The sun was well on its way to meet the western horizon by the time Cheerilee left to meet Miss Harshwhinny. Its parting rays set the crystalline city ablaze, the metropolis itself and its native inhabitants glistening with a romantic, unearthly sparkle. Cheerilee soon found herself in front of a sparkling temple to getting completely plastered, otherwise known as the Rose Quartz Canyon Bar, and she planned on having a religious experience. She thought the place looked way too pretty to be described any other way. Though the fact it was only two stories tall may have made her a bit biased.

The teacher’s ears shot upright when she found Harshwhinny already there, standing near the entrance.

“Miss Harshwhinny?” she spoke out as she trotted up, just to be sure. When the mare looked up, she added, “You’re awfully early!”

“As are you, Miss Cheerilee,” she pointed out.

“Well, I don’t really believe in fashionably late. Or politely on time, I suppose,” Cheerilee chuckled as she stood in front of the other mare.

“That makes two of us,” Harshwhinny said with a chuckle and a smile.

Cheerilee looked the other mare up and down. The games inspector wasn’t nearly as… attractive all prim, proper, and, well, dry. Her earrings really brought out her eyes, but the way she did her mane only really brought out how big and thick her muzzle was. She looked very professional, yes, but with the bags under her eyes she looked more like a rundown mare than one with a big time career. Though that wasn’t the only reason; a vital piece to her normally imposing presence was missing.

“If you don’t mind me asking, where’s your purple blazer? I’ve never seen you without it,” Cheerilee asked.

“Don’t want to get anything that expensive messy in a place like this. Crystal Empire or not, a bar is still a bar,” she explained. She motioned to the door with a flourish of her foreleg and a small bow. “Now, shall we?”

“Of course!” Cheerilee said hastily, bowing in return and trotting through the front doors. She mentally facehoofed when she remembered that she was going to insist that Harshwhinny go ahead of her for… reasons.

Inside the Rose Quartz Canyon was a crowded place, mostly full of native crystal ponies but with plenty of tourists to match. The floor and tables were polished, pink quartz, hence the bar’s name. Though not a canyon in sight… or anywhere in the Empire, if she remembered right, which struck Cheerilee as odd. There were also tons of mares attending that night. In fact… were there any stallions? She shrugged the thought off when she saw the cloth beanbags that served as the seats, her nostalgia for her college years swelling in her chest something fierce.

She only took about two seconds to take in the ancient bar before Harshwhinny abruptly took the lead, trotting up to the counter and taking the only seat that had a vacant neighbor. Slightly surprised, Cheerilee froze long enough for a pegasus tourist to take the seat meant for her. She trotted up and was about to say something when Harshwhinny shot the pegasus a death glare, her cyan eyes practically radiating ice and venom, her back straight and head reared. The poor mare cringed and quickly backed off, the fear of God put in her.

Harshwhinny nodded in satisfaction and turned to the bartender as Cheerilee took her seat, jaw slightly agape. “That was… I’m really not even sure what to call that,” Cheerilee admitted.

“In my line of work, you learn how to intimidate. It’s necessary to get the job done with as little fuss as possible; ponies who aren’t already intimidated by my position need a little strong arming to get the point,” Harshwhinny explained casually, raising a hoof to get the bartender’s attention.

Soon enough, up sauntered a sparkling crystal pony mare. Her crystalline coat was as cyan as Harshwhinny’s eyes, and her sparkling mane draped down to her shoulders in a seductive curtain of red. “Good evening, dearies. My name’s Beryl,” she introduced herself with a little smile. “Are you two fleshies together?”

“We are,” Harshwhinny nodded. “I’ll take a glass of orange mead.”

“And for you, deary?” Beryl asked Cheerilee.

“Red wine for me,” Cherilee said with a meek smile. “One of us has to stay somewhat sober.”

“If you say so, darling,” the bartender giggled. “Coming right up!”

As Beryl left to mix their drinks, Cheerilee turned to Harshwhinny and repeated, “Fleshies?”

“It’s the crystal pony name for us. Almost purely in jest, I assure you,” Harshwhinny said, turning to her. “The locals hold no ill will towards us.”

“Still, weird name,” Cheerilee said. “And I admit, I don’t know much about crystal ponies, but I didn’t think they were actually made of-”

Harshwhinny quickly put a hoof on Cheerilee’s lips. “Rule number one of crystal ponies: never ask them or wonder in their presence what they’re made out of. It’s considered incredibly rude and ignorant.”

She removed her hoof from Cheerilee’s mouth, and the teacher said, “I’ll try not to wonder out loud, then.”

“Good; they’re already sick of it thanks to all the tourists coming and going due to the Games,” Harshwhinny sighed. “But enough about that; I came here to get away from the worries of my job. Tell me about yourself, Miss Cheerilee.”

“Here you go, dearies!” the bartender practically sang, handing the two of them their orders. Cheerilee let out a grateful thank you, and Harshwhinny half nodded, half bowed silently.

“Please, just call me Cheerilee,” she answered with a flip of her foreleg. “And there really isn’t much to say. I was born in Fillydelphia, though I don’t really remember it. My parents moved to Ponyville to get away from the noise of the city when I was really young, and I’ve lived there ever since.” She chuckled a little as she looked into her drink and took a few sips. “I’m just your average small town gal, really.”

“I’m from Vanhoover myself, though whenever the Games come around I have to live a bit of everywhere,” Harshwhinny explained before a few big gulps of mead. “It’s quite a different experience helping run the games, I’ll admit.”

“What do you mean?” Cheerilee asked with a tilt of her head.

“You mean you don’t know?” Harshwhinny asked back with both eyebrows arced.

“I can’t say that I do,” said a completely lost Cheerilee.

“Well, I suppose it has been a while. Most ponies have probably forgotten,” Harshwhinny chuckled, a little ring of relief and disappointment to the sound. “I used to compete in the Equestria Games. I was quite the athlete when I was younger.”

“I was wondering why your body looks so toned,” Cheerilee blurted out. After she realized what she just said, her ears flattened and cheeks turned pink. “I mean, um…!”

Harshwhinny giggled through another mouthful of mead before downing it. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Good to know I’m still keeping in good shape.”

“Good to know I can still make a fool of myself,” Cheerilee groaned, face meeting hoof.

“Oh hush, it wasn’t anything to beat yourself up over. Ponies often say I’m older than I look, so my physique does look a tad on the odd side,” Harshwhinny assured.

Cheerilee shook her head a little and smiled. “Still, sorry. Sometimes I don’t really think about what I’m saying. It’s like I forget whether I’m thinking something in my head or saying it out loud.”

“Rather endearing, if you ask me. Means you have nothing to hide,” Harshwhinny smiled, taking another few gulps of her drink until it was dry. “Miss Beryl, a refill, if you’d please!”

“Coming right up!” the bartender said, taking her glass away.

In the meantime, Cheerilee’s blush had spread to her ears. She took a few gulps of her wine before asking, “So, what did you compete in? In the Equestria Games, I mean.”

“Gymnastics,” Harshwhinny answered with a wistful smile. “I was fleet of hoof and flexible of everything else. Brought home the gold that year, and even before and after that I was bringing home trophies left and right for lesser competitions.” She cocked her hips a little to show off her cutie mark, giving it a little pat as she got her second drink. “This is a quite common sight in my house.”

Cheerilee averted her eyes, feeling like her head was about to pop, and lost herself in another sip of wine. “So, um, when’d you retire?”

Harshwhinny’s triumphant smile took a sad, almost bitter turn. “Eight years ago. When I became pregnant with my son. It was after a wild night of partying, and… well. Let’s just say a haze of booze has kept me from ever remembering who the father is.” She looked down at her drink in thought before downing half of it in one go.

“Oh… oh, Harshwhinny, I had no idea. I’m so, so sorry for digging that up,” Cheerilee apologized, ears flat and head low. “I didn’t think that… I’m sorry.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” Harshwhinny half-heartedly shrugged off. “Go ahead and ask.”

"Ask… what?” Cheerilee asked, blankly staring.

“Why I chose to keep the baby instead of continue my promising career,” Harshwhinny sighed as if she were a foal reciting an assignment they loathed. “I get asked that all the time.”

“I assumed it was because you thought it was already time to retire,” Cheerilee admitted, cocking an eyebrow.

Harshwhinny scoffed, taking another few gulps. “I was only twenty-one, Cheerilee. My career had barely started.”

Even as the haze of the wine had started creeping in her brain, Cheerilee could still do basic math. “Wait… so that means you’re only-”

“Twenty-nine, yes,” Harshwhinny finished wearily. She rubbed her temples and closed her eyes, the career mare gone and the rundown mare sitting in front of Cheerilee. “Not even thirty, and I look like my mane is about to turn grey any second. The constant stress of my job, my son, my life… it’s made me old before my time. No amount of any cosmetic cream will ever get rid of these bags under my eyes.”

Cheerilee slumped, both mind and mouth struggling to form words like one of her students put on the spot when they weren’t prepared, while Harshwhinny finished her second drink. In the end, all she could think of was to pull Harshwhinny into a one-foreleg hug, letting the older mare lean on her. “I’m so sorry… I had no idea you had to put up with so much.”

“It’s fine,” she lied rather badly, pushing her empty glass away and letting out a little hiccup. “It’s fine.”

“Doesn’t sound like it is,” Cheerilee said gently, rubbing Harshwhinny’s shoulder.

“It… it isn’t,” Harshwhinny admitted with a sigh. “I worry so much about my son. Thanks to the Games, I’ve had to spend the last few weeks away from him, and I already felt like we were so distant. He’s a rebellious little boy, and he’s not even going to be nine until next month. I worry that he’s going to get into deeper trouble when he gets older because he has no nurturing influence in his life, but being strict is the only way I know how to parent.”

“And there’s nothing wrong with that; children need a strict influence of some sort to keep them from going down a bad path,” Cheerilee assured.

“I know, I know, but… but I’m so scared he’ll make some of the same mistakes I did,” she mumbled. “I feel like I need to find a stallion to date that can get through to him… or a mare, to be honest. But everybody I’ve tried is either not right for me, or not right for him.”

Cheerilee felt her heart leap a little bit, but under the weight of what she was hearing it didn’t get very far. “I’m sure you’ll find someone, Harshwhinny,” Cheerilee comforted. “You’ve worked so hard to get so far, and you’ve done so well. You’re one of the top officials in the Equestria Games, for Celestia’s sake! Very few ponies get that honor. You deserve some relief for all that effort.”

Harshwhinny smiled a little and nuzzled her cheek against Cheerilee’s. The older mare was blushing, though she couldn’t tell if it was natural or from the mead. “I haven’t heard that one before… but I think I needed to. Thank you, Cheerilee.”

“It’s no problem at all. You get good at pep talks when you work with school foals; they all have their down days and their personal problems,” she said, smiling back.

“I can only imagine,” Harshwhinny chuckled. “They’re lucky to have a teacher like you.”

“I try,” Cheerilee said with a nervous giggle. “I sometimes worry that I’m not good enough, to be honest. I’m a huge part of how well they’ll do when they’re adults, and that’s… kind of daunting.”

“I can relate. The Games only come every now and then, but I know that I’m a big part in making dreams come true, or dashing them,” Harshwhinny explained. “And every pony that had their dreams crushed thanks to my judging… it hurts. It’s one of the many things I worry about.”

“I hope I’m not overstepping my bounds, but… it sounds like we might both have a lot of weight on our shoulders,” Cheerilee said softly.

“You’re not; I think it’s rather astute of you,” Harshwhinny smiled, gently resting her hoof on Cheerilee’s.

It was all she could do to keep from grinning ear to ear. Thankfully, or not, a distraction came by in the form of a crystal pony mare, purples as amethyst and smelling of vodka, sauntering up to the two and plopping her rump next to Cheerilee.

“Why helloooo there, little Miss Raspberry Flanks,” the crystal mare giggled drunkenly, flipping her short orange mane.

Cheerilee froze up and turned to the stranger. “E-excuse me?”

“You heard me, cutie. Had my eye on you for a minute and unf, you’ve got nice, soft curves,” the crystal mare said with a lascivious smile. “Why don’t you say you and me go back to my place?”

“Pardon, but she was talking to me,” Harshwhinny chimed in, an unamused frown on her face.

“If you wanna join in, I wouldn’t mind, sugar,” she giggled, “but I don’t see you making a move on her.”

“Excuse me, but how do you even know I’m not straight?” Cheerilee asked. “I mean, I’m bisexual, but how would you know that?”

The stranger blinked and stared at her blankly. “Why else would you be at the Canyon?”

“I’m not sure I follow,” Cheerilee said.

“This is a filly fooler bar; you knew that, right?” the crystal mare answered.

Realization hit the both of them like a crashing Rainbow Dash, their pupils going small and faces turning the same shade of cherry red.

“Oh leave them alone, Prasi; these two came in together and I doubt they wanna be bothered,” Beryl chided from across the counter.

“I was just askin’; I didn’t know,” the stranger, apparently named Prasi, defended. Beryl gave her a stern look and she added, “Fine, fine, I’ll leave ‘em be now. Offer’s still open, though, Miss Raspberry Flanks.” With another drunken giggle, the mare stumbled away, and Beryl turned back to another customer with a weary sigh.

Cheerilee and Harshwhinny turned to each other to find their faces frozen in the same expression of dumbstruck surprise.

“I swear I had no idea,” Cheerilee said hastily, less breaking the ice and more falling rump first down on it.

“I-I believe you,” Harshwhinny assured, taking a deep breath to collect herself. “I should’ve expected as much when you said Rainbow Dash recommended it. What exactly did you tell her?”

“That I was going to take you out for a drink to make up for earlier.” Cheerilee facehoofed and groaned. “She either thought we were actually going on a date, or she’s laughing her flanks off right now.”

“Hard to tell with Miss Dash.” Harshwhinny nervously cleared her throat and added, “You know… you did say that I need some relief. I think we both need some, really, and I don’t think the two of us being responsible adults would help with that…”

Cheerilee blinked.

Cheerilee blinked again.

She then turned to Beryl, hoof raised to get her attention, and shouted, “Best whiskey you’ve got, on the double!”