Title:           [PiE] Moonshine with Punch 4: You Can See Rum Row From Here
Author:          Fillydelphian
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/3QpEJb5K
First Edit:      Tuesday 4th of March 2014 04:45:07 PM CDT
Last Edit:       Tuesday 4th of March 2014 04:45:07 PM CDT

Berry Punch: Flapper
Days later, the three at Doyle's again. Berry and Anon finish a set, come back to the bar.
Conversation on Berry's adoption of Flapper culture
The yacht party on Lake Michigan
Berry meets Cynthia. Cynthia proposes a séance to see how to get Berry home.
Anon and Elenor come closer together
Berry sings the song of her...people?
 
>You awaken to the smell of cooking eggs.
>Berry is in the kitchen, standing on a stool in front of the stove.
>”Good morning!” she says happily.
“What time did you wake up?”
>”Pretty early. I wanted to watch the sun rise.”
>You look out the window. It's overcast.
“Did you get to?”
>”Kind of. I mostly watched the clouds get lighter.”
“Well, it's getting on in the year. We'll be seeing more of this,” you gesture at the clouds outside, “through 'til spring.”
>Berry drops the eggs onto two plates. You both sit.
>You spot her looking at something behind you.
“What is it?”
>She's staring at the box sitting atop your bookshelf.
>”What's--”
“No.”
>”Bu--”
>You glare.
“Don't push it, doll. That's not for you.”
>The pony shifts in her seat and pokes at her eggs.
>You sigh and rub your forehead.
“It's private. If you really want to know, I'll tell you, but not right now. That subject's not good for the digestion.”
>”Okay...”
“Shall we go to the market?”
>”I want to go to the tailor's.”
“What for?”
>Berry hops down from the chair and scurries to the sitting room. She returns with the Sears Catalog and flips it open in front of you.
>You stare down.
“A hat?”
>She nods excitedly.
“...Alright.”
1/
 
>Berry walks out of the tailor's with you hours later, looking as happy as can be. A tan felt hat rests on her head.
“Sorry it isn't from Sears. Were I a Carnegie...”
>”A who?” she asks, feeling the brim.
“It's not important.”
>You adjust your grip on the groceries.
>”Do you want me to help with that?”
“Not something a lady has to do.”
>A streetcar speeds towards you.
>”Is there anything more we have to get?” Berry asks. She looks around at the buildings. A few passersby stop and look at her. A man nearly crashes his bike for staring.
“Nope.”
>You flag the streetcar down and hop aboard. Berry follows.
>A man in a pinstripe suit keeps eying her. You size him up. He's the shifty type. After a second, Berry notices him too.
>”That's a mighty queer horse, you've got there, mister,” he says. “I'd swear to Mother Mary herself I saw it talking just as we pulled up.”
>”You did. I was,” Berry replies, sounding somewhat annoyed.
>”Well ain't that the cat's meow? A talking horse! You ought to take it on the Vaudeville circuit. I see you've already got it a costume there.” A few women at the end of the car turn their heads, wide-eyed.
“She,” you correct, “ain't a side-show.”
>”Level with me,” the man continues. “How long'd it take to train it to do that nifty trick?”
>”I'm not trained, mister.”
>People are staring now. You hear murmurs.
“You're bothering my friend.”
>You wedge yourself between the man and Berry.
>”Friend? You call that thing a fri--”
“Beat it, why don't you? Talking about something when you don't know from nothing. Who taught you manners?”
>You point at the street with your thumb as the trolley stops.
“Scram. Before I decide to teach you some.”
>The man grumbles something and gets off. He glares at you as the streetcar pulls away.
“Sorry about that. Some palookas...”
2/
 
>You give a hard stare to the remaining rubberneckers on the car. One by one, they turn their attention back to the newspapers and conversations they were having.
>”What was he talking about?” Berry asks.
>She kicks lightly at the floor.
“Don't worry about him.”
>”What's Vaudeville?”
“It's not important. It's theater.”
>”Like a show?” She perks up.
“Yeah, a show.”
>The mare fidgets. She has something to say, you can tell.
“Well out with it, doll. You want to see a show?”
>”Can we!?” She almost jumps onto you. Heads turn again. The murmurs start anew.
>You pat her shoulder.
“Of course.”
>You see Doyle's pass by.
“We're close. Come on.”
>Disembarking, Berry leads the way to the door.
>”Are you sure you don't want help? There's got to be seven flights of stairs.”
“Like I told you. It's not a lady's business carrying all this.”
>”And I'm a lady, then?”
>You start up the stairs with a spring in your step.
“You're wearing a ladies' hat, aren't you? It might not be an orchid, but it's still gen-u-ine.”
>When you finally get into the apartment, you see Berry's gaze flit to the box on the bookshelf.
“Why don't you help me unpack these? We can get on for some lunch later.”
>The mare eagerly comes to the kitchen. You breathe out in relief.
 
>Berry is not especially helpful in putting away the groceries. You end up doing most of the work, but she's earnest about it.
>She moves to and fro, trying hard to get at the cupboards and drawers.
>”So we have to be ready to go with Elenor at eight, right?” she asks.
“That's right. Wear something warm. We'll be on the water and the lake gets cold this time of year.”
>”Can I still wear my hat?”
“It's a high-class shindig, but I don't think it matters much for you. Not many rules for ponies, you see.”
>”You look nervous.”
“I'm not.”
>”Sure.”
3/
 
>Berry and you are sharing a small bottle of whiskey when you hear the knock on your door.
>”You want to get that, or should I?” she teases.
>The knocking continues while you walk over to the door.
>Elenor stands in the hallway waiting for you. She wears a cream-white dress and a fluffy fur coat.
>”Good evening, Mr. Mously,” she coos.
“Good evening, Ms. Hayes,” you reply.
>”Shall we be off? Cynthia will be waiting. Is Berry ready? You two must tell me about her first show. It absolutely devastated me that I couldn't come, but father insisted I help with the flower arranging mother's gotten into.”
>Berry pops up beside you.
>”Are we going in the car?” she asks excitedly.
>”We are! Why I can even let Anon drive.” Elenor turns to you. “You have experience driving, don't you?”
“I do.”
>”Stupendous! Let's go!”
>Berry skips into the hall ahead of you as Elenor starts down the stairs.
>You pull a cigarette from your case and light it on the way out.
>A chill wind blows through the streets. You settle behind the wheel with Elenor on your right.
>As you start it up, you cast a sideward glance at the blonde.
“So are you going to let me cash that check tonight?”
>”We'll see if the bank is open.”
>”Isn't it late for the bank to be open?” Berry asks. Elenor lets out a loud laugh.
“Your brother going to be at this get-together?”
>”He'll probably deign to make an appearance later on. Why do you ask?”
“Just wanted to know if I should prepare for a swell.”
>”There will be plenty in attendance already, I assure you. Max isn't all that bad, you know. He just tends to come off as a bit... aloof. You grow accustomed to it, I suppose. He is his father's son after all. Take this right and head up the boulevard. The landing is ten minutes away. There will be a boat waiting for us to take you, Berry, and me to the Holmes' yacht.”
>”This is going to be fun!” Berry yells over the wind.
4/
 
>You park Elenor's car and walk to the landing. Out on the water you can see lights.
>Berry stares, enthralled.
>You point.
“Is that a riverboat?”
>”Yes,” Elenor replies.
“From the Mississippi?”
>”Yes.”
“Why?”
>”Arthur Holmes is a very rich man with a great love for the work of the late Mark Twain. The riverboat was brought up a few years ago. He spared no expense.”
>The three of you board a small boat helmed by a heavyset man. His gaze locks on Berry, but he says nothing.
>”You should see his annual Mark Twain Anniversary Party. Quite the spectacle. Actually, it's just October now, isn't it? That's only a month away! You must come with me, and Berry too!”
>“Who's Mark Twain?” Berry asks.
“He was an author. Died a few years ago with the Comet. We can get some books of his for you, if you like.”
>”You'll love Mr. Holmes' Twain party, Berry.”
>The boat reaches its destination: a small dock attached to the side of the sizable riverboat. The three of you disembark and climb the stairs to the main deck.
>Elenor grabs your hand and tugs you after her. Berry hurries along behind.
>You come into a large dance hall filled with people. Elenor looks at the crowd for a moment before pulling you again.
“I take it you've found Cynthia?” you yell.
>Moments later, you spot her smiling at the two of you from the far wall.
>She passes a stem glass to Elenor when you get to her. “Good evening, Mr. Mously, Elenor. Thrilled you could make it. Where's this friend of yours you were so keen for me to meet?”
>Berry sheepishly pushes through the crowd and looks up at Cynthia.
>”My word. How curious!” she cries, hiding her clear bafflement.
>Berry raises a hoof. “Hello, I'm Berry Punch.”
>”And she talks!” Cynthia turns to you. “How have you been, Mr. Mously? My Elenor hasn't said a bad thing about you yet, I promise. Is Berry staying with you, then?”
“She is.”
>”Fascinating. Why don't we continue this little introduction outside? It's a bit stuffy in here, don't you agree?” She tips her glass at the crowd.
5/
 
>Outside the ballroom you can hear the waves lap the side of the riverboat over the sound of the band.
>Cynthia stares at Berry. Berry stares back.
>”I like your dress,” the mare says suddenly. Cynthia laughs. She's still clearly wrangling with Berry's existence.
>”Thank you.” She swishes the black and white fabric about. “I love your hat, by the way. It's absolutely adorable on you. Anon, did you buy that for her?”
“Just this morning. She hasn't taken it off.”
>”It really is quite fetching. Where did you say she was from, Elenor?”
>”Equestria,” Berry replies.
>Cynthia looks puzzled. “Where is that?”
>All eyes turn to Berry.
>”I--”
>”Wait!” Cynthia cries. “How did you get here, Berry?”
>”I don't know. Anon says I came down in a lighting bolt.”
“That storm last week. You remember that storm?”
>Cynthia's eyes go wide. She shouts “You came down in the lightning storm?” There's a wide, manic grin forming on her face. Elenor groans.
>”Here we go...”
>”Do you realize what that means?”
“No.”
>”She's clearly not from this world, if she came down in a bolt of lightning. So how do we contact the other world?”
>”Don't say it,” Elenor says.
>”What's happening?” Berry asks, looking increasingly concerned.
>”We hold a séance, of course!” Cynthia declares.
>You stare.
>Elenor finishes her drink in one gulp.
“A séance.”
>”Yes!”
“She isn't a ghost.”
>”We know hardly a thing about the other side, Mr. Mously,” Cynthia rebuts. “Who are you to say she didn't come from there in that storm?”
>”You've gotten her on one of her tears again. There's no stopping her,” Elenor sighs.
>”I'll make the arrangements after the party. This will be such fun!” Cynthia squeals.
6/
 
>”Wait here. I'll find someone to fetch us more drinks.” She runs off into the ballroom.
>You turn to Elenor.
“A séance?”
>”Cynthia's been reading heavily the work of Adelma Vay recently. It's practically all she'll talk about if you give her a chance,” Elenor states. “And before you say anything about it: yes. We are holding a séance and there is not one iota of difference either of us can make about it.”
>Berry turns her attention to the lake. She stares at the lights.
>”This boat is huge,” she breathes. “And this is a lake?”
“Sure is. Not even the biggest. Remind me sometime and we might be able to get up to Lake Superior.”
>”It's practically a sea, Berry.”
>You hear loud footsteps. When you turn, you see a tall man in a pressed suit walking towards you with a tray.
“That suit looks like--”
>”--Something out of Huckleberry Finn? That's Mr. Holmes, for you. He has about thirty 'negro helpers' working here.”
>Cynthia walks up from behind the man.
>”Thank you, Cyrus. Everybody take a glass!” she announces.
>Cyrus retracts his white-gloved hand once the tray is empty and walks off.
>You look down at the glass.
>”Champagne. Direct from France!” Cynthia laughs. “There is no thing out of reach for a Holmes, Anon.”
>She glances at Elenor. ”Oh, but I mustn't flaunt. Please, enjoy.”
>The band starts up louder. Elenor grips your arm again.
>”Finish your drink and come with me! There's dancing to be done, Mr. Mously!”
>Cynthia snatches your glass and Berry waves you off.
>”You shant keep Elenor waiting. Get a wiggle on, Anon,”
7/
 
>The dance floor is packed. It's a sea of bright cloth and kicking legs. Elenor pulls you to the center. You decide it's time to take the lead.
>The blonde lets out a yelp as you  turn the tables and lead her into a two step.
>While you dance together, you find yourself staring at her.
>The music slows down. She adds a playful twirl and keeps her green eyes locked on you.
>Both of you close the gap and clasp hands.
>When she's close to you, she stands on her toes and speaks into your ear over the band.
>”Thank you for coming.”
“Thank you for inviting me.”
>An announcer bellows over all the noise of the crowd.
>”Ladies and gentlemen, the indomitable Mr. A. L. Benham and the Jamestown Bayou Band!”
>A chorus of cheers erupts as the band plays still louder and more feverishly. Elenor takes the opportunity to dance even closer to you.
>Her perfume fills your nose. When she pulls away you move forward slightly as if by instinct.
>Out the corner of your eye you spot another blond walking into the hall.
>Elenor notices your attention being diverted. The ghost of a frown flickers across her lips. She looks back quickly and sees what you have. Max stands at the far end of the hall, watching the dancers and looking bored.
>When she turns back to you, her eyes are full of intensity.
>”No,” she mouths.
>You smile at her and nod. The music slows again and she rests her head on your shoulder.
>A second later, you notice Max looking directly at you.
>With a sly grin, you relax your stance and lead her in the Camel Walk.
>You can practically feel the annoyance coming from Max's direction.
8/
 
>Berry and Cynthia eventually find their way to you on the dancefloor, though Cynthia makes sure to keep the mare from intruding accidentally.
>After half an hour or so, the four of you go back to the deck outside.
>”Oh dear,” Cynthia suddenly mutters, looking behind you.
“What?”
>”Elenor,” a voice behind you pipes up. You turn to see Max lighting a cigarette and staring at you.
>”Berry, why don't we get some more drink? Father put up a special cask at the bow,” Cynthia suggests.
>”Why doesn't your friend go, too? I'd like to speak with my sister alone, if you please.”
>Elenor looks at you and shakes her head subtly.
“You can talk to both of us, mac. Berry, you get on.”
>”Is everything okay, Anon?” the mare asks.
“Everything's jake. Isn't that right, Max?”
>”Maximillion, thank you.” He flicks a trail of ash off the end of the cigarette.
>”What can I do for you, Max?” Elenor asks. Her brother's eye twitches.
>”It's not what you can do for me, it's what father wants.” He casts a disapproving look your way.
>Elenor starts. “You told father about him?”
>”Of course I did,” Max shoots back. “You can't just go off...cavorting with people like him. It's below your station.”
>”So you took it upon yourself to keep me in line, is that it?”
>”He's a jazz man. He probably plays in one of those dingy speakeasies for mobsters and the rest of the scum of the earth.”
“Not one for tact, are you?” you say flatly.
>”I didn't go to Europe to defend lifestyles like yours, Mously.”
>You see red.
9/
 
>Elenor manages to hold off your lunge.
>”Anon! Calm down!” she yells.
“What the hell do you know about the war, huh?” you snarl.
>Max looks taken aback.
>”I--”
“Shut up. I knew plenty of boys like you. Big shots strutting around the parade field because their daddies got them nice quiet places in the officers' tents. Made like they were the big men defending the world from the Huns. I was lucky. Didn't have much of that going around in Algeria. Boys like you didn't last a week. So where'd you serve, huh? I bet you were in charge of the boys they had stand out looking for biplanes. Bet you think you paid your dues there so you could strut around here acting like you did us some great service, don't you? Well you didn't pay a damn thing. I paid my dues at the Somme, you son of a bitch, and I'll be god-damned if I let you act like you did the same.”
>Silence.
>”I...” Max starts.
“What.”
>”Coastal patrol reserve. I was in charge of a platoon watching the coast for enemy ships.”
“I thought so. You want to change your tune now?”
>A hard expression comes over Max's face. He straightens his tie and tightens his stance.
>”Do what you wish, Elenor. There's clearly no helping it. Just don't expect father to approve. Good evening.”
>He walks off quickly and deliberately.
“Sorry for that.”
>Elenor watches her brother leave for a few seconds.
>”It's quite alright. I thought he would play that card. He always does.” She turns to you. “Is it true what you said?”
>You lean against the railing and notice a puff of pink poking up from a window.
“You can come out, Berry. I know you're there.”
>The mare timidly comes out from behind the door to a nearby cabin.
>”Sorry...” she says quietly.
>Elenor looks at her silently. You can tell she's dreading the same question you are.
>”What was the war?”
10/
 
>The blonde turns to you. “Anon?”
>You pull a cigarette and strike a match.
“That isn't something we should talk about here. It'll ruin the whole night.”
>”It's got something to do with that box you keep on the bookshelf, isn't it,” Berry says.
>”Box?” Elenor asks.
>Berry's gaze shifts uneasily between you and Elenor.
“Keepsakes.”
>”Tell me one thing, Anon,” Elenor says softly. “You mentioned Algeria.”
>You swallow.
“Yes?”
>”What did *you* do?”
>You fiddle with your cuff.
>”Anon.”
“Infantry. The Legion turned us over to the Army once Uncle Sam got involved and I was transferred to the Ambulance Corps.”
>”You were in the Foreign Legion?”
“For three years, then the Army until the end of the war.”
>You toss your cigarette into the water.
“Why don't we get back to the party? We can talk about it later. Christ, I need a drink.”
>Elenor slips her arm around yours.
>”That sounds lovely. Come along. You owe me more dances, as well,” she says sweetly.
End