We stayed there for a short while. He told me his name is Noguki, but to call him Noh, his sister was Kabuki. I like those names a lot. He told me a lot about his family, his foreign father, their love of theater. I thought briefly of Lavandula, when he mentioned his father. What are the odds, right? I pushed the thought away quickly.

I told him about my family, the number of brothers I had, my dream of writing. He didn’t ask any questions, though. And he always seemed to creep into another topic like he was walking on thin ice. I would have to remember to thank him for that. Even when I mentioned my dad, I trailed off. He caught on instantly and changed the subject. I’d have to thank him in earnest if I ever got the chance.

He did bring up one topic that upset me. He mentioned a gay stallion he knew from college. I admire his courage, he must have guessed it was safe to explore more dangerous cans of worms. I still had to stop him.

I thanked him for spending time with me, and basically diffusing my time-bomb brain. He was nice about it, but the best part came as we were walking back down to the stage. He walked in step with me, close to my side. Then he said, “You know, if it’s all right with you, I would like to know more about your dad.” I was a tad stunned. I didn’t respond right away so he continued, “If you don’t want to I totally understand.”

“No,” I tell him. “I’d be happy to tell you more. Just…”

“I get it, you need a little time.” I nod. “What do you say, sometime next week? Let’s get together for lunch or something, yeah?”

I brighten up immediately. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

“Awesome.”

“And I know a great place. A café I work at, uhh, Café de la Lune. It’s on West One-Eleventh.”

“Sounds perfect,” he smiles. I smile back. “Monday sound good?”

“I get off at noon.”

“See you then.”

We bump hooves in agreement. Then Curtain Call shouts out to me. “Is everything ok?” I rub my neck, a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry if I was making anything worse. Umm… why don’t you take the rest of the night off?”

“Oh, that’s all right,” I try to convince him. “I’m really feeling fine now. What scene are we on?”

My attempt to dodge the topic failed. “Timber,” Call says softly, placing a hoof on my shoulder, “I know how hard it can be. Take some time for yourself.”

I almost laugh, thinking how Pearl told me almost that exact same thing today. “I guess a day off won’t hurt.”

“Yeah,” Noh elbows me playfully, “and I’ll walk you home.”

Then I panic. Maintaining the smile I attempt to turn him down, “Please don’t do that for me.”

“Oh, okay,” he sighs. “Then I’ll do it for me.” I want to protest, but he’s going to try to guilt trip me and I don’t have the energy for that. He’ll think it’s all in good fun, for the greater good, but I won’t see it that way. Why doesn’t he understand that, of all things? I was really starting to like him, too.

I grumble out an “Ok,” trying not to sound ungrateful. His face changes, but he follows through with his promise. We gather our belongings and leave the theater together.

I really like his trilby; navy blue with a black strap. It looks a little tacky, but he wears it back on his head. With his mane down, partially covering his face. It also matched his watery-blue coat, and star patterned saddle bags. If only he was wearing a scarf, he’d look so sophisticated. Or perhaps he’d just look more gaudy.

We walk in silence for most of the way. He does talk a bit about other plays he’s done, even sings a few songs from some. He has a lovely voice. I’m just happy to forget about his little act of deceit back at the playhouse.

Thinking about the playhouse I suddenly feel I have to ask, “Do you think they’ll have trouble without us?”

“I doubt it,” he answers quickly. “My understudy can cover for me until I get back.” Suddenly I feel hurt, when he said “get back.” I mean, he never implied he’d stay with me, so why do I feel betrayed that he’s leaving?

“Right,” I respond. “Plus, it’s not like I’m super important around there.”

“Oh come on,” he nudges me as we walk. I lose balance for a moment, but right myself easily. “You’re just as important as anyone there.”

“Not really,” I should stop myself. “I just run errands and place props.”

“And do you know how important those props are for everybody on stage?”

“Sure, but I could be replaced in half a day.” Why don’t I just stop?

“So could I! You do know what an understudy is, right?”

“Well sure, but that’s for like, emergencies.”

“And you leaving would be just as big of an emergency. The only difference is there’s no one waiting at the stage for you to actually break a leg to take your place.”

“That’s a little dark.” It’s funny though, I’m grinning.

“It’s fact. I actually feel sorry for Hearthstone. Because, what if he never gets his chance to fill in for me? That’s his role! His only chance!”

“Well, give it to him,” I offer. “Break it up, half and half.”

“Actually we do. Most understudies do trade days with the lead actors. Feels more fair, y’know? Haven’t you noticed?”

I blush sheepishly. “To be honest I thought all actors were really selfish and stuck-up.”

“I get that,” he says. “The school I went to? Everypony had high dreams of being the star, having their name on billboards and in windows. They were all there to be better than the rest. I think four of us just loved theater.”

I smile, and let the sound fade back into the bustle of the city night. Then another question comes to mind, one I wasn’t immediately sure I’d feel comfortable asking him. I did anyway, “Do you think I’d be a good actor?”

He raises and eyebrow at me, stops to look at me, then smiles. “I think so,” he nods. “Definitely.” We resume walking.

“You can be honest with me you know,” I flirt. It’s my turn to be a little deceptive.

“I am! You’ve got great potential, really. You might have an issue with your glasses, but once you’re on the stage it won’t matter.”

“My glasses?” How could that be?

“Yeah. There are lots of stage lights, as you know. With so many, and in so many positions, glass lenses can be reflective and distracting to the audience. That’s one reason we don’t use glass in set pieces, too.”

I smirk, “That, and it’d be a mess to clean up if anything went wrong.”

“Oh definitely,” he gives an exaggerated groan. “And dancing over broken glass? Would not recommend.”

“Are you speaking from experience?” I tease.

“Well, no,” he admits. “But can you imagine?”

“I haven’t danced on stage since high school. And never used glass then, either.”

“Well, now you know why.” We both smile, looking at each other. I notice he’s got freckles across his muzzle. They almost looked like stars, but the blue fur was a few shades too bright. I wonder how I hadn’t seen them before. Had I not looked at him this closely before? Then I realize how closely I’m looking at him. He has this smile…

I look away quickly, my cheeks burning hot as a campfire. He’s still looking I can feel it.

“You know,” he says quietly. “You’ve got a good body for the stage.”

I’ve gone from campfire to grease fire. Stop! Do I want him to stop?

“A very unique, attractive face.” Bonfire. “A good physique for dancing.” I feel as hot as the sun, and I’m sure I’m as red as a pony with sunburn. “Are you okay?”

My eyes go wide. “Wha…? No! Are you serious?”

“Maybe? I was just complimenting you.”

“Yeah but… Ugh, did you have to be so flirty?”

“I’m… sorry? I wasn’t trying to be.” I’m speechless. I don’t know what he was implying, but it riled me up and I’m not okay with that. “Look, no offense, but I’m not… interested.” He looks away, embarrassed. “I just… I’ve been in this business for a while, and you asked about being an actor. I’m only telling you things ponies told me. Though, according to you, obviously. They never really thought I met some ‘requirements’ for dancing, or whatever.” I’m still quietly processing. I think I understand, but I don’t know how to respond. “I’m sorry if you got the wrong idea, but…” But what? “You’re really just a friend.”

I take a deep breath. Something snaps inside me, and I laugh a little. It’s quiet, but lasts a while. When he starts laughing nervously along with me I think I ought to explain why I’m laughing. “Cool,” I play, “I’m friends with a famous actor.” He’s quiet for a second. Then he smiles, followed by real laughter, loud and raucous. I laugh harder just from listening. I know ponies are looking, staring confusedly. I don’t care.

When we finally calm down, he’s wiping a tear from his eye. I straighten my glasses and sigh. He touches my shoulder, I look at him. “Thank you,” he says.

I keep smiling. I want to hug him.

He hugs me, and I feel so relieved. “Thank you, too.”

Author's Notes:

In which I show off what a weeaboo I am by coming up with two Japanese names.