> Scenes from a Canterlot Restaurant
>  by Einhander
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> One
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	Scenes From a Canterlot Restaurant







ONE	







"N.W.!"

Noteworthy looked up from his menu and saw her. Raven hair, regal smile, grey coat, bow tie and all. A smile crept up his muzzle as nostalgia filled his veins. How long had it been? He waved her over enthusiastically, she rolled her eyes but never lost her smile.

As Octavia made her way through the cafe crowd to his table, warm memories flooded his senses. Images of 'picnics' when they were in the Academy, which were really sprout sandwiches eaten outside because they were too broke to eat in a cafe like this. Late night sessions spent discussing music theory which would always devolve into gossiping about colleagues and professors. She allowing him to listen as she spent hours honing her craft, him sitting in the room silently writing, trying and failing to compose a song that wasn't just a catchy rhyme to sell cupcakes.

And now, here they were. She was practically prancing as she approached his table.

"Oh, N.W., I'm so happy to see you, you have no idea..."

Noteworthy stood and hugged her, noticing a few streaks of grey in her mane as his muzzle touched her neck. He considered making a comment, but stopped himself. Maybe Octavia had grown out of her vanity, but, now wasn't the time to find out. Besides...

"The feeling's mutual," he grinned, pausing to shift his luggage from under the table to behind his chair before sitting back down.

"How much time do you have?"

"Just an hour." He raised his hoof to get a waiter's attention.

"An hour! Inconceivable!" She pouted. "Not nearly enough time to catch up."

"I know, I know." A mare in a blue uniform saw his hoof and nodded an acknowledgment. He turned back to her with a shrug. "This has been a whirlwind trip, not a real visit. I'm just happy I'm getting to see you at all."

"I can't persuade you to stay? Surely you can change your ticket till tomorrow. My guest room has been stocked for months with everything except guests."

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, I'm only home in Ponyville for a night before I turn around to Appleloosa the day after. Fiddlesticks wants to bring me in to help polish some of the songs on her new album before they record it."

A frown sprinted across Octavia's face, blink and you'd miss it. There was also a subtle shift in her muzzle, the act of a pony biting the inside of her cheek.

Noteworthy smirked. Well, her musical tastes haven't changed, but I'm surprised she's holding her tongue.

His eyes drifted up to the clock in the main hall of the Canterlot train station.

"Look, my train leaves in an hour-fifteen, but the last time I boarded the 12:05 to Ponyville at 12:05… well, there was only one seat available and it was next to a really mean donkey." He shuddered. "Not a moment's quiet. Not doing that again. So I have an hour."

"The cream of the Ponyville crop, I'm sure," Octavia sniffed, looking away.

There's the Octavia I remember. He felt his muzzle tighten, sharp words crawling up his throat.

"That town has no idea how much its stock went up when you decided to set up shop there." She was looking him in the eyes now. "A musician of your talents living in a cottage, I swear."

"Tavi, I own the cottage. That's better than renting a closet in Manehattan." 

“You chose to go to Manehattan after school.” She grumbled. “I told you, it’s no place for an artist to start out when they have no—”

“What? No bits?” The sharp words started to leak out of his muzzle. “No class?” 

She jerked her head back as if a snake had bitten her. “How can you think that?”

“Five minutes in, and you can’t help dumping on my life choices, Tavi.” He looked away, biting his lip. “"What am I supposed to think?”

A pause bloomed.

“Forgive me. I miss you. I miss everypony.” She sighed. “Canterlot is lovely, of course, but it’s… just my parents, and royals. It’s… lonely.” 

He rubbed his hoof across his face. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. “Look. You know you can always vis—actually, wait, have you even been to Ponyville?"

She hesitated. "Not since the Academy, to be fair. Not since..."

"Spring break."

"Spring holiday, yes."

Ah, yes. That holiday.

"Does she still—"

"Yes, she still lives there. She's rarely there, what with touring the night club circuit and festivals.” He cleared his throat. “But we see each other fairly often."

She nodded, glancing to her right with a resigned expression. It doused whatever frustrations he had. Different words came into his mind.  "We can't let it go this long before seeing each other again."

Her smile returned. "Absolutely."

"Madame? Monseiur?" The waiter finally arrived, bringing with her a light-to-medium Prarisian accent. "Bread will be coming shortly. May I bring you something to drink? Wine, spirits or beer; we have it all here."

Noteworthy blinked at the waiter, lips moving slowly.

When no words came from her friend, Octavia jumped in. "Yes! We'll have some wine, let me just look through the list..."

He reached for the pencil behind his ear and then looked at the table.  The table was no good, it was hard wood, too nice and the pencil wouldn't write on it anyway. They hadn't been given dining napkins yet. His parchment was in his luggage, no way to get it out without making a production of it. The words were fading, he had to find something...

"Now, I like this grape but not the year listed, can you recommend something comparable..."

He glanced around at the tables around him in vain. A pen and he could just write on his leg, it would be messy but it would work. But the waiter seemed to have no writing implements whatsoever. He reached for his water glass, trying to focus on what the waiter had said, the way it was said... Ah!

"Yes, I think that should do nicely, crisp but not too thin; N.W., dear, what do you think about the... Noteworthy, what in Equestria are you doing?"

He looked up with a confused expression, pencil still moving on his cocktail napkin. His water glass now resided on the table, melting ice dripping into the hardwood. "Sorry. What?"

Octavia raised an eyebrow, and she reached a hoof and pulled the napkin from his pencil. Hastily written and barely legible were the words,

Sixth day of summer, lunch with Tavi, waiter says: Wine, spirits or beer; we have it a

Octavia shook her head and chuckled as she slid the napkin back. "I was asking... The Summer Sun Pinot Grigio. A bottle. Yes? Good?"

Noteworthy tilted his head. "Actually, do you have any Cider? Apple Family Brand?"

Octavia's jaw dropped. "Cider?"

The waiter mare nodded. "Yes, sir. Draft or bottle?"

Noteworthy tilted his head the other way. "Draft, please."

"Very good. And Madame? Would you like the bottle of wine. for yourself?"

Octavia smiled; or at least bared her teeth. "No thank you, 'draft' cider for me as well. Why not? When in Roam."

The waiter mare nodded and trotted away. Noteworthy returned his attention to the napkin and finished the sentence in front of him.

We have it all here...

She muttered under her breath, "...or when Roam comes to visit, in any case."

Noteworthy folded the napkin and reached under his chair to open up his bag. Then his ears finally got his brain's attention. "What was that?"

"Nothing!" Her voice had a forced, but chipper, ring to it. "What do you think that little bit will be?"

He shrugged, tossing the napkin inside his bag and closing it with a click. "You never know when you'll need a good lyric, but you do know when you hear one. It helps that it already rhymes."

Octavia rolled her eyes. "And all music must rhyme."

"Hey, Concertos may move the soul, but ask a pony what music was playing when they had their first make out session..." he grinned and winked, "four out of five, they'll tell you it was a song, with a hook, a bridge and a chorus. And yes, rhyming."

She smirked. "Like Uptown Mare?"

He groaned. "Sure, point out my worst song..."

Chuckling, she played with her bow tie. "When my colleagues mock that song, I'll have you know, I come to your defense most vigorously and point out your other ditties."

He clicked his tongue. "That little ditty, in particular, silly though it may be, paid for my cottage. Also, I'd like to think that somewhere out there... Perhaps within a few hundred hooves of this cafe..." He leaned in close, and whispered, "There's a foal bouncing along with no idea she was conceived because of that song."

She struck out her hoof and bopped him on the head.

"Ow."

She stuck out her tongue. "Scamp."

He did a little bow, rubbing his head. "Guilty."

She chuckled.

The ciders arrived. They may have been in clear glasses, but it was Apple Family Cider, alright. One whiff, and the smell of apple and alcohol took him back to his new home, good times and better friends, and his first of many afternoons with...

"So..."

Her voice refocused him to the present. He smiled. "So... Where do we start?"

"Well..." She took a breath. "How is life in Ponyville? What are you doing? How are you doing? Are you seeing anypony?" She clapped her hooves together like a filly on Hearth’s Warming morning. "Tell tell!"

He chuckled and raised his glass. "First, cheers."

Octavia regarded the glass. Had the waiter brought her a tumbler of window cleaner, her expression would have probably the same.

"What are you more afraid of, Tavi?" He smirked. "That'll you'll hate it, or you might like it?"

She narrowed her eyes. "I'm not afraid of anything, Mr. Worthy."

Grinning like a cat, he raised his glass again. "Then cheers."

Glass met glass, and he took a long sip of his cider, casting one eye at the clock on the wall. Fourty-Seven minutes.

"Oh. Oh my." She blinked, licking her lips. "This is..."

"Good, eh?"

Brow furrowed, she took another sip.  She hesitated, looking from left to right before leaning forward and whispering, "it's exquisite."

"I knew you'd like it." He smiled as he took another sip. "I was a skeptic too, and now I line up with the rest of Ponyville."

"You must understand, all I've had is that Flim-Flam nonsense, and one might as well pour cheap vodka into applejuice, you'd have the same experience at half the price."

"Proudly made in Ponyville." His smile faltered. "For now, anyway."

She stopped her glass halfway to her muzzle. "For now?"

He shook his head. "Trouble at the farm. The grand-matriarch passed on, the brother has foals, leaving the sisters to run the whole place, one of whom is a teenager, so really it's just the one." He sighed.  "It's just a lot for Applejack- for one pony to handle."

She cocked her head and a smile, a vaguely naughty smile, began to snake up her muzzle. "A lot for 'Applejack', eh? On a first name basis with this... Farmer, was it?"

"It's Ponyville." He replied in a flat voice. "We all know each other's names."

She deflated a little. "Ah."

"Applejack'll be alright. Cider is in more demand than ever, she'll figure it out." He shrugged. "Probably. I should go visit. I haven't checked in since the funeral."

She sighed and brought her glass back to her lips. "Life is what happens to other ponies when one is not paying attention, I suppose."

He paused. "There's a song in there somewhere."

Frowning, she knocked on the table with a hoof. "No more delays! Tell me about your life. Catch me up!"

He glanced back at the clock. 

Forty-four minutes now. Doable.

He took a giant sip.

"Well..."