She's Drunk, I'm Stupid.
"Vinyl Scratch! DJ P0N-3! Dude, you must be new because literally everypony here knows me." The song that was just out of their reach cranked up, like management wasn't reaching their daily audio-output quota, and the warm orange corridor that led so many glitzy ponies towards it shook. It was mid-way through the night, and ponies throughout Canterlot were transitioning from one place to another. Vinyl's neon lightning mane held steadfast, withstanding the cold and the shots that were bought for her by so many fans tonight. Octavia, on the other hoof, was getting sucked into her own drunken world of memories. Both waited on uneven ground.
"Wait, wait, I know what it is: we haven't hoof-bumped yet," Vinyl held one of her arms out and smiled a little too intensely at the realisation. "I'm sorry, man, I get ahead of myself sometimes and I was just so-"
"Are you high?" The bouncer's bold voice was clear over the thumping rhythm. His fur, dark brown against a darker stubble, didn't flinch at the wind.
"Woah, what? C'mon dude, I keep telling you, our friends have just been through. We're just here for the booze. I promise," Vinyl adopted the closest thing she had to a businessmare tone of voice. The bouncer's darkness was enhanced by the crisp night sky, and she fell into his scrutinising shadow.
"And her?" He nodded towards Octavia, whose eyes shot up from thought and began placing the surroundings in front of her.
"What about me?" She asked, using the time to remember what was going on. Vinyl must have toasted to at least a dozen sentimental things with Octavia tonight; each time accompanied by increasingly harder to swallow drinks. The last drink, what she could only describe as pink goo, clammed up her senses and settled thickly in her stomach.
"You look drunk." Ponies continued to pass by them as the bouncer checked each patron's photo with ease.
"Well! How rude!" She lifted a hoof to her chest, taken aback, as something told her that being offended was the only way to act at this moment.
'Haughtier, Octavia.'
"You making a comment on my appearance?" She stroked the black splinters of hair back into her mane.
'You can do better than that!'
"I haven't had nearly as much to drink as everyone you seem so content to let pass!"
'Make mother proud!'
Her voice rose. "How dare you single us out from all these sweaty plebians!"
Her hoof wavered in the instance of silence, pointing towards a large group of ponies whose bubbly laughter was cut short. Vinyl winced, and the bouncer's eyebrow climbed. The cobblestone paths seemed to carry no more high-heeled hoofsteps through the night. All eyes were on her as the next song came on and she turned, frantically, this way and that, apologising.
"Oh my Celestia, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean that! I channel my mother sometimes when I drink and it just brings back all this judgement and expectations and how I was always taught to - "
"Tavi, Tavi! Stop. You're not helping," Vinyl smiled sheepishly at the bouncer and held a hoof on Octavia's back as she began recomposing herself. After taking short breaths and going through a myriad of awkward faces, she recovered from her self-obsessive stupor. She shook her head and wondered what had her so strung out.
"I can't have her causing trouble," His voice brought normality back to the queue, and ponies shuffled ahead with scowls in the direction of the two struggling musicians.
"No!" Octavia's voice was precise. Sharp. "I will not be causing trouble," She began constructing an argument in her head and let the words follow. "I am so very sorry about that outburst, and yes: I have been drinking a little, but I swear to you it will not impact my demeanor when I am reunited with my friends inside this... elegant establishment."
Tartarus lit up the sky with its sign - an upside-down, flaming horseshoe, barred by a set of black gates. Octavia searched the bouncer's face. It was resolute, but it didn't seem to bear them any ill will. Vinyl, meanwhile, was antsy; her hooves scuffing the ground. It had been ten minutes since Lyra and Pinkie went ahead of them, as Octavia insisted on sitting still for a while after that pink tequila. They were celebrating Octavia's new stint at Fancypants' yacht club, which was the most nervous-citing opportunity that had come her way in a while.
"She still doesn't have ID," The bouncer pointed to Vinyl, and a group of revelers snickered as they passed by.
A throaty groan from Vinyl. "Argh! I told you: I left it in my other pants! Cut me some slack."
"Your other pants?"
Vinyl exhaled loudly. "I don't know! I don't know what I'm quoting that from, I don't own pants! It was a lie!" She scrunched up her face. "There, you got me! You happy? Can we get in now? I honestly don't know how this works, nopony has ever asked me for ID. I mean, do I really look under twenty-one to you?"
"Honestly, I don't know," The bouncer admitted. "Age-wise, you guys could be teenagers. I can't tell," He shrugged. The west-coast vibes of Dr. Hay sifted through to them, urging a time-out. Vinyl started unconsciously bobbing her head and became angry that she was not where the music was. Octavia wished she had brought a coat.
"Alright, Tavi. Regroup. You know what's gotta happen," Vinyl moved them both out of the zone of authority.
"Dibs not it," The words came before Octavia finished moving her mouth.
"Double dibs times infinity plus one, locked it and thrown away the key to the bottom of the ocean. No backsies," Vinyl grinned. She was too experienced at that, Octavia thought, sighing. She should make her own stupid system.
"Come on, our place is actually closer now than it was at The Salty Saddle. Ten minutes, there and back, tops. Just get my passport, it's gotta be in my closet somewhere."
Octavia didn't know whether she resented Vinyl's assumption that she would concede with little fight, but she liked to believe it was because Vinyl knew she herself was too incompetent for such organisational tasks. She was much better suited to occupying space and thus, salvaging some kind of position around the growing line of party-goers. Octavia didn't like the sound of waiting next to the bouncer and trying not to wobble, either. She was sure that the walk would help. But she couldn't let Vinyl know that. Octavia was doing her a favour.
"You owe me, Vinyl."
"Good. I love being in your debt," Vinyl gave an unsexy, mechanical flicker of her eyebrow, like a malfunctioning toaster slider.
Their home was a bastion of warmth and leftovers. Octavia would rarely eat out on nights like this, which made the allure of potentially-unrefrigerated prawn cocktail strong. She cursed and loved Vinyl for making her like this; the pleasures of morning cake was unheard of growing up, but now it was at least a bi-weekly thing. Vinyl once surprised Octavia by putting a layer of icing around the crusts of one of her hay sandwiches. She pretended not to like it at the time, but now she often creeps guiltily into the kitchen in the dead of night to feed. And now, standing next to her cello really shows off her fat thighs. 'Thanks, Vinyl.'
The heating washed over her dazed senses, but seemed to only encourage the lack of coordination. On the walk here, the night chill would help lock her movements home, assisted by the streetlights that acted as hazy, ethereal directions, but she was vulnerable in this enclosed space. Time to focus.
Her first few steps drifted towards the couch, which was a bad sign. She shook her head and wondered why moving was what she had trouble with. Was that the only thing? What if she was speaking incoherently the entire time, and only Vinyl could understand her? And that bouncer saying that she looked drunk - was it that obvious?
She careened towards the bathroom, barely avoiding the lamps that once again lit her path, and got a look at herself in the mirror. The image was swaying slightly, but it was clear her mane had taken a hit. She smoothed it out as best she could, and turned her focus to her eyes that were hanging low, shrunken. After adjusting the right level of openness, splashing her face with some invigorating water, drying, and replacing the touch of mascara to compliment her coat of grey, she smiled at herself in a variety of poses and felt new. For a few seconds.
She strayed towards her incredibly basic hairspray, which was essentially a watery placebo for the more expensive product, and drove through her mane with a hair-infused comb, clogged with blue and black strands. Looking at the comb that they should have replaced a long time ago, she felt something stir within her alcohol-besieged stomach, a sour feeling that told her she was forgetting something.
"Closet! ID!" After lingering a little in the bathroom's pleasant acoustics, which made her sound sober as far as she was concerned, she strutted towards Vinyl's room like ponies were watching her brand new self, and began digging.
"So where's the other dude? Whatshisname... begins with a 'B'? Brawn... Brass, Brawl?" Vinyl tapped her head, trying to remember.
"Bracer? I heard he got fired for drinking on the job. Oh, and punching the new manager in the face when he called him out on it," The bouncer smiled. Ponies were filtering through slower now, which gave him time to relax. Vinyl laughed.
"Yeah, that sounds like Bracer. Y'know, he literally carried me out of the club through a bunch of fans once. Like, over his head. It felt great. Ponies were just flying out of his way."
"Heh, yeah. I wouldn't wanna start anything with him," The bouncer stretched his neck and inhaled, before nodding somepony through.
Vinyl saw an opening. "Look, doesn't the fact that I'm still here prove anything? My friend'll be back soon, but... it's cold, dude. Just a quick exception? We're fifteen minutes late already."
The bouncer exhaled heavily, and took on a neutral expression. "I can't. Sorry." His eyes returned to a hard, narrow shape. Vinyl nodded, and held her head up to the sky. She breathed in the cooling air of the night, and was going to accept her position in life, until she saw a white mare with great legs and pink hair. She was surrounded by other mares, and had a stallion on her arm with striking light blue eyes against a navy coat. Fleur de Lis was not with Fancypants.
Before the socialites made it within earshot of the bouncer, Vinyl caught Fleur's attention with a mesh of flailing limbs and calling out "YO!" Vinyl didn't know why, but it seemed like there was something Fleur liked about her. She hoped. Fleur was hot.
She noticed Vinyl - it was hard not to given that she was right next to the entrance - and cantered over, leaving the fold of evidently well-off ponies to fall into a swift line and head into the club. The navy stallion joined her, eyeing the bouncer through a carefully shaped set of pointed turquoise hair.
"Vinyl! I don't believe I've ever seen you outside of a club. How are you?" Fleur spoke with a mastery over her words. She drew ponies into her sphere of conversation. Everything was enunciated with poise, and a certain appreciation for speaking was denoted in the way she carried her sentences unerringly. Vinyl did not have this.
"Hi. I... am stuck. Out here. But I know somepony who could help me get in," Vinyl smirked and inched her head towards the pristine pony, who rolled her eyes smilingly.
"The... 'bomb-ass OG... DJ-PON3,' to use your exact words..." Fleur nodded in a search for approval, "Stranded outside of a club in the famed Canterlot winter. You should make a song about this."
"I will - it'll be dedicated to you. And in the last part after it fades out I'll drop the beat again and just start screaming your name. It'll sound great with some reverb. Everything does," Vinyl stored that in her mind for later. "IF, you get me and Octavia in here. She's back at our place searching for something to use as ID."
"After her big day winning the chance to play at our yacht excursion, you couldn't take the time to go fix your own mistake. Really, Vinyl?" She looked at Vinyl with fake-tired eyes, slow and steadily blinking.
"Hey, I called not-it, though. Don't make me feel bad, it's our night out," Vinyl went up a level on the sober meter, and looked at Fleur accusingly. "Where is Fancypants, anyway?"
"Does Tartarus sound like the kind of place he would be? You don't attend Tartarus," Fleur looked at the ground and back to Vinyl with low eyes. "You fall into it. That's what I like about it." She drew her hoof languidly over her creamy, pink, curved mane, and Vinyl forgot what she was asking for a moment.
"Uh, yeah. Same," She rubbed the back of her head. "So, could you convince this guy, maybe? This isn't my idea of a good time."
Fleur caught the bouncer in her eyes, and arched her eyebrows. After a nod, she pushed herself carefully and easily into the bouncer's side with a soft turn of her body. The perfect distance to envelop him in wispy, expensive fragrances. Sweet and light. He remained stone-still, but looked at her in the eyes, a breath away from his own. Fleur's arm-candy was checking his hair in his phone and taking selfies.
Her voice was silver smoke, "I really appreciate what you do here. Without you, nopony has a nice time." She touched his heavy-looking arm, travelling upwards from the elbow. "You keep the scary, rough ones out, and us more privileged ponies safe in our own world. No jealous drunkards, no press-ponies looking for risqué shots. Don't think we don't appreciate it," The light press of her hoof on his shoulder completely relaxed his tensed arm. "We do. I do."
The bouncer's hazel eyes moved around in a half-circle and back, awkwardly.
"I... don't swing that way," The bouncer smiled. "Sorry. Thanks, though." There was a whine from Vinyl and Fleur pouted, the atmosphere dropping all of its tension and the numbing cold gripping everypony once again.
"So I'm still not that good, hm?" Fleur asked with her head cocked slightly. She looked at Vinyl, "I tried."
"Thanks anyway, Fleur," Vinyl frowned, and got a sympathetic smile in return. The model began walking in before being halted by the exasperated DJ.
"Wait, why does she get in without ID?"
"She doesn't," Said the bouncer, briskly, as a hoof jutted out and blocked Fleur's path. The blue stallion darted his eyes between her and the big brown stallion, seeming confused. Fleur cranked her neck back.
"What?"
"I don't know you," He shrugged.
"You don't?"
"No."
"Oh. That's... refreshing, actually. Here," She flashed the lid of her well-adorned purse and closed it in an instant. "Sorry, Vinyl. I'm sure Octavia will be back soon. Come by the VIP area then and ask for me. But if you're still here in..." Fleur checked her buckboy's watch, "Four hours, I'll bring you a drink." With a wave, Fleur and her partner were gone.
Left alone with the bouncer once more, the line having deteriorated to the point of not needing Vinyl to save a place, she groaned all her frustrations into the sky. When the ten allotted minutes had passed, Vinyl starting thinking of what could delay a drunk Octavia, and was equal parts amused and worried.
Octavia stared at their clock and tried to remember when they had all first set out. Mentally rearranging the hands of the clock didn't accomplish anything, nor did being sidetracked by questions of a metaphysical nature relating to the transience of time. She sat on the couch, letting herself have two minutes to re-hydrate and get the unpleasant ambience of alcohol to leave her mouth with the assistance of a caramel apple. A second pillow cushioned her upper back and she lay back in thought.
She was so afraid of this yacht performance. 'Performances.' A week of playing at sea for the most elite elites. She had the musical ability, of course, but she had been pulled so far in the direction of modest living that she wasn't sure if she could socialise with those who owned Canterlot anymore. There were so many rules when she had been growing up - she dreaded to think how complex Canterlot etiquette had become since then. Various greetings for stallions and mares, unmarried and married; not swallowing the wine; effectively using thirteen different types of forks.
She doubted they sat at home in a pillow throne eating caramel apples. She yanked it from the plate that it was sticking to and licked the comfort apple. The thought that it was this that was bothering her annoyed her to no extent. That her petty anxieties should almost ruin the amazing night that her friends had lined up. And now, instead of finding the ID, she was sitting in the cozy warm, feeling sorry for herself, while Vinyl froze. And even that didn't motivate her. She decided to pour a quick shot from Vinyl's stash, as the alcohol was wearing off. It would help her get back on track and feel better, too. She brought the brown bottle back to the coffee table and was mesmerized by the flickers of liquid as the tiny glass rose with colour.
She played at the Gala! That's princess-grade musical talent. Even if she somehow managed to offend everypony at the yacht club, there was no denying her achievements. Why wasn't that enough? She needed the opportunity to play, sure, and performing well socially was a major factor in being hired again, but feeling like this couldn't just be nerves. She stared at the little glass and didn't want it anymore. She hated it when she couldn't will herself to do things.
The door opened, and Vinyl stumbled through, windswept by horrible sobriety. "Octavia, what the hay?" Looking around, Vinyl saw the grey mare flanked by greyer cushions, a bottle of her own cheap whiskey with a shot waiting, and a caramel apple stuck to one of Octavia's pretty porcelain plates. "Oh. It's that time again." Vinyl trotted over to the couch and sat down with her arms resting on the pillow wall. She took off her goggles, rubbed her eyelids fresh, and stared at Octavia with inquisitive red eyes.
"Being serious doesn't suit you," Octavia half-smiled.
"I can learn. Come on, try me," Vinyl took the glass from their white table and necked it back. She refused to let it affect her expression, keeping her mouth tightly restrained for a moment. "That's how serious I am."
Octavia held her hooves up and shook them in mock-amazement, before sighing. "I'm worried about these yacht recitals. And being stuck there for a whole week."
"I know, it's gonna be hard without me, right?" Vinyl beamed.
"Actually, yes. You're easy to talk to. I have no idea how to approach these ponies."
"What d'you mean, did you hear yourself givin' it to that bouncer?! If that's not how these rich ponies roll then I've been lied to for a really long time."
"That was a temporary lapse in judgement which I will blame on all the drinks you've been buying me," Octavia raised her nose.
"See! Right there! Being a snob is so easy," Vinyl practiced keeping her nose in the air while keeping her eyes on Octavia, scoffing occasionally. When she saw that Octavia wasn't going to become her student, she continued. "And... yeah, I wanted to get us hammered tonight because I knew this was coming. And it's much easier to convince you to stop being stupid when you're hung over."
"I'm being stupid?" Octavia wanted Vinyl to tell her why it was stupid to worry so badly. And fortunately, Vinyl relished the chance to turn the tables on her.
"Yeah. Nopony is judging you, Tavi. I mean, if anypony is, then it's a Canterlot pony, obviously, but do you really think they're gonna... what... tell all their friends that your breath smells like rotten fruity cider?"
"Oh, Celestia, does it?"
"Totally. It's burning my eyes." Vinyl laughed as Octavia tried to smell her breath on her hooves. She gave up soon, and her expression became a little more relaxed as she turned between Vinyl and the clock. A week before the trip. The job. Half an hour late for the club. "But seriously, they care as much about you as you do about them. If it's nothing, it's nothing. No worries." Vinyl's smile was aggressively infectious.
"I can't relate to these ponies, though. And I really need this."
"Where's the fun in that? Are they gonna hire somepony who talks about..." Vinyl tried her best to think about high-class concepts, "Eating... lobster? The stock market? Or... somepony who tells them something different. Something that shows who you are. Who are they gonna remember?"
Octavia nodded, and when Vinyl wouldn't stop looking at her with intense eyes, said, "Me." Vinyl started dusting off her hooves in a job well done. "But there are so many social faux pas just waiting to trip me up!"
"You're a musician, not a princess. Stuff happens. Let the music tell 'em who you are." Vinyl shrugged, and explained it to Octavia like it was so easy. She believed her, though. There was no denying the fact that it was her worries that would cause any problems she would have. Going into it with a clear mind was best, and although that was hard, taking pride in her music could help carry her through.
Vinyl's eyes nearly exploded open, making Octavia recoil away. "And Fleur's gonna be there! If you want easy to talk to, look no further. She is so into me, it's crazy."
"Fleur de Lis?" Octavia asked. Fleur was one of the ponies that attended her audition.
"Yeah, she tried to get me into Tartarus while you were gone."
"What is she doing at Tartarus?"
"More like who is she doing," Vinyl wiggled her eyebrows akin to that of a dancing worm. She had a lot of time to get better at it.
Octavia didn't want to be one of the first to learn gossip about her new co-employer. Especially of gossip that concerned her main employer, so she tried to move on the conversation. But she didn't know what to say. She didn't care about the yacht club anymore. Unknowable events didn't concern her, for now. Maybe when she was throwing up in the toilet tomorrow it would all come crashing down on her, but Vinyl would be there to hold her mane back. Or throw up in the sink. Right now she just wanted to show that bouncer who's boss and get completely mashed, because she was getting paid to go on a cruise. And that felt pretty great.
Octavia filled the glass and drank a shot. She embraced the scrunchy face, and fell onto Vinyl's shoulder, her side held up by the pillow.
"Did I do good?" Vinyl asked, as she rested her head on Octavia's.
"Mm-hm," Octavia hummed. Her stress was melting away, but she needed energy. "We have to get going. Pinkie and Lyra must be so confused."
"Did you at least find my ID?"
Octavia said nothing, her mouth a perfect, expressionless line.
"I wanna see you dance when we're there, y'know."
"Good. I feel like dancing."