>You walk into the establishment, wiping your boots off.
>It's raining like a bastard out there.
>What used to be soft rain had been replaced by nails slamming against the windowpanes.
>The bartender gives you a warm greeting as you take your normal seat.
>Being at a bar long enough to have a 'normal' seat says enough right there.
>The bartender bringing you your preferred drink without saying a word says even more.
"Thanks, Tap."
>You bring the drink to your lips.
>Brandy, hard.
>It was a liquor so thick it burnt your nosehairs as you gave it a whiff.
>Just how you liked it.
>The door swings open, and a blue pegasus walks inside.
>You couldn't mistake this one for anyone else, given the description Gilda once gave you about her.
>She shakes off her rainbow mane like a dog, no regard for others.
>It's been raining like a bastard...and you think you know why.
>The small sip of liquid courage from before was more than enough to strike up a conversation.
>Everybody's got a story.
>And you're set on learning hers.
"Hey."
>She quickly looks up at you.
>"What do you want, bozo?"
>Charming. It's obvious why that griffon hung around with this one.
"A chat. Indulge me?"
>"Indulge yourself."
>A firecracker, eh?
>No use in trying to get close to this one it seems.
>Just as you sit back in your seat fully, accepting her silence...
>"I'm tired of not being noticed."
>The bartender drops off her drink.
>A beer, Blue Ribbon.
>Nothing fancy, but it gets the job done.
>Though, in this place, Blue Ribbon has an entirely different meaning.
>But that's another story.
>She chugs half of it down, and takes a long winded breath.
"You, unnoticed? Hate to break it to ya sister, but everyone knows who you are."
>She made sure of it too.
>From parades around town to writing in the sky, her weather control and aerial tricks are well known.
>"It's not those people I'm worried about.
>Maybe it's that sports team she's worried about.
"So what if that group hasn't picked you up, yet-"
>"It's not them either."
>She finishes off the last of her mug, clearly drowning in her sorrows along with her alcohol.
>"It's HIM."
>She lays on the facetious tone as heavily as possible.
>Just as you wonder who the colt might be, her scared expression as she turns away from the door answers your question.
>The red draft p0ny walks inside, greeted by a patron or two.
>Mac was a well know sort.
>One of your closest friends for sure.
>This is evident by the casual manor in which he walks up to you and hoof's your arm.
"Another long day on the orchard, Mac?"
>"Eeyup."
>He walks over to his usual table and sits down.
>Everybody's got a story.
>You'll get his later.
>For now, a certain blue mare is shaking in her boots over his arrival.
>If she had boots, that is.
"Go talk to him."
>This almost makes her spill the mug she's been clutching onto for the past minute.
>"No way!"
>If Mac wasn't so focused on his little group at his table, he would have heard that.
>"I, uh...I'm just used to people talking to me..."
>She goes to take a swig, but can't bring herself to.
>"They ask me for an autograph or want me to do a trick."
>She solemnly looks to the nearby window, staring at his reflection.
>"No matter what I do, he never seems to notice."
>You know Mac, he's a silent type.
>He doesn't miss much, but not one to speak up about things.
>Let's see if he noticed this.
>As the bartender goes to call up his drink, you stop him.
"I got it, Tap."
>He nods and hands you the drink.
>He knows you aren't one to steal other people's tabs.
>At anything, you'd pay for 'em yourself.
>You hand the drink to the blue pile of fear.
"Give it to him."
>She doesn't budge.
>"N..no way. That's..."
"Trust me."
>Your word is never taken lightly.
>P0nies see you as someone who's been around the block a few times...
>But that's another story.
>She gets up, glass in hand.
>Slowly, but surely, she walks to his table.
>Without interrupting, she slides in close and holds out his drink.
>"H-here, Mac."
>He goes to grab it, thanking the mare who delivered it...
>And stops.
>The tone of her voice, the look in her eyes...
>It could have been anything.
>But something caught his attention.
>She takes a seat next to him, and after a brief silence, conversation resumes it's normal course.
>Her included.
>Everybody's got a story.
>And those two are sure to make a new one.
>"Playing cupid again, are we?"
>You turns back to stop gawking at the two.
>Trixie levitates your glass and takes a sip.
>She's using magic, that's a good sign.
>She puts down your glass and slides it back to you.
>"You know you have a knack for this."
"On this again, Trix?"
>She sits in the seat closest to you, leaning in.
>"You know you don't alway have to matchmake for everyone else..."
>The intent in her voice is clear.
>As is the rejection in yours.
"Sorry Trix, you know I don't."
>With a frown, she steals more of your drink.
>While p0nies and love hold no contention in your heart...
>You refuse to treat Trixie like a random bar girl.
>...or like how she treats the random bar guys...
>But that's a story for another day.