Lucien trudged through the muck of the swamp, exhausted from his fight with the dragon. The dragon he decided to call Steve. He didn't blame Steve for attacking and nearly killing him. He was the one who disturbed his sleep after all.

But now he's paying for it. His legs ached, his mouth was dry, and his mana reserves were dangerously low. At least he had gotten what he wanted out of it; one vial of blood from a very old dragon.

The busy hour of Dodge Junction was slowly coming to an end. The sun was setting in the west, just as it always does. Ponies were taking care of their last bits of business in the day. Shops were closing, and the bar in the middle of the small township was getting livelier.

As the sun gave way to the moon, the final ponies cleared off the dirt roads, bound for either their houses or the saloon. The building gave off a cheery air. One that promised good friends and good times. The light from its windows bathed the roads in golden candlelight. A player piano was making its sounds known, and laughter could be heard from outside.

Of course, Lucien took note of none of these wonderful things.

At this point, he was desensitized to just about everything around him. The only thing that registered in his worn-out mind was his need to find a meal and a place to sleep.

He looked up to the sign that hung above his head. 'SALOON,' was what it read. That clicked in his mind. "Didn't saloons offer rooms for rent? Like bed and breakfast type places? Worth a shot."

Lucien raised his arms and pushed open the double doors in a very cliched fashion. Also in a cliched fashion was the crowd's reaction to his entry. Just as he had expected, the music stopped playing on a sour note (even though it was a player piano), the crowd of ponies inside gasped, and the sound of a glass mug hitting the floor could be heard, and the bartender did not react in any way.

His mind was still awake enough to permit him to let loose a loud snort at the typical reaction. "I didn't just walk into an old western movie, did I?" he thought sarcastically while walking up the the bar. Predictably, there was only one seat open, and he took it. The occupants of the building kept on staring.

The bartender's glance lingered a bit longer that it had when Lucien first walked in. He was a middle-aged, mustachio'd pony that looked like he knew his way around a bar. He had a grey coat, and was, oddly enough, an earth pony. His ears stood attention and his forelegs were resting on the counter, the hooves themselves cleaning out a mug.

Lucien looked him right in the eye and said, "One alcohol please," then his face slammed down into the counter. He wasn't drunk yet, but half the bar probably thought he was.

He heard the bartender take his forelegs off the counter and stand up fully. The glass he was holding clinked against another and the sounds of a liquid pouring could be heard. The rest of the place was still quiet. Too quiet.

Lucien sat up straight and whirled around in his seat, hands taking a defensive position, ready to protect himself from -- nothing. Nopony had moved from any of their seats, making Lucien look like an idiot, or someone who was just really, really paranoid. He, of course, was neither of these things, but the ponies didn't know that.

Lucien heard someone clearing their voice, and he whirled around again to see the bartender holding out a medium-sized glass filled to the brim with a clear liquid. Lucien reached forward slowly, then grabbed hold of the cup. Then, in one swift motion, put it up to his lips and chugged it down.

Surprisingly, his throat didn't start burning, and his eyes didn't water a bit. In shock, he looked back at the now empty glass. "Either the vodka here is extremely impotent, or that was just water."

He looked up at the bartender, who in turn looked at a sink to his left that Lucien had failed to notice. Water was still dripping from its faucet. "Oh. Maybe he though I couldn't use a drink. Maybe he's right."

But for the moment, he had had enough of the deathly silence in the room around him. "Oh, come on!" his fist slammed into the table and he turned to face the room. "If my idea of what a western movie is about is correct, then there is no way that I'm the strangest thing you've all ever seen walk through those doors!"

The room was silent again for a moment.

Then the calm was broken by the sounds of ponies shrugging and getting back to what they were doing five minutes ago, before Lucien walked into the saloon.

"That's a bit more like it." Lucien said while turning to face the bartender.

"Lemme tell ya somethin', yah don' need another drink." the bartender said to him in a heavy western accent.

"Oh, you think--" Lucien's sentence was interrupted by a short laugh. "You think that I've been drinking already?" he asked jovially.

The bartender eyed him suspiciously. "Weel, yah do seem a bit on the tipsy side, but what do Ah know? Ah've just been bartendin' for the better part of twelve years."

"Then you should know that if I've been drinking, I wouldn't be having this conversation with you; and as a matter of fact, I haven't had a single drink in three years." Lucien pointed out.

The grey pony's eyes narrowed, and he paused in his actions of bar tending. "Ya have a point there."

"Of course, now," Lucien started, "I came in here assuming you, the bartender, would be able to get me a drink, and that you would probably know where I could get a meal and a bed." he stated.

The pony chuckled. "That's a lot of assumin' that yah've just done, but yes, I do know where yah can get a bed and some supper."

Lucien sighed. "That's great. If you could point me out to the food first it'd be a great help."

The bartender smirked and lifted up a bowl of salad from underneath the counter. He placed it in front of Lucien, then grabbed a fork from the same spot with his other hoof. He then proceeded to point to the food he had just placed down. "There's your food."

Lucien didn't respond, he just grabbed the fork and proceeded to dig in.

The pony didn't wait for him to finish to give the next piece of information. "We also rent rooms out here. I'll just go git the key and put it all on your tab, mister . . .?"

Lucien paused in his ravenous fury. "Put me down as Lucien."

He awoke the next morning feeling extremely refreshed. He sat up in the relatively small bed that he had been set up in. The room he was in felt cramped. He stood and hit his head on the ceiling. *Thump* "Ouch."

He turned his head to look at the tiny washroom to his left. He started to walk in, but his foot caught on something, causing him to stumble and hit his head again on the top of the doorframe. *Thump* "Ouch."

There was a minuscule sink attached low on the wall, next to a toilet. He turned the sink on and splashed some water on his face. He turned back around and walked out of the washroom, but not before bumping his head again on the frame. *Thump* "Ouch."

He spun around and flopped down on the bed. He sat there for a few minutes before deciding that it was time for him to get up and head back home. He got up and opened the door to the hallway. *Thump* "WHY IS EVERYTHING HERE SO SMALL?!"

Author's Notes:

Wow.

Has it really been two weeks since my last upload? I thought that it wasn't that bad. Next time the upload will come faster and it's gonna be a lot longer.

Excuse: Busy two weeks.

'Til the next chapter,
~Sandcroft