly planted on the ground.
“Behold!” Fleur boomed with a much deeper, commanding tone that perfectly matched her Stalliongradian style garb. “I provide musik to fine ponies of Equestria,” she proclaimed, adding a few more v’s and syllables than necessary to “Equestria.”
“A DJ?” Fancy questioned warily.
“Vernyy!” which Fancy Pants assumed meant yes as Fleur saluted firmly. “With best tunes in all your pastel land of fairies and good humor. As you ponies say, ‘am I goot, or am I goot?’”
Seeing his hesitancy, Fleur slowly lowered her hoof as Fancy passed by, shaking his head as he approached the stage. Looking around, there was seemingly nopony operating the device.
“Oh, what now?” Fleur moaned, dropping the act entirely.
“It’s rather impressive equipment, but I highly doubt that records will be an adequate substitute to satisfy the attendees.”
“That’s because you always need to overcomplicate everything. And it’s not as simple as putting a record on.”
Fleur pointed to the turntable as the quartet’s song drew to a close and an electric blue aura enveloped the turntable and a nearby trunk. The needle withdrew from the record and the disk hovered from the mat and was replaced by a different record flying from the trunk. The glimmer faded and the Royal Canterlot Philharmonic began with the first movement of a well-known symphony.
“A classic curated shuffle spell.” Fleur waggled her eyebrows to punctuate the sheer awesomeness before them, but it did little to assuage the stallion’s misgivings. The mare threw a hoof up in the air and scoffed. “Seriously?”
“I apologize, Fleur. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the effort, but there really needs to be live performers to play at such events, or at the very least somepony managing the station.”
“Who said there wasn’t?” Fleur cleared her throat for her Lady Faire voice and prettied up her posture, daintily beckoning towards the crowd with her hoof. “Oh, Miss de Jay? Could you come here for a moment?”
Turning away from the stage, Fancy’s attention joined the many other ponies who were already gawking at the performer currently raiding the buffet tables. A spherical mishmash of hors d'oeuvres floated next to her, enveloped in the same electric blue magic of the shuffle spell.
‘Miss de Jay’ was wearing her signature dark amethyst shades and a well-worn black wool hoodie with the word “Pon-3” stitched in white across the sleeves. Her two-toned blue mane and tail were unkempt, matching precisely the amount of effort she had put into the rest of her appearance. Fancy wondered if the slight shock of yellow hue to her fur was her natural color or evidence that she had skipped a few baths.
Heeding the call to attention, she hastily devoured several random selections from the globe of salad and pastries, cramming a smorgasbord of conflicting flavors into her mouth all at once. She wiped away a slight dribble of drool escaping her stuffed cheeks and forced the rest of her food down in a big gulp, punctuated with a satisfied sigh. Her disgusted onlookers didn’t share in her contentment.
“I skipped dinner for this. Sue me,” she griped under her breath.
The DJ joined the ponies on stage prompting Fleur to introduce the artist of the evening. “I present to you tonight’s entertainment: the mystical mistress of melodious mixing, DJ Pon-3, otherwise known as Vinyl Scratch!”
Despite her uncouth exterior, the young mare was still a lady, and at least to Fancy, should be treated as such. He offered a polite bow to formally greet her that was promptly ignored as she passed him by. Vinyl Scratch kept on her way towards her equipment without even acknowledging the gesture, or at least he thought she ignored it. It was difficult to get a good read on her from behind her obfuscating shades and tightly-drawn hoodie. Regardless, the slight was not lost on the other attendees, and murmurs broke out immediately among the onlookers.
Fleur tittered nervously and leaned into Fancy’s ear. “She’s just a little bitter about missing out on the pizza at the school. Vinyl had to rush back to her apartment to get her stuff and I sorta forgot to snag her a slice on the way out.”
Fancy regarded the ruffian somewhere between curiosity and acute irritation. He hoped his silent reproval would at least catch her attention, but she was far more caught up in finding a place to put her spoils from the buffet. Fancy turned back to Fleur with a hint of incredulity creeping into his rising eyebrow.
“Trust me. Vy’s the absolute best at what she does. Why do you think she’s always contracted for fashion shows?” Fleur offered quietly with a wink.
Fancy’s gaze bounced back to Vinyl who was now lounging on a matching black and blue folding chair. She flipped open some sort of tech magazine while munching on nothing in particular from her wad of food. Fancy gave Fleur one last pleading grimace.
“Hey! Don’t take my word for it. What does your butt say?” she asked, pointing to his kingly cutie mark.
“A discerning eye for talent doesn’t mean that I can simply look at a pony and divine their potential.”
“L’habit ne fait pas le moine.” Fleur clicked her tongue and shrugged, leaving Fancy to his own devices. She commandeered a cushion from one of the tables for herself and joined Vinyl on stage. Immediately, the two students struck up a conversation with laughter and gossip while the records continued to play themselves.
Despite Fancy’s misgivings about the DJ, he conceded the fact that there was music playing now. While it lacked the spectacle and classiness of the live musicians, the technology in Vinyl’s crisp sound system was probably the closest thing he could get on short notice. The shuffling spell bounced from album to album, playing orchestral ambiance present enough to be heard, but not distract from idle conversation. Perhaps this wouldn’t prove more egregious to the nobles' sensibilities than the sound of silence.
With the scheduled snowfall drawing closer and closer, Fancy continued making his rounds about the festival. It mostly amounted to listening to ponies make themselves sound far more impressive and important than they really were, but at least there were no complaints so far. He made a point not to strike up another conversation near Upper Crust. She’d already burned through her social capital for the evening, and any further calls for a host’s attention would be seen as a breach of decorum.
In other words, the festival was shaping up to be another perfectly uneventful event.
Despite Fancy’s initial misgivings, Fleur’s unapproved substitution hadn’t drawn much attention aside from a few curious glances and mumbles from the guests. As for Fleur herself, she didn’t bat an eye at any of it. While she didn’t care much for gentry games, she knew the rules and played them exceedingly well. Her endearingly ditzy Prenchmare persona expertly deflected any would-be criticisms by playing up the DJ’s popularity outside of the upper class. When that wasn’t enough, she was not above using her bewitching beauty to placate them with a wink or a smile.
If Fleur de Lis ever decided to play her hoof seriously, she’d undoubtedly become a tour de force among the elite circles. However, there was no chance of that. Fleur made it clear where her priorities lay by regularly returning to the DJ’s side rather than schmoozing the influential ponies around them.
As for said DJ, Fancy was at least vaguely familiar with her notoriety in certain circles. When the performer finally appeared in his orbit, she’d already amassed a sizable following. Her budding popularity with the masses made her a go-to DJ for Photo Finish and Hoity Toity. Surprisingly, that wasn’t where Fleur had met the young mare. Unbeknownst to him, the two had been best friends for years, having first met at Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. Not only that, but they were also in the same postgraduate research program.
Fancy recalled the times seeing the DJ playing at big-name events around Canterlot. Even if a show called for a more subdued ambiance, she never seemed to fail to beam an electrifying smile while bobbing her head to the beat of any musical genre she played. He’d even seen her blare traditional Yakyakistani yovidaphone music with ear-bleeding enthusiasm.
However, tonight was completely different. If Fleur wasn’t at her side, Vinyl just barely went through the motions, stiffly sliding the audio levels with a hoof or lazily looking through her record collection. There was no flair or fun to her presence. Sure, the Festival of Flakes didn’t call for anything more, but her utter lack of warmth worried him. When she was alone, Vinyl never smiled. Not even once.
Not content to see such a sour face, he excused himself from his rounds to bring two glasses of Maris chardonnay on stage. A flick from Vinyl’s ear showed she’d heard his approach, but her mood was unreadable as ever behind her various layers. When he got close, she put her magazine down and nonchalantly dove under her turntable.
Fancy took the hint, but pushed it aside and walked around to Vinyl’s side of her turntable. The DJ was hunched close to the ground, her face locked firmly away from his direction. He peered around, trying to catch the mare’s attention, but instead caught sight of several crystals spinning in place alongside other electric gizmos he could never hope to identify. She looked busy, but that didn’t mean she was actually busy. Either way, he pressed on.
“Pardon me, Miss Scratch.”
If Vinyl heard him, she didn’t show it. She poked her head deeper into the underbelly of the machine, causing her hindquarters to rise higher in the air along with her tail.
“Miss Scratch!” Fancy exclaimed as he turned away politely. “Please have some decency!”
A startled yelp as scratchy as her name accompanied the sharp ping of a unicorn horn striking metal. Fancy winced as Vinyl flopped out from the inner workings of her sound system with a pained moan, rubbing the sore spot from the impact.
“What the hay is your problem?” Vinyl sneered, her face burning bright red from either anger, embarrassment, or a mix of both. After another moment, she gave up on ignoring him and sighed. “What’d you want?”
“I apologize for not welcoming you earlier, Miss Scratch. I appreciate you coming on such short notice.” As he tried to mend the rift, a record extracted itself from the box next to him and rolled over to the turntable, swapping places with another that bounced back into its sleeve. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“Not really. Just busy staying out of everypony’s mane and hoping they do the same for me.”
Ignoring the obvious hostility, he levitated one of the chardonnays towards the DJ. “I simply wanted to offer you a refreshment and give you my thanks, Miss Scratch.” Fancy hoped the peace offering would melt some of the permafrost around the cold mare, but she wasn’t biting. “I admit I had some misgivings at first, since these ponies were expecting a classical quartet, but I believe your musical presence has been invaluable tonight. I am terribly sorry if I gave you the wrong impression.”
“Uh huh,” she replied with suspicion. Vinyl ignored the liquor and tore the wine closer to Fancy from his magical grasp. She turned her attention towards the wineglass and lit another spell, scanning it from top to bottom. Apparently satisfied with the result, she knocked the entire glass back in one swift sip and deposited the remains next to the box of records.
Slightly taken aback by the young mare’s gumption, Fancy took a sip from his own drink for some liquid strength. “I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been a bit dour this evening, Miss Scratch.”
“Sorry.” she grumbled, turning her attention to the sliders and switches dotting her equipment. “I’ll try to be more invisible then.”
“That’s not quite the point of my observation, Miss Scratch. I simply want to ensure the Festival of Flakes is enjoyable for everypony.”
Vinyl briefly tilted her head up and checked the crowd. “Everypony seems to be fine.”
“What about you?”
That got Vinyl’s attention. She stopped dead in her work and turned to Fancy Pants, pulling back her hood and lifting her sunglasses to reveal a pair of brilliant, cerise eyes glaring back at him. “What about me?”
The aggressive escalation caught Fancy by surprise. “I was simply wondering if there are any accommodations that would make you more comfortable.”
“‘More comfortable accommodations,’ huh?”
“Why yes. Whatever you’d like. After all, I pride myself on ensuring everypony, my staff included, are comfortable.”
“Wow. I wonder what that could possibly mean.”
“Maybe some more food? Another drink perhaps?” Fancy Pants pressed, ignoring the mare’s strange ire. “I personally recommend the confections myself. The griffe de la crème, as it were, was all claw-made by my good friend Gustave le Grand.”
Vinyl blinked twice and tilted her head. “Claw-made?”
“Precisely!” Fancy directed her confused stare towards what was indeed a beautifully enticing dessert buffet covered with a rainbow array of delicious cakes, crêpes, and fruits surrounding an ever-flowing chocolate fountain. “The white one near the center is Fleur’s favorite, though you didn’t hear that from me,” he added with a conspiratorial smirk.
Vinyl arched her eyebrow, seemingly waiting for another horseshoe to drop. “Wait. You’re serious?”
“Of course. You might think you’re full after sampling every hors d'oeuvre on the menu, but I have it on good authority that there is always room for dessert. It may not be as savory as a fresh slice of Manehattan-style pizza, but there are plenty of other flavors to explore. I’d highly recommend giving it a go!”
Vinyl slowly lowered her shades back over her face. “Uhh yeah… that’s okay. I’m, you know, busy with all of this, you know?”
“It’s really no trouble at all if you need to take a break. In fact, Gustave would likely split me straight down the middle if he found out I had allowed a young mare like yourself to go without even a small slice.”
“No! I mean, no thank you. It’s all cool. I’m good. Need to get back to work anyway,” Vinyl quickly deflected. Without missing a beat, she refocused on her music and did her best to ignore the obtrusive pony in her space.
“Ah, I see.” Fancy deflated slightly. “If you do change your mind, please help yourself or let me know if there is anything I can do for you. Nopony should be miserable on such a lovely evening.”
Vinyl peeked up from her mostly unnecessary spellcasting as Fancy trotted away with both wine glasses in tow. He passed Vinyl’s empty one off to a nearby server before continuing to mingle again. Fleur had vouched for him, but Vinyl was no stranger to ponies like him "getting too close to the talent.” She knew her fair share of paragons of sophistication that had spiked a drink or two to help somepony "relax."
There were the occasional rich ponies at these high-brow events that were too drunk or too dumb to know not to make a pass at her. Tonight’s host had been following the creeper script right down the double entendres until claws got involved. Vinyl had never had the flow reverse course so quickly from highroller harassment to birthday party innocence, and she wasn’t sure if she should raise or lower her guard more around the stallion.
The DJ closed the bottom panel of her turntables, no longer interested in distracting herself with fake work. For once, she was far more interested in posh party pony watching. She watched Fancy work his way around the party From behind her tinted shades. The stallion was a constant presence at rich pony gatherings, but beyond his triple A-lister status, she’d never retained much about him.
Seeing everypony vying for his attention, he likely held more sway over the public than the ever-reclusive Princess Luna. With that much power at his hooves, she’d assumed Fancy Pants would be completely insufferable. The Kingmaker of Canterlot had to be a Frankensaddle’s monster of foppishness, a terrifying amalgamation of everything she hated about the nobility, distilled and perfected into one stallion of her nightmares. Fleur said he wasn’t that bad if you got to know him, but there was absolutely no way a pony of his station could possibly be pleasant company.
Vinyl kept an eye on him as he navigated the party, waiting for his true colors to leak through. Ten minutes later, not only had he worked his way through three different conversations, he’d also checked in on every server and guard he passed. The gentlestallion had even taken a drink tray from an exhausted server, letting him catch his breath while he brought guests their liquor. He even collected their empty dishes to take to the kitchen. It was almost like he was being nice just to spite her.
Vinyl was born and raised in Canterlot, but in all her years, she’d never seen anypony with boatloads of bits treating ponies like… well, ponies.
“Vinyl Scratch!”
Of course, there were always exceptions like her best friend, Fleur de Lis. While Fleur may have been born with a silver spoon in her mouth, she was far more interested in using said spoon to fling peas at passers-by. A little anarchy went a long way in Vinyl’s book.
“Please welcome back to the stage, Fleur de Lis,” DJ Pon-3 announced for an audience of nopony. Her smile faltered seeing her friend storm the stage at full gallop. Something had set her off into one of her moods. She hadn’t even bothered keeping up appearances as she thundered ahead.
“Don’t give me those horseapples!”
“What?” The smaller unicorn shrank back as Fleur leapt over the turntable and pressed her face into Vinyl’s.
“Pantsy just told me you turned down cake! Le Grand cake!” Fleur snorted angrily. “What the hay is wrong with you?”
“‘Pantsy?’” Shaking her head, Vinyl refocused her attention on the matter at hoof. “Wait! Your mom’s like a patty-serve-Prench-whatever, right? You get to eat cake every day.”
“Non, non! Maîtresse pâtissière! And that’s totally not the point! It’s cake! Cake, Vy!” Fleur roared with terrifying conviction.
“I’m pretty sure ‘because cake’ isn’t a good excuse,” Vinyl replied. “At least outside of Ponyville,” she amended under her breath.
Ignoring her friend, Fleur produced a large plate with two pieces of the cake Fancy had pointed to earlier. She stood tall, holding the plate of sweets aloft in her magic and pointed two forks skyward like Lady Faire’s dual sabres in Ogres and Oubliettes.
“Behold! Gâteau à la Crème Légère de Gustave le Grand!” she proudly proclaimed with a dramatic flourish of her flatware.
Fleur’s grandstanding put the plate of cake in the path of Vinyl’s shuffling spell. A passing record nudged the cake plate over towards the turntable rather than the dining table. A moment later, Fleur swirled the forks around, flipping and twirling them in a mesmerizing dance before reading to strike down her foe.
“Wait! Fleur, no!”
But it was too late. A second later, Fleur plunged the plate down in a cakey coup de grâce upon the unoccupied turntable. The impact knocked the second needle loose which caught itself between the grooves of the spinning plate.
SCREEEECH!
A shrill scrape blared over the speakers with the tortuous intensity of a thousand dragon claws dragged over every chalkboard in Equestria at once. The speakers could barely contain the piercing wail of needles on ceramic as it resounded throughout the party with deafening ferocity. Its echoing cry forced every ear to flop closed as ponies desperately shielded them with their hooves.
Through the terrible shaking of the speakers, Vinyl managed to telekinetically flick the offending needle away from the plate, locking it down, and silencing the cavalcade of sound. The classical record was barely a whisper of a melody above the ringing in everypony’s ears. She pulled herself up to her hooves alongside Fleur to survey the damage.
Overturned plates, spilled drinks, and prone ponies littered the ground. At this point, it looked more like a gentrified food fight gone wrong than a highbrow party. As everypony slowly stood to their hooves, all eyes were locked onto the offending duo. The DJ glowered at Fleur, who at least had the decency to be embarrassed. She scooped a little cake off the offending plate and offered Vinyl a forkful with a sheepish smile.
“I see our substitute symphony couldn’t even handle running her little record player without crashing and burning,” one of the party-goers coldly interjected.
The unbearably posh voice sent a familiar bolt of anger through Vinyl’s fetlocks as Upper Crust stepped forward. The businessmare was doing her best to hide the healthy serving of red wine splotched all over the front of her brand new crystal blue dress, but failing royally. Vinyl might’ve considered almost showing a tiny, microscopic mote of sympathy if not for the utter contempt smoldering behind the other mare’s eyes.
“Why am I not surprised to see you at the center of this? You’re the only pony that could ever give that dreadful draconequus a run for his money.”
Nudging Fleur to the side, Vinyl walked around to meet Upper Crust face-to-face.
“I think we both know that you don’t belong here,” Upper Crust spat in contempt.
“Same to you,” Vinyl growled. “I guess you finally destroyed enough ponies to steal a place at the big pony’s table.”
An invasive glow sparked under the turntable. With fluid precision, Upper Crust tore the turntable’s main power crystal with one flash of a levitation spell, tearing a hole through the front of the chassis.
“H-hey! You can’t just—”
Ignoring Vinyl’s protests, Upper Crust tossed the irritant over her shoulder like garbage towards the fountain before Vinyl had a chance to react with her own magic. The DJ leaned forward trying to catch the crystal before it could take a ruinous dip in the pool, but she couldn’t quite reach in time. Luckily, a pink aura enveloped the sapphire just above the water, leaving a single ripple on its surface.
“Now now, Miss Crust,” Fleur interjected with Lady Faire’s Prench grace as she effortlessly inserted herself into the conversation. “Let’s temper our tempers. It was my mistake for putting my clumsy hooves where I shouldn’t, much like you marehandling such a beautiful gem.”
Upper Crust paused for a moment to clear her throat. “I was dealing with a problem accordingly.”
“Oh! In that case...” Fleur held a hoof over her mouth to hide a dainty laugh as she drew closer to Vinyl and slipped the crystal safely into Vinyl’s bag for safekeeping. “I am afraid you must deal with me too, as we two are a package deal.” Fleur hugged Vinyl, pulling her close to her barrel. “I am sure you know it was I who asked her to come this evening.”
“So I’ve heard.” Upper Crust arched an eyebrow at the affectionate display. “A commendable stance, but unnecessary for a pony such as yourself. It is the ultimate responsibility of those who know better to maintain proper control of their station to prevent such disasters from happening in the first place. Don’t concern yourself with her negligence.”
“Perish the thought!” Fleur pulled Vinyl even closer to her side, smushing Vinyl’s cheek into her chest with a complete lack of regard for personal space. Fleur turned her head skyward with a melodramatic sparkle in her starlit eyes. “Why, I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if my mistake would reflect poorly on my dearest friend!”
Surprise flashed across Upper Crust’s face at the bold claim. Before Vinyl could savor her shock, the older mare’s eyes cast a frigid, calculating glower down her nose at the DJ before turning her attention back at Fleur.
“Trust me, she's not worth it.”
Not a sliver of anger or hint of hostility tinged Upper Crust’s voice. Her valuation of Vinyl passed her lips matter-of-factly, deeming the DJ amounting to little more than a nuisance in her eyes. If Upper Crust was disappointed in anything, it was Fleur for not keeping better company. Out of all the things she'd gotten used to hearing from her detractors, one would always hit too close to home.
Worthless…
Vinyl’s breath hitched. Her blood ran cold. The old whisper of a memory wormed its way through her heart. Thankfully, her ensemble was just enough to mask the damage from everypony’s eyes. Unfortunately, Fleur had felt the flinch.
All at once, Faire’s elegance evaporated off of Fleur’s face. She straightened up to her full height, staring daggers at the crusty mare across from her. “Excuse you?”
The acute turn took the crowd by surprise, Upper Crust most of all. Any sense of grace was gone with the mare storming forward with the refinement of an enraged Yak. She leaned down close, with clenched teeth, sneering at the little mare with every ounce of contempt that she could muster. “I swear to Celestia, I will buck your sorry flank so hard that you’ll leave sequins in the stratosphere!”
Upper Crust appeared to hold her ground, but the furtive movement of her eyes betrayed her fear. For once, Vinyl was grateful that Fleur enjoyed playing airhead Prenchmare at fancy parties. It made it all the more impactful when somepony was faced with pure, unbridled Fleur de Lis.
“What in the world is going on here?” Fancy called out as he cut through the crowd of gawkers.
Upper Crust cleared her throat to try and seize control of the quickly devolving situation. “It is a simple misunderstanding, Sir Fancy Pants. One that will hopefully be resolved with your presence.”
“Non, non, monsieur! Cette chienne incrustée de pyrite—” Fleur shouted bitterly over the mare.
“Fleur! Behave yourself!” Fancy chided sharply, stopping Fleur’s Prench tirade in its tracks. Vinyl had never seen anything like it.
With the wind stolen from Fleur’s sails, Upper Crust politely cleared her throat. “As I was saying, I will admit I lost my temper, but I simply wanted to ensure Fleur’s choice of ‘entertainment’ wouldn’t be causing any more needless damage. While everypony appreciates Fleur’s kind gesture to give her 'friend' the chance to prove herself, she simply lacks your discerning eye for excellence. Had I known the need was this dire, I would gladly have offered my meager record collection to avoid such a disaster in the first place.”
A murmur of agreement arose from the other attendees.
“She is a corrupting influence on our dear Miss de Lis!”
“Did you see how she treated our host earlier? Reprehensible if you ask me.”
“What a terrible waste of a musical cutie mark.”
Vinyl’s stomach churned with a torrent of emotions. Hatred, embarrassment, sadness, worthlessness; she wanted nothing more than to lash out with her magic and burn the entire castle to the ground. But she refused them the pleasure of breaking down. She ripped her hoodie off and strode across the stage. Several ponies moved out of the way to make room for her expected departure, but she instead stopped in front of the grand piano meant for Frederick Horseshoepin.
They wanted music? She’d give them some damn music.
Vinyl expertly adjusted the instrument’s bench to a comfortable height before sitting down and ran a hoof over the ivory keys. After savoring its perfect tuning, she shook the tension in her hooves before straightening herself into a posture proper enough to fulfill her audience’s expectations. With a gentle touch, she began to play a song from memory.
The piece started out slow with echoing notes drifting gently over the audience. She plucked each simple, but impactful tone like a harp, its depth belying an almost foalish simplicity. Vinyl’s playing steadily picked up, weaving more complicated sounds together, melding them into a flurrying crescendo. Ponies gaped in awe as the lowly DJ wove a wondrous tapestry of sound before them. Some even double-checked the speakers to ensure the sounds weren’t being played by a record.
A few minutes into the performance, a cold breeze arose and ponies began feeling the chill of fresh snowflakes in the air. The wind sparkled with a winter-kissed, diamond shimmer that swirled around Canterlot, ushering in the first snow of the season. Couples cuddled together for warmth and watched the flakes fall. Vinyl’s piano gave life to the spectacle with flakes dancing together in the air. No two flakes were the same as they spun and twirled in their grand, icy ball to the music whisking them together in harmony.
For the first time in a very long time, Vinyl felt just a little thankful for the classical source of her cutie mark.
Fancy Pants smiled warmly as he listened to the impromptu live performance. Apparently the young DJ was full of pleasant surprises. The piece was a seasonal song intended for the spring solstice called “A Stroll Through the Secret Garden”. However, with each note falling as gently as the snow around them, it seemed perfectly suited for this occasion as well.
Fancy backed away from the stage. While obviously not a perfect fix after the ear-shattering sound earlier, the soothing music was enough to stem the guests’ anger with unexpected spectacle. The resulting fallout would be taken care of easily enough later anyway. He rejoined the others on the garden grass, but couldn’t keep his wandering eyes from the captivating piano solo echoing from the stage surrounded by silver snowfall.
“Beautiful, isn’t it, Pantsy?” Fleur sighed.
Fancy suppressed a discomforted grunt as Fleur reared up to her usual spot on Fancy’s back, using him as a table. She rested her knees on the small of his back and cradled her head in her forehooves like a daydreaming schoolfilly. Matching her gaze, he wasn’t sure if she was looking at the snow or Upper Crust trotting off the stage.
“Indeed, and dare I say, suspiciously convenient.” Fancy noted the time with a quick look at his pocket watch. Tonight’s forecasted weather wasn’t supposed to start for another hour and a half. “Would you happen to know anything about the early snowfall considering you vanished right after Miss Vinyl sat at the piano?”
Fleur shrugged and lolled her tongue out to catch several flakes, savoring the crisp chill. Her silence was unconvincing. Fancy cleared his throat, expecting a better response from the young mare.
“Apparently, Princess Luna requested the weather be bumped up immediately for royal scheduling reasons,” she finally answered.
“And from where did you hear that?” Fancy pressed further, looking over his shoulder. Fleur’s eyes wandered ever further from his gaze.
“Nowhere in particular,” Fleur answered with a remarkably convincing Princess Luna impression.
“You know impersonating government officials is a criminal offense, especially a princess.”
“Is it my fault if a guard happens to overhear me practicing and just so happens to get the wrong idea?” If not for the ghost of a grin working its way up her cheek, Fancy would say Fleur wore her undue innocence rather well. “Besides, after that foul, this party was clearly over.”
“I do not believe that was your call to make, Fleur,” Fancy said while looking over his shoulder. “Should I make your mother aware of this?”
“Are you sure you want to do that? Maman knows who’s judgment to trust more.” Fleur radiated with familial pride while Fancy remained unconvinced. “Plus, she’s probably still mad at you for having the gall to invite her instead of asking her to cater the event.”
“Fair point. Éclair always prefers working these events than attending.”
Fleur ran a hoof through her mane. “Always the hard working mare, Maman.”
“And I’m sure she wouldn’t be at all upset regarding your traitorous cake preferences.”
“Oh hoh, no!” she remarked with a swift jab of her knee into his shoulder. “If you even breathe a word about that, I’ll make sure I take you down with me!”
Fancy and Fleur shared a good laugh. It had been a long time since they simply talked, and it felt good to reconnect. Meanwhile, she adjusted her forelegs, kneading Fancy’s back like a cat to find a more comfortable position before leaning further into her favorite perch.
“Fleur? Could you perhaps remove yourself from my back? You’re not five anymore.”
“Mmm…” she pondered aloud for all of two seconds. “Not a chance.”
The light flakes had yielded to thicker snow drifts as Fleur helped Vinyl push the bulky mobile sound system towards Vinyl’s dorm. The DJ pulled at her hoodie’s strings to shun the cold. She wished she had worn leggings or at least a heavier coat like Fleur’s. Despite growing up in Canterlot, Vinyl never liked the cold mountain air, especially during winter. She usually relied on spellwork to warm herself up, but her magic was currently occupied with protecting her damaged sound system from the snow.
After Vinyl had closed out the evening with her snowfall piano solo lovingly called “Shut Up Juice in F Major,” she bolted from the garden party with Fleur before doing anything else she’d regret. Clobbering any one of those self-righteous nobles would’ve done wonders for her attitude, but she couldn’t risk upsetting potential clients anymore than she already had. She didn’t give much thought to their opinion of her, but a mare’s gotta eat.
Fleur had kept uncharacteristically quiet on their trip back. While the silence was somewhat of a welcome novelty, it was tumultuous at best. Vinyl knew better than to let it continue, with the cavalcade of emotions shuffling across Fleur’s face.
“Chill, Fleur. I told you I’m not angry,” Vinyl insisted, trying to convince herself more than Fleur.
The mare sniffed as the pressure finally cracked her. “Yes, you are!” Fleur cried bitterly. “You are and it’s totally my fault! If I hadn’t forced you to help out with Pantsy’s stupid festival...”
“He’d be up a river without a paddle, right?” Vinyl noted with a knowing smile.
Fleur opened her mouth to protest, again running through a procession of emotions. She sniffed, coming up short.
“Besides, it was for cake, right?” Vinyl added.
“Oh sure. Because cake.”
“Hey, your words, not mine. And you could always throw an apology party with an apology cake.”
“Really? Fighting fire with fire?” Fleur asked behind a half-hearted chuckle.
“More like frosting with frosting. It’s not the first time I’ve heard it.”
A small smile graced Fleur’s lips before slinking back down. She kicked a loose stone and watched it skip down the road a ways ahead of them. “I know how much you hate all that ‘high society’ stuff, Vy. Heaven knows I can barely stand going to those boring parties either.”
“That’s Canterlot for you. But, if I couldn’t handle a few critics, I’d be in the wrong business. Besides, the night wasn’t all terrible.”
Fleur arched an inquisitive eyebrow. “I blundered my way into framing you for ruining a premier event in front of the most influential ponies in Canterlot. How is that not the worst?”
“Well, before that, you were right about Fancy Pants,” Vinyl admitted, thinking back to the gentlestallion’s unexpected demeanor. “Kinda renewed my faith in ponykind here in Canterlot. Sure, he was kinda weird, but at least he didn’t seem like a total jerk.”
A small smile crossed Fleur’s face. “Not a total jerk, but still kind of a jerk?”
“What I mean is, I can see why you and Mr. Melody wanted to help him out,” Vinyl offered while dodging the question. “And, you two seemed... oddly close.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, you called him Pantsy for one thing and were all over him towards the end of the night. You wrapped yourself around him like a monkey.”
Fleur waved a dismissive hoof, articulating the finer points of her response by blowing a raspberry like a four-year-old. “It’s not my fault Pantsy is the best fancy table, hoof-rest, and bunk bed, all rolled into one.”
“Bunk bed?”
Fleur nodded confidently in reply until she noticed the growing concern across Vinyl’s face.
“Don’t get all weird on me, Vy,” said the pot to the kettle.
“You're the weird one here! I don't think you’ve ever talked about being that close to anypony. Besides, you’re the one who’s putting the images of beds and stallions in my head.”
“Ugh! Bleck! No! Pantsy’s like my—” Fleur stopped to cringe and desperately tried to physically shake her head enough to derail her train of thought. “Do you even know how old he is?”
Vinyl pursed her lower lip trying to piece a theory together. His voice didn't sound too old and facial fur always made a stallion look older than he was, but she ultimately gave up with a shrug before bothering to guess.
“Thirty. Six. Four years younger than Maman! When I was little, he used to play with me and carry me on his back all the time after my dad died.”
The picture of a tiny, nerdy Fleur de Lis riding the back of a random multimillionaire with no apparent connection seemed decidedly fishy. “So, like what, he’s your godfather, uncle, or something?”
Fleur stopped and thought about her response longer than Vinyl would deem necessary for someone so apparently close. “You’ll have to ask him.”
Before Vinyl could raise an objection, they arrived at her apartment complex. Fleur fished out the spare key from Vinyl's saddlebag and shoved it into the lock. “And we’re here! Thanks again for helping out, even if it turned into a slight total disaster at the end there.”
“Meh, I’ve had worse, like my debut performance at Cantrips.”
“Yeah, I know. I was there.” Fleur shuddered at the memory. “So. Many. Shots.”
“Exactly. And you know what? You’ve always been there to have my back, or to hold my mane back while I puke liquid failure for an hour.”
“Of course! It’s gonna take a whole lot more than a few knocks upside the head and a herd of angry aristocrats to break up ‘SchlurrVivyl!’” Fleur proudly declared with the same slobbery passion during her braces phase.
“Right. Cause we’re the best of the best…” Vinyl started.
“Better than the rest…” Fleur continued.
Vinyl leaned in close. “Ain’t no contest…”
“Friends!” they both said together with their painfully cheesy preteen lines.
Fleur pulled Vinyl close into one of her crushing bear hugs. Though she was used to it, Vinyl swore Fleur always used a bit of magic to make them particularly strong. Either that, or she had more of her mother’s earth pony strength in her than they knew.
Still, to Vinyl, it was good to know that even after a terrible night, she had Fleur as a friend through thick and thin. After saying their goodbyes, Vinyl shuffled her things into her cramped studio apartment. She tossed her hoodie next to the overflowing hamper and collapsed onto her bed to sleep the night off like a bad headache.
This story is dedicated to the ever important "Audience of One". The one whose life may be made better with a momentary escape from reality. Whoever that one happens to be, I hope you enjoy this story. I will do my best to tell it. - Lord Regulus
The song that inspired the piano piece is called “Rakuen~Secret Garden from Wolf’s Rain” by Yoko Kanno and the Seatbelts. The video might be region locked, but if you can, give it a listen or find it on Spotify. It’s definitely one of the most beautiful pieces I’ve ever heard. I found it on the Space Bio Charge album.
If you find a simple mistake in the GSP (Grammar, Spelling, or Punctuation), please let me know through a private message rather than leaving it in the comment section.
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Hm.
I claim 2nd comment!, Will be reading this later
Ayyyyy, I thought back on this about a week ago, and here it is being posted!
Thank you, Universe.
Thanks for the mention, Rego. My name is missing an 'er', but it's a link, so it is okay
10965288
How I got the link right but the name wrong is beyond me. Fix't!
What an outstanding chapter. I absolutely ADORE the way you've written Fancy Pants, Fleur, and Vinyl. I know Upper Crust is supposed to be the villain but she's still coming off as more boisterous than threatful, at least for now
Maybe...that changes in the next chapters
Though I am curious about the strange relationship you decided to develop between Fancy and Fleur. It's a take I didn't see coming and I'm looking forth to where you take it.
Also, seeing as Vinyl saved the night by playing a beautiful piece, it's a bit obvious that the media is going to have a field day with her in the coming days if the conflict is to keep going. Though I still enjoy that she kept her cool and it was Fleur who had the outburst
Loving it so far!
11019178
Glad you're enjoying it so far.
You're the first person to comment about this. Congratulations!
Well then that was something so it looks like the party is still going on and vinyl is still a little skeptical about this whole situation to keep her job as the music performance for fancy pants party and speaking of he offered her a little hospitality but she can be very something else and she doesn't even trust him too much but to her credit she doesn't think of him as a bad Pony or one of those stuck-up ones and Fleur de Lis try to offer her some cake but unfortunately things have gotten messy and very noisy and it did not please upper crust and it looks like she was about to make a scene with vinyl but Fleur stopped her and things got very heated between those two but good thing fancy pants stop the argument but it looks like vinyl have another plan so she instead she played the piano which that sounds pretty cool and again I really like what you did with those three it's really nice to see how their interaction so friendly and everything I wonder what's going to happen next
Oh, very interesting. It's a rarer breed of story to focus on Fleur de Lis quite this much, and I've never seen a take on her quite like this. Add that to a Fancy Pants balancing Canterlot high society with actually being a decent person (not uncommon for Fancys, but always nice nonetheless) and a well-written Vinyl with hints of surprising depth and you have me thoroughly hooked.
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One of my favorite things to share is that Fleur's entire personality is based on how absolutely weird she is in this clip from the show. With nothing else to go off, one could say she is perfectly in character, including the weird clinging.
It's all because she dissed the cake
I wish there were translation footnotes (endnotes?)
Pyrite-decorated b*tch? Is that an idiom of Fleur is being creative? (pyrite - "fool's gold")
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For this one, I'm letting folks that are curious about what the Prench is to look it up themselves. I have run it by a few French speakers for authentcity when I can.
And yes, Fleur is being creative. It'll become more apparent as to why she was able to pull pyrite out of nowhere.
Fleur: Sir Fancy Pants! This pyrite encrusted bitch is—