Title:           They don't offer pie
Author:          Stegtorn
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/1WcGJizN
First Edit:      Wednesday 16th of July 2014 11:18:39 PM CDT
Last Edit:       Wednesday 16th of July 2014 11:18:39 PM CDT

Suggested music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z4nhDtkzhRg
 
>You should take up smoking.
>Seriously.
>Everyone in this town has a /thing/ so you should get one too.
>So far you've only seen minotaurs and griffons smoking, and they only drop by this little town once in awhile.
>You could be like the local smoking monkey.
>On second thought, maybe that's not such a good idea...
 
>Sundays are the only times you have off.
>Between tough work at the train station and sleeping the whole of Saturday to rest off all that hard work you have little free time.
>You spend it walking mostly.
>Ironic, exerting yourself when you've got a long day tomorrow.
>Whatever, doesn't matter, the system works.
>You go for your walks on Sunday mornings.
>Today is quiet.
>A few ponies trot around, one or two wave at you - maybe recognizing you from the train station.
>Not to be rude but you can't really recognize any of them.
>Maybe they're just being sweet.
>Speaking of sweet.
>Maybe you should get a girl.
>It's nice to have a partner.
>A warm feel lights up your chest, that's weird.
>Most people in town are already paired off.
>Seems being single in Ponyville is unusual.
>You haven't really been looking but now that you think about it most mares are wrapped around stallions, husbands and boyfriends.
>Or would it be coltfriends?
>Then what's the word for husband in pony...?
 
>At noon you usually stop at a cafe, whatever is closest, most are good.
>The Blue Moon is your favorite though.
>Today you dropped into the Red Dress.
>It's a new place you think.
>Small, not too many tables.
>Their menu is also very limited.
>You aren't complaining though.
>You sit out in the patio, the sectioned-off open air place in the back.
>Three tables out here, one with an umbrella cover.
>It's such a mild day you decide to pick the completely open one.
>Perfect day for a cup of coffee.
>Seems someone else agrees with you.
>A grey, angry looking mare sits across from you at the other table, coffee in front of her, staring intently at the tabletop.
 
>She's alright.
>You sort of like gruff girls.
>They have a certain quality.
>Something about her tired eyes, tense form and aggressive air makes you want to approach her.
>Picking up your coffee and sitting across from her is going to be quite the trip.
>Ponies are usually really open, she probably won't turn you away, even if she wants to.
>If she wants you gone you'll read her body language, down that coffee and split.
>If she wants you to stay, maybe you'll make a friend.
>Well it's now or never, you think, cupping the underside of the dish with your hand.
>As quickly (but also as carefully) as possible you skirt around your table and settle down next to the mare.
>She scowls up at you from the table.
>Your face can't seem to form a smile right now so you just move your eyebrows up.
>"May I help you?" She questions.
>Hmm, nice voice.
>Pleasantly deep, assertive.
>"Well?"
>Oh, damn, you've been staring at her, eyebrows raised, for far too long.
"I just, I just felt... Hmm."
>"You felt... Hmm?" She asks, mocking you a bit.
"I felt compelled to sit with you."
>"Is that right?"
"Yes, that's right."
>You sip at your coffee with the faintest twinge of nervousness.
>The wind picks up just enough to be noticeable, rustling her mane.
>"I guess I can't stop you," she says with a huff, looking back at the table.
>Looks like she hasn't touched her coffee.
"Are you a musician?"
>She perks up, eyes wide and nervous.
>"I might be, why do you want to know?"
"Well, if you're not and you're carrying around such a large instrument I'd be concerned."
>You point to the cello case leaning against the table.
>"Oh, right."
>She straightens herself out.
>"Yes, I play the cello."
"That's nice. I was never a musical person myself."
>"So what kind of person are you?"
>Her tone sounds reluctant, but she still answered.
>Also, she isn't really looking at you.
"I work at the local train station. I guess I'm a train kind of person."
>"Sounds boring."
>You take another sip, squinting at her.
"So does rubbing a bow against a cello."
>She gives you a crude smile.
>"You might be right on about that one."
"Wait. I don't think I've caught your name, what is it?"
>She takes a moment to think, which is strange.
>"Octavia, yours?"
"Anonymous," you reply proudly.
>"Oh you're going to be one of those?"
"One of those?"
>"Mysterious, you can't know my name types."
>You let loose a quick chuckle.
"No, no. That's really my name."
>"Strange name," she says, squinting at you.
"I didn't pick it."
>You shrug while taking a sip.
>"Very strange name."
"Octavia isn't so common either, you know."
>"I guess not."
 
"Do you live around here?"
>"Yes I do, around the block actually. Yourself?"
"Sort of."
>"Sort of?"
"Well, all my possessions are here in the apartment I rent, but I've got a little place in Shady Hollows. Nice vacation spot. So I suppose I live there too."
>"You own a home? Impressive."
>Was that sarcastic?
"Lucky night of betting with a rich real estate agent. Heh. Maybe you'd like to see it some day?"
>"Anything is possible in your dreams," she replies, smiling widely.
"So you're a musician and a comedian, 'impressive'."
>For the first time she takes a sip of her coffee, her hoof a little shaky.
"You alright there?"
>"I'm fine," she growls.
"Jeez, no need to get defensive."
>"Bah. I suppose you're right. I just haven't slept in awhile."
"Then why are you drinking coffee?"
>"I don't really know. I bought it just to get a spot in the cafe. Thought maybe a nice relaxing sit in the open here might do me some good. Can't very well write my music without any sleep."
>You let that sink in.
"How long have you been awake?"
>She sighs and taps the table twice.
>"Should be about three days now. Don't get too worried. At this rate you're going to bore me to sleep."
>She cracks another smile.
"One of these days Alice. Bang-zoom..."
>You punch the palm of your hand.
>"Straight to the moon!" She follows up, weakly throwing her hoof up to the sky.
"Surprised you know that one."
>She grins at you weirdly.
>This one probably doesn't talk to others much.
>She's kinda weird.
 
>"So tell me," she begins, look at you with her tired eyes, "What's it like working at the station?"
"It's okay. Pretty boring, tough work, but it pays well enough."
>She nods at you, looking around.
"I would imagine being a musician is pretty cool."
>"Not at all. Between having to write the music, and the jerks I preform for, it's a real pain in the butt. Plus the pay isn't so good."
"Maybe you should consider coming to work at the station."
>"I'm not built for manual labor."
>You gaze off into the distance, something catching your eye.
>Looks like two mares having a scuffle.
>You nod subtly to Octavia, encouraging her to turn around.
>"Oh hey. I know those two."
"Oh yeah? Do they whip out the claws on each other often?"
>The mint and white mare have come to blows, even if they are soft.
>"More often then they'd like to admit. They love each other though."
"Oh, lesbians?"
>"W-what? No, they're girlfriends."
>Wait...
>"I'm debating breaking up that fight."
"Wouldn't that constitute manual labor, in a way."
>She gives you a look of condescension.
>"It's gonna be a few years before you're as witty as me, kid."
"Kid? We can't be more than a few years apart."
>She looks back at the two fighting.
>Now they've begun hugging.
>Are they sobbing?
>Ponies are odd folks.
>"How old are you?"
"I'm 20. You?"
>"I'm 7." [HORSE YEARS]
"Hell, you don't look it."
>"And you don't look twenty."
"Are we talking horse years here?"
>"What the heck is a horse year?"
 
"So, you going to that summer festival?"
>"Of course, everyone does."
>She takes another meek sip, glancing into the cafe interior.
>The sun is getting a bit low.
>How long have you too been talking?
"You going to be preforming there?"
>"Not this year."
"But you have in the past?"
>"Once or twice. It's horribly set-up. I don't know why I agreed the second time."
"It always looks pretty organized."
>"Looks are deceiving. Like you looking about 6 when you say you're 20."
"6? That's a bit low don't you think?"
>"Not at all."
"Moving on. I've always wanted to try the Ferris wheel they set up, but every year I just forgot to get on it. You ever given it a spin?" You ask, laughing at your own wordplay.
>"Forget? More like scared." She smiles at her own joke. "And no...I've never gone on it."
>Did she blush just then?
>You can't even tell, not with all that fur.
>Damn horses, so hard to read.
"Well, I suppose if you're not too busy we could go on it sometime."
>"Sometime would have to be between July 20th to the 23th."
"Why is that?"
>"That's when the Ferris wheel is up."
"So is that a yes?" You ask with a smirk.
>She squints at you, but then gets distracted by something in the distance.
>"The sun is setting."
"So it is."
>"You thinking of heading home?" She asks.
"Well if you're going I will."
>"Then you can walk me home," she says gruffly.
>She doesn't smile directly at you, but when she thinks you're not looking she smirks.
>You take her instrument for her, trying to be a gentlemen or...something.
>"Why thank you. It's nice to know you think so low of me."
"Huh?"
>"I can hold my own bag."
"I thought you weren't built for manual labor?"
>She laughs.
>"Now /you're/ trying to be a funny guy?"
"I /am/ a funny guy," you reply with a grin, trailing a few paces behind her.
>For letting you stay so late without complaint you left quite a big tip behind at the cafe.
>You also paid for Octavia's unfinished drink.
>But you weren't paying for her coffee, you were buying something extra...later.
 
>The pair of you stand outside her door, Octavia looking up at you curiously, her instrument back in her position.
>"So. Summer festival, next Sunday, you'll pick me up at six so we have plenty of time to enjoy ourselves."
"Right," you say with a hint of sarcasm.
>"Good night," she adds before moving to turn around.
"Try to get some sleep. And if you can't, why not try out my bed?"
>She stops.
>"Not a bad idea, you can put me to sleep with more talk of that train station."
>She heads inside, leaving you with a smile on your face.
>You considered giving her a kiss but decided against it and now it's too late.
>You stalk home to get some rest before you hard day of work tomorrow.
>Octavia is a sweet girl.