“Alright, if nopony has any more questions…”

It had taken nearly three hours, but the meeting of the Royal Canterlot Orchestra finally wound down. As she was only participating as a member of the advisory team, Octavia hadn’t much to say, and was left tapping her hooves as the coordinators quibbled over seating and schedules. Half an hour alone had been spent discussing the new ‘sound system’, the technician ponies trying to explain how the Humans’ various acoustic apparatus had to be positioned, requiring space to be allotted.

Stretching as she rose from her seat, Octavia navigated through the egressing ponies toward the coffee table, only to see a familiar stallion already pouring himself a cup.

“Hello, Noteworthy,” she greeted with an awkward smile; the two were close, though a failed romance from years long gone had left an uncomfortable air between them. “It’s been a while. How are you?”

“Octavia? Oh, well, you know — this whole concert business has had me all tied up. My ensemble and I have been practicing every day, and I have to fill out reports to the coordinators… they’re really overcomplicating this whole process. I barely have time to get dressed in the morning, do my makeup, and get the foals ready for school, before I have to catch a cart down to the campus. ”

Octavia, used to conversing with her male colleague, stood quietly and sipped her coffee as Noteworthy went on about how getting ready for the event was taking all his time and moving into a detailed tangent on how poorly his mares were looking after their home in his stead. She was just imagining how nice it would be to get home to work on her compositions when she realized she had lost track of the (rather one-sided) conversation.

“...and that’s why I think this whole thing is pointless. What do the Humans care if we like their music? The Royals are just trying to get us to play nice with them so they can get their trade deals. Have you read the Treaty? Utterly ridiculous, some of the things they’re demanding. This has nothing to do with ‘sharing our cultures’.”

She zoned back in when Note had been talking about the Humans. Her mind turned to Anon, probably still sound asleep on her couch, dreaming of hunting, or spaceships, or whatever Humans dreamt of (she would have to ask him later). The mental image brought her a ripple of happiness — the suggestion that he was just here to strengthen political bonds felt like a personal slight, though she couldn’t quite understand why. Anon was just somepony in need that she lent her home to… and was planning to seduce soon.

She swallowed the sting of shame from her plot with Vinyl. Now was not the time to consider the moral ramifications of roping Anon into her bed.

“I… I’m not really that interested in politics,” she lied. It was easier to feign ignorance than to press the issue. Stallions didn’t often pontificate on dry, political matters, but when they did, it was best to give them the last word. “I am looking forward to hearing their orchestra, though. It’ll be so nice to finally be able to hear their music instead of just reading it.”

Anything Human was the current vogue, but since the powers-that-be seemed to make it their prerogative to keep a tight grip on what alien items made it into public circulation, that fashion usually amounted to clothing style and certain alien words being adopted into academic jargon.

For her part, Octavia had intended to look into the Human sheet music that had been made available out of her own curiosity, but the need to work always took priority for her — why spend five hours practicing a piece for the fun of it, when the same work could bring in some money? Either way, she would be getting a taste of what the Humans considered good music soon enough.

“Hmm? Oh, yes, I’m sure the concert itself will be grand. I’m bringing my whole herd. Hopefully, it will give my foals an appreciation for the arts that their mothers seem to lack… So, who are you inviting? Are you still living with that unicorn disc jockey?” he said, with barely-disguised note of disdain on mention of her roommate. Few ponies in Octavia’s circle of work had any love for modern, magically-synthesized music. The fact that she spent her time with an artist of said music was most often met with questioning looks.

Honestly, Octavia had forgotten that she had free admission for herself and one other. Vinyl certainly wouldn’t be thrilled about being dragged along. Other than her, everyone else Octavia knew either lived too far out of town, or already had their own ticket.

But with Anon in the picture…

As the final note rings, a standing ovation shakes the concert hall. Anon, eyes damp with tears, clings to her foreleg. Reveling in the bliss of musical perfection, they lock eyes. After a moment of taking in his alien beauty, they come together, locking lips in a display of passion. The audience is now cheering for her, looks of jealousy from mares and adoration from stallions, as she takes Anon away to her home. He collapses on her, a spark of wild hunger in his eyes as his layers of clothing are stripped away. Vinyl is there, nuzzling his face comfortingly as he spreads his long, thick legs with her positioning herself between them. Ready to claim his erect stallionhood, she-

“Octavia, are you okay? You’re zoning out a lot.” Her eyes refocused as she realized she had gotten lost in her imaginings.

“Oh, my apologies. I-I just have a lot of work on my plate right now, and sleep is hard to come by. And yes, I’m still roommates with Vinyl.”

Octavia excused herself, Noteworthy giving her a look of understanding, and she set off for home.

Pewter Polish trotted through the fancy, carpeted halls of the hotel, his worry rapidly precipitating into panic. He feverishly knocked on the door of every room, though most were answered by a Human, none were the Human he sought.

“Oh, Anon, where are you?” he whimpered through his grimace.

Pewter had first become aware of his partner’s absence after the previous night’s tour of the city had concluded. He had noticed that Anon was no longer with them upon the group’s return to the hotel, but didn’t worry at the time, as half of the dozen or so Human-pony pairs in the group had split off during the excursion to go visit some pubs in the city. Knowing the Humans’ love of liquor, he had figured Anon had just joined up with them. However, when he had failed to materialize by morning, and none of the other Humans recalled seeing him, Pewter grew concerned.

I can’t believe I lost him! How the buck does somepony lose a giant alien in the middle of the city? As Anon’s Cultural Exchange Program partner, it was Pewter’s job to be his guide and host, to ‘facilitate mutual learning and appreciation for other ways of life’, as his professor put it.

Having checked every room on the floor, Pewter Polish found himself in the lounge area of their floor. With a defeated sigh, he plopped down on a couch, contemplating how he would break the news to the group leader.

“Hey there, Polly. How’s it going?”

Pewter looked up at the unexpected voice, seeing a Human female whom he recognized from their group approaching. Jane Doe was her name, if he remembered correctly.

“Oh. Hello, Ms. Doe. I was just… um…”

“Looking for Anon?” she finished with a smirk.

“H-How did you know? Do you know where he is? I haven’t seen him since the tour, and I’ve looked everywhere, but nopony’s seen him, and it’s my responsibility to look after him! What if he’s hurt? It’s not safe to be out alone at night… what if a gang found him and-”

“Hey, hey, don’t worry. I’m sure he’s fine.” She patted Pewter’s head. He tried to take comfort in the odd Human gesture, but he was just too distressed; if something happened to Anon, he could never forgive himself. “Anon’s smart enough not to end up face down, dead in a ditch somewhere. Probably.”

He tried not to shudder at the thought. Despite having become somewhat accustomed to the Humans’ love of the macabre over his three months of participating in the exchange program, it was still jarring to have such dark statements brought up casually, one aspect of Human culture that did not thrill him.

The head pats, on the other hoof, had managed to bring him down from the threshold of panic to something approaching calm. The way she brought her hand down, careful to not tousle his hair, running her painted claws around his ears and down his neck fur left a pleasant tingling in their wake. A few more minutes, and he thought he might even fall asleep right there on her lap.

If he considered it, he would find it odd that he was as comfortable as he was with her touching him like this. He certainly would never let a pony mare that he only knew casually to be so intimate with him, for fear of their ulterior motives, and social stigma in general. Maybe if the mare were gay…

But with Jane and the other Humans, he felt perfectly at ease accepting their headpats and scritchies. Something about their demeanour made the act less intrusive, and more kind-hearted, as if she truly had no interest in taking advantage of him. Also, he would be lying if he said he didn’t get a bit of a thrill every time mares saw him cozied up to the alien female and tried to hide their jealous glares.

That’s right, keep walking, ponyfili.

Pewter was just beginning to doze off when Human hoofsteps could be heard.

“Hello there, Polly, Jane. Funny story about last night…”

“A-Anon? I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Are you alright?” Scrambling off the couch and to Anon, he felt a wave of relief wash over him for having found his partner, though he was quite worried about what caused his twelve hour absence. Rearing up on his hind legs, he did his best to emulate a Human hug, wrapping his forelegs around Anon’s thighs.

“Well, long story short, I split off from the group to find a washroom, and couldn’t find my way back. I found a couple nice mares who let me sleep on their couch.”

He stayed with two random mares he found on the street? Pewter was about to voice his concern for his friend being taken advantage of, but Jane cut him off.

The two Humans began chattering back and forth rapidly in their own tongue. While his understanding of the Humans’ language was growing rapidly, especially with Anon’s help, he was still unable to keep up with their flow of speech. What he could understand seemed to be laden with idioms and euphemism, such that he could not parse it.

However, he could tell that Jane was gleefully mocking Anon in some way, likely about his little outing. He thought it rude of her to make fun of a stallion for being in a potentially dangerous situation, but to his surprise, Anon seemed to pay it no mind, even play along with faux indignation.

Pewter concluded that his friend had suffered no harm, he resigned to listen to the two larger creatures converse, while they began heading back to their rooms. He watched as Jane paused, as if remembering something, then pulling out a little black rectangle about the size of a postage envelope. Apparently, the rectangle pleased Anon somehow, as his face lit up like a Hearth’s Warming display.

It never ceased to amaze Pewter how alien the Humans were, and not simply in their biology — though the way that Human mares kept their… pride on display front and centre had him constantly blushing. The manner in which Jane and Anon interacted, with what could be described as comradery between them, he simply couldn’t imagine a pony mare and stallion behaving similarly; as equals, as friends without the influence of sex whispering in their ears. He would admit that he was jealous of the Humans’ coveted freedom that they enjoyed, so unlike the strictly defined roles that ponies were expected to fill. But it also made him hopeful that, with their help, the equality of mares and stallions could be seen in his lifetime.

“Oh, by the way, Polly…” Pewter put a pause on his grand imaginings as Anon looked down to him. “You know the restaurant I had booked for us? I invited those mares to come along as a ‘thank you’ for giving me a place to stay. Vinyl Scratch and Octavia Melody are their names.”

He resisted showing his disappointment; that dinner trip had been meant for just the two of them, Anon saying he had some good news that called for a celebration, and he had been looking forward to an opportunity to bond privately. Now, he’d have to put up with a couple mares who would probably try to hit on them and force the conversation toward ‘mare things’, like sports or…

“Uh, Anon? What date was your reservation for, again?”

“The first of next month. Why?”

“...No reason.”

Pewter shuddered. The start of Estrus.

After returning home from the orchestra meeting, Octavia was saddened to find that Anon had already left, though she had expected it. After all, what reason would he have to stay? However, a bedraggled Vinyl informed her that before he left, he had invited them to dinner as thanks for helping him, and to a rather big-ticket restaurant, no less.

This reignited her hopes of perhaps coming closer to him, but brought with it more concerns; did he feel the same way? Was his invitation an attempt on his part to start a relationship, or was it truly just a friendly thanks? How do Humans even express romantic interest in each other? Ritual combat, perhaps?

Vinyl was no help in alleviating these worries, as she had fallen back asleep immediately after relaying the news.

Now, Octavia sat in her room at her desk, scratching some perfunctory melodies onto paper, in the hopes of finding something to use in one of her overdue commissions, but her mind lay elsewhere (a condition becoming worrying common, to the chagrin of her commissioners). She increasingly considered finding a permanent matron to sponsor her work, but the idea of having to dedicate the majority of her time to a single pony’s whims never appealed to her.

But today, it was Anon consuming her concentration.

Only yesterday had she met him, but already the stallion was beginning to occupy her thoughts. Vinyl’s plan to court him was frankly ridiculous, she knew. Vinyl was never one to read the news or keep up with the current events, unlike her roommate. It was clear the Humans considered Equus to be little more than a curiosity, more concerned with their lofty dealings in the heavens (though Octavia still struggled to grasp how that worked). The Humans that did find their way to Equestria were usually lesser diplomats practicing their profession, or students of the sciences and their strange fascination with even the mundanities of magic.

And occasionally, there were rumours of ponies who had supposedly seduced a Human, usually in the form of a drunken mare boasting to anypony who would listen. The only time she had ever heard of somepony being in an actual, proper relationship with a Human was speculatory gossip about the princesses.

All in all, Octavia just didn’t think it was reasonable to assume that Anonymous could be happy to settle for a couple of boring, common ponies. Well… herself, at least.

Vinyl, on the other hoof, was a mare that could keep a stallion coming back for more. Despite her borderline chauvinism (or perhaps because of it), the unicorn still somehow managed to pick up a colt every once in a while. She could be quite charismatic when she wanted to be, and her music, though far from a gravy train, was much more popular with young, attractive colts than Octavia’s own.

Octavia knew she wasn’t very exciting. She knew she wasn’t a handsome mare, with no muscle or magnetism to speak of. Her mane and coat were completely devoid of any colour, a greyscale smudge that no stallion would ever look twice at.

Yet here she was, already plotting how to talk Anon into her bed. It made her feel dirty, ashamed. Like she was trying to steal him, and undeservedly keep him for herself. By Celestia, she couldn’t even keep a pony stallion satisfied for more than a few months! What was she supposed to offer a being from beyond the stars?

Octavia sighed and turned away from her page of musical dead-ends and disappointments to take a shower and hopefully come out with a clean head.

As she crossed through the apartment’s den to get to the bathroom, she noted that the dead had risen; Vinyl was awake, if only just, eyes squinted and mane frazzled as she scowled at a cup of coffee. Octavia knew better than to disturb the sleep-deprived mare and continued past her — irregular work hours were driving that mare to an early grave.

Once in the shower, warm water flowing through her fur, she lathered up and began brushing her mane, the bristles running down her mane and tickling her scalp.

His hand seized her by the withers, running his sharp fingers up her body and into her mane.

Octavia shivered. The specter of Anon’s touch still lingered on her body, warm patches noticeable even under the heat of the shower. The warmth gradually grew in time to pulse of her heart, oozing down her length toward her nethers.

Adrenaline coursed through her veins from the arousal setting in. She told herself herself it was just Estrus clouding her judgement, as she imagined smiling up at her while he nuzzled her chest tuft. It was natural for a mare to imagine colts planting kisses down her barrel, before submissively suckling on her nipples. So what if he outclassed her completely, and would probably laugh her out of Equestria if she asked him out? In the privacy of her own bathroom, she was safe to pretend an alien stallion was gently gliding his tongue up her slit, kissing her winking clit, and whispering in his sultry, masculine voice how she was his now, and no other pony could have her.

Vinyl focused on the tones produced by her headphones, trying to drown out the sound of her roommate jamming her clam in the shower. Octavia may have been able to put on the act of an upstanding and proper lady in public, but had all the sexual discretion of a pubescent filly.

She was about to march over there and yell something sarcastic through the door, but then she heard something. Just barely, over the sound of the shower and furious masturbation, she swore she heard Octavia moan Anon’s name.

Laughing to herself, Vinyl was making a mental note to tease her roommate over this later, when the significance of the action caught up to her.

The last time they had attempted to properly court a stallion at Vinyl’s insistence, it had not gone well. He had left due to being ‘dissatisfied with their financial situation’, to put it charitably, and had broken Octavia in the process. She assured Vinyl the she didn’t blame anypony, but ever since had refused to discuss trying again, no matter how much Vinyl tried to prove that he was just a fluke by bringing home colts from clubs.

In light of all that, Vinyl realized how significant Anon was. If Octavia was finally coming out of her shell for him, then it was Vinyl’s duty to make sure Anon fell head over hooves for them, lest her best friend give up on love completely.

Having need to do some shopping, Octavia was in the downtown market district. Only two days until her ‘date’, she brainstormed ways to get into Anon’s good graces. She was perusing the discounted breakfast cereals when the obvious, if unimaginative, answer hit her. A gift. But what to get him?

Jewelry was a no-go. She would either have to break the bank on something of quality, or risk appearing stingy by getting him a cheaper piece. Additionally, it could be seen as gaudy to spend so much on a stallion who they’d just met, and would set expectations higher than they could possibly fulfill.

Candies or flowers, while a safer bet, were somewhat lackluster, probably something he received on a daily basis. There was also the issue of toxicity; she realized she had little idea what food Humans could digest. If she accidentally poisoned one of the few stallions who’d even given her a chance, she’d never forgive herself.

Trotting up the bustling street, eyeing the storefronts for anything appropriate, she was about to give up hope, when she noticed something familiar. A toy shop, from which she had purchased a gift for her niece’s birthday a couple months ago. While the idea of getting a present from a foal store for a grown stallion whom she had romantic desire for was questionable at best, she recalled having seen a particular item for sale that caught her interest.

The doorbell chimed as Octavia entered the toy shop. She immediately felt the rush of nostalgic glee that one received when coming upon such a cornucopia of colourful trinkets and novelties, before the sad reality of adulthood came slithering back, reminding her that she had no use for anything in this store.

With a sigh, she approached the front counter, where the object of interest sat proudly under a glass display case — a strange contraption it was: two iron cylinders, one encircled with flared ridges, both with hinged shafts protruding out the ends connected to a large, decorated wheel of polished brass. Atop the display read a sign, ‘Vanderhoof Mechanism’.

The price tag attached made her cringe, but it was much less dear than even most budget jewelry, and she had a feeling the cost would be dwarfed by the bill for dinner later that week that she would no doubt be covering.

Noticing Octavia’s fixation on the display, the shopkeeper looked over to her from behind his counter. He was a middle-aged earth pony stallion, possessing twinkling eyes and a bright smile befitting of his occupation.

“Looking at the Vanderhoof engine, eh? Nifty little thing. Great for adults as well as foals. Just put a candle under it, and it’ll spin for ages. They use bigger versions in those factories out west. Best part, no magic! You won’t have to pay a hoof and a tail to have it sent back and have some shoddy, proprietary enchantment reapplied when it dissolves after a few months.”

When it came down to it, Octavia didn’t know what Anon would want. She could buy a luxurious, expertly arranged bouquet of flowers for the price of that thing; even if he couldn’t eat them, they would still be beautiful. All she knew was that Humans had an affinity for machines. He might be disappointed, or worse, offended by being given technology likely centuries obsolete to him. By Tartarus, for all she knew, this machine held some theological significance to Humans, and she was committing a sacrilege!

On the other hoof, she wanted, needed, to show him that she and Vinyl actually recognized and respected his uniqueness, and weren’t just trying to bed him for the sake of relieving their heat. Or perhaps she needed to convince herself of that...

“I’ll take it. Wrapped, if you would.” The shopkeeper nodded, reaching under the counter for a packaged one, then setting it on the counter. While he set about wrapping it in a lovely green foil, he hummed merrily.

“Present for your filly? I’m sure she’ll love it. It’s a great idea to get them interested in the sciences early, I say. Celestia knows we’ll need all the engineers we can get if we want to catch up with those Humans.”

“It’s for a colt, actually. Not mine.” She wanted to mention that he was a Human, and that they were having dinner together, but she shouldn’t get ahead of herself. It would be too awkward to explain anyway. Internally, she felt grim that ponies thought her old enough to be a mother.

“Oh...” The shopkeeper’s wrapping slowed and his smile faltered as he looked up to give her a quizzical look. “We do have an excellent selection of dolls, and if you really want to be his favourite, we’ve got a little magic-powered oven, perfect for learning to make pastries.”

Something inside Octavia was set aboil, and she glared at the stallion. After a moment, he shrugged and continued wrapping, explaining the store’s return policy as he went. Once topped off with a bow, she haphazardly rooted around her coin purse for bits required, nearly emptying it. With no more than a curt nod, took the parcel and set off, leaving the bemused shopkeeper.

Thinking about it, she wasn’t sure what made her so upset; all the shopkeeper did was imply that the machine wasn’t the best gift for a colt, which she, in theory, agreed with. It had sharp, metal parts and was powered by an open flame — not something she’d exactly feel safe leaving with any young foal, not to mention a poor colt that could get hurt. And she didn’t think she’d ever even met a colt who would even be interested enough in machines to play with it in the first place.

Perhaps it was due to her rather strict upbringing (something she shared in common with Vinyl), her parents dictated what toys she could play with, how she should act, and what career she would pursue. She recalled how she had once wanted to learn the harp to impress her crush, but her father shot that idea down, on the basis that it was a ‘colt’s instrument’. It had been a difficult and somewhat belittling upbringing, and though as an adult she could better appreciate her parents motives, she’d developed quite liberal beliefs regarding the raising of foals: as long as it’s not hurting anypony, they should be allowed to play with anything that they damn well please!

Of course, it was more likely that she was ruffled by somepony suggesting, even inadvertently, that Anon wouldn’t like the present, adding credence to her fear.

Misgivings aside, the bits were spent, and she still had much to do.

“...Game plan?”

Vinyl and Octavia had arrived at the reception area, and were currently tapping their hooves nervously as they waited for the host to see them into the restaurant proper.

“Well…” Octavia suppressed her growing urge to dash out the door by supplanting it with the thought of being moments away from seeing Anon again. “We want to ask him to… be with us… right?”

The unicorn nodded enthusiastically. “Right. But what exactly are we going to say? ‘Hey sugar-dick, we think you’re real hot, and would like you to clean our apartment for the rest of your life’,” she spoke in a stereotypical ‘marely-mare’ tone.

Seeing the other waiting matrons give them sideways glances at Vinyl’s indecent language, Octavia sighed. “Okay, first of all, let me do the talking. I think… we just ask him on a date?”

“Ooh, a date! What d’ya have in mind, Tavi? Front row seats to one of your recitals?” She laughed lightly.

“Something like that, yes.” Vinyl’s sarcastic grin fell.

“Oh. Well, I think you can count me out, then. You remember what happened last time. I’m still not allowed in that building.” Despite the memory of Vinyl arriving to a concert drunk and making a scene by loudly flirting with the lady-mayor of Canterlot’s son, the idea of going out with Anon all on her own filled her with apprehension.

“I… I suppose we could do something else. What do you think he’d like? There’s the zoo, the botanical garden… I think that new motion picture theater downtown is showing some Human films…” Octavia was racking her brain thinking of something appropriate for a first date with a Human; Vinyl just rolled her eyes.

“Tavi, my sis, nothing beats a good, hard bar-trot. Actually…” Vinyl’s eyes narrowed in concentrating, before springing open, wide as saucers, as if struck by some divine inspiration. This was never a good sign, in Octavia’s experience. “I know! You take him to your music thing, lay on the squishy, romantic stuff, or whatever colts like. Then, when you’ve got him all buttered up and emotional, I’ll be ready to show him the real Canterlot night scene, not whatever those college limp-cunts are feeding him!”

At that moment, the host finished conversing with his manager and approached the pair. Vinyl, mid-rant, at least had the decency to sheepishly clear her throat and return to a more appropriate posture under his look of thinly-veiled disapproval. Whether it was because of Vinyl’s little outburst or the fact that the unicorn hadn’t bothered to wear any clothes besides a tacky tie, Octavia was unsure. Her own attire she hoped was more fitting; a plain, black dress reaching just past her croup, polished copper shoes, and her favourite pink bow tie. She had tried to keep things simple, as this was not a date.

“Good evening, and welcome to Prancy’s. Do you have a reservation?”

“Well, we’re with somepony, Anonymous. He’s a-”

“Oh, you’re with the Human and his friend?” The server stallion’s eyes widened with surprise, not even having to check the guest chart tucked under his foreleg. Octavia didn’t doubt that if a Human was present in any building in Equestria, everypony would be very aware of it. Though, what was that he said about a friend?

The pair nodded, and the host had them follow him through the rather packed restaurant, mostly mares like themselves with one last shot at nabbing a mate for the Estrus holidays. Hardwood walls, velvet decor, and precious gas chandeliers all gave the strong sense that this was no two-bit diner. Octavia silently hoped that Vinyl had the sense to order as little as possible without being rude, as to keep the bill down.

I've never been good at sticking to timelines, so as much as it bothers me, updates are always going to be few and far between. The last few months I've been reorganizing my life, and mental focus is difficult to come by. But not a day goes by that I don't think about ponies and new story ideas, so I'll always be around.

As always, criticism and corrections are are appreciated.

Hotfix: Last sentence of first scene got munched.