Author's Notes: Not much to say about this one, except for the standing complaint that I'm not completely happy with it. Still, I like the characters, even if I'm still finding who they are. Hope you guys like it, because I've been finding Crock an interesting character to write.

Oh, and one last thing, right now, I'm currently out of ideas. I want to keep writing, but I don't have any ideas that really seem worthy of writing up at the moment. So, if you guys have anything you want to see (that preferably includes Twilight) send me a private message, if I use the idea all credit will go to the source.

But for now, grab a cup, can or bottle of your favorite beverage, sit back, read, review and enjoy.

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"Mix! I need a shot of scumble, a bottle of Buck Lite and a Slow Comfortable Double-Entendre," Crock called, tapping his hoof on the bar to get the other unicorn's attention. Mix nodded, her dark, glossy hair bouncing with the motion, and started preparing the drinks as Crock looked out over the bar. There seemed to be fewer people there then normal, the buzz of conversation unable to carry over the ever-present thump of music from the neighboring clubs.

Mix set the drinks down on the bars surface and Crock slid them onto his tray. Once he had them the gray unicorn made his way through the bar, weaving between the wooden tables.

"Here you are," he said, levitating the drinks down to the tabletop. "Enjoy."

The ponies nodded their thanks and turned back to their private conversation, drinks in hoof, as Crock swept away to make another round of the tables.

"How did you manage to do this all by yourself?" Crock asked once he'd reached the bar again.

"By making people come to the bar if they wanted a drink," Mix laughed, sliding a drink down the bar to be snagged by a sullen looking pegasus. "And by keeping a careful ear on things to make sure nothing got out of hand, though that was a lot easier before that club opened up next door."

Crock frowned, slightly confused by the odd turn of phrase, and was about to ask her about it when there was a loud crash, barely audible over the thudding beat of the music. His head snapped around to see one of the tables erupt into violence as one of the drinkers, a lanky green earth pony, threw himself at a pegasus named Starchaser, one of the bar's regulars.

"Mix! We have a problem!"

The older unicorn slid off his stool without waiting for a response from his co-worker and rushed across the room. He reached the fight and grabbed the earth pony, Sprout was his name, if memory served, and dragged him off Starchaser. Sprout reacted automatically and violently to being grabbed, kicking out with his back legs and catching Crock in the stomach before diving back at Starchaser.

"Mix, I need a hand!" Crock roared, pushing himself between the fighters and getting hit several times for his troubles.

Back at the bar Mix was darting hesitantly back and forth behind the heavy wooden counter. "Crock. Crock, what's happening?" she called, her panicked voice unable to carry over the roar of the music.

On the other side of the room Crock was still trying to separate the two ponies and, unable to reach each other, they had settled for beating on him. The gray unicorn hit the floor and grunted as a kick to the ribs sent him rolling across the floor and into a chair. Disentangling himself, he rose to his feet, wheezing for breath. He'd never been a very physical pony, and he wasn't getting any younger.

The hardest part, though, was not grabbing the two idiots and bashing their heads together until they both stopped moving. The anger was there, bubbling beneath the surface, screaming to be used, and the two were drunk enough that it wouldn't be to terribly hard.

But he couldn't. That had been the first thing he had promised himself after he'd climbed out of the pit of alcoholism and self-hate that he'd dug himself: that he'd never let his emotions take control again. Never let despair and horror drown him until drinking seemed like the best refuge, never let anger burn him until his fists seemed to be the only answer.

Luckily, the other patrons had finally stepped in and forcibly separated Sprout and Starchaser. Once the authorities had arrived and the inebriated brawlers dealt with, Crock returned to the bar, nursing his ribs.

"Are you alright?" Mixed asked in concern as the unicorn slowly sank onto a bar stool with a groan.

"Just great," he snapped, struggling to keep his anger in check. It was bubbling and frothing, raging like a beast to escape the cage he had made for it. "Though I'd be better if my co-worker had bothered to get off her flank long enough to keep me from getting mine kicked."

"I wanted to, but the music was too loud. I didn't know what was going on."

"Of course, I forgot how loud music can impair your vision." He knew he was being unfair to Mix, but the anger was there and while he had stopped himself from striking the two morons who'd been fighting, he couldn't keep himself from striking out at his friend. Besides, she should've helped!

"More like how being blind can really impair your vision!" Mix snarled, pulling off her glasses and slamming them down onto the counter hard enough that Crock heard a loud crack.

His anger froze and withered as he saw her eyes for the first time, they were silver-white, the irises a soft, bloody red. She'd always worn her glasses, and he'd just assumed that they were a fashion statement of some kind.

"Oh Celestia, Mix, I didn't-"

But she wasn't listening. Without grabbing her glasses, she stormed out from behind the bar, snatching a collapsible red and white cane from her saddle bag as she went by, and stalked out the door, slamming it behind her.

Glancing back and forth, Crock let out a curse and darted back to Scumble's office, shoving the door open and sticking his head in. The big earth pony was sitting behind his desk, struggling through a stack of paperwork, and didn't even look up.

"Scumble, can you watch the bar? Mix just stormed out and I need to go talk to her."

"Fine, but yer workin' the weekend then."

Crock nodded and ducked out. A moment later the door swung open again so the unicorn could stick his head back in.

"Umm... I already work this weekend. I work every weekend."

"Then yer closin' all next week."

"Umm... I close every night too. There's only me and Mix working here..."

"Jus' go after 'er, Crock," Scumble sighed, still working his way through the monthly expense report."

"Thank you!"

(* *Asterisks go here * *)

Crock finally found Mix sitting on a bench in one of Ponyvilles squares. It was still early in the evening, and the clubs and businesses were still doing a brisk business.

"Mix!"

"Oh, it's you."

"Look, I'm sorry about what happened, I didn't know."

"Uh huh."

"No, really. I didn't know. You never said anything and it's not like you ever take off your glasses. How was I supposed to know?"

"You really didn't know?"

"No!"

Mix stared at him for a moment and the sighed, motioning silently for him to sit down.

"Here are your glasses," he said, dripping the pair of dark shades into her hoof. "You left 'em back at the bar."

"Thanks," Mix replied as she put them on. "My eyes tend to put people off, so I try to wear them whenever I'm in public."

"I think your eyes are beautiful," Crock said, trying to make up for everything that had happened and was surprised to realize that he meant it.

The two lapsed in silence for a while, Mix consumed in her thoughts while Crock just watched the night roll past, waiting for

"Tell me what you see, she said, finally.

"Mix..."

"Tell me what you see," she repeated, her voice firm and unyielding. Crock sighed and then turned and looked out across the square.

"I don't know, there's a fountain, some benches, a few ponies. I don't know, what am I supposed to be looking for?"

"You're not looking for anything, you're just telling me what you see."

"Why?"

"Because I'm curious." Mix was quiet for a moment. "Do you know what I see? Nothing, obviously, but I know that there's a fountain in the center of the square. There are benches around it and Lyra and Bon Bon are sitting on the bench closest to us. A group of friends just stepped into the club across the square from us, and the couple to our left are having an argument about where to go for the night."

"How did you do that?"

"I can still hear. I can hear the water in the fountain, and I can hear Lyra talking, which means Bon Bon is probably nearby. I can still 'see' the world Crock, it's just more fluid then it was when I was a filly. Which is why it bugs me so much when people think I need help all the time, even my boyfriend does it occasionally. You're the only pony I've met who doesn't, and it turns out that's only because you didn't even know I was blind."

Unsure of what to say to that, Crock let the conversation lapse into silence.

"How about this," he said eventually. "If I ever step over the line and start treating you like your helpless, you can smack me. Alright?"

"Sounds good, just be careful. I've been told I have a mean right hook," Mix joked.

"I'll watch out. Now c'mon," Crock said, getting to his feet and offering the raven haired unicorn a hoof up, sighing when he realized she couldn't see it. "We should get back to the bar or Scumble'll make us work weekends."

"But we already work weekends..."

"You know what? That's what I said."

Mix laughed and Crock joined in. It felt good to let out all the stress and emotion that he'd been holding in most of the night.

"Thanks for understanding, Mix."

"No problem, it's what friends do, isn't it?"

"Yeah... I guess it is," Crock said slowly.