Forever Classic

So far, it hadn't gone well.

The train thundered and jolted all around them. Mountain sides and green plateaus loomed at the windows, too big and distant to simply flash by. Filthy had hoped that the white walls and wine red carpeting, the glass chandelier, and the table lined with Canterlot cuisine would have at least assuaged Diamond Tiara's temper.

He leaned back in his recliner and glanced aside. Tiara sat with her forelegs crossed. She wasn't looking at him.

"You know why I'm doing this," he said as sternly as he could manage.

"I don't need any stupid 'attitude adjustment'," she replied, waving away a waiter who'd offered her a platter of shot glasses. "I'm not one of your mindless drone employees."

"Tiara, show a little respect for the ponies who make your living possible."

"What did I do?" she said. "I haven't got an attitude problem. I'm still getting good grades at school, aren't I?"

"Your grades are fine. It's what you get up to outside of classes."

Tiara pouted, but at least it was an improvement on earlier. She'd been whining and digging her hooves in all the way through the ticket barrier, and only his persistent nudges and mild frowns had gotten her to settle down... eventually... after she'd drawn everypony's attention on the platform.

"But I'm your precious little angel, aren't I?" she said, trying another tactic. "You know I only want to make my Daddy-waddy proud of his precious?"

"Then explain the incident with Sweetie Belle." When she opened her mouth a little too readily, he added, "Your teacher told me all about the details, so don't even try to... sugar coat it."

In the privacy of his mind, Filthy let out a sigh. He wasn't cut out for being stern. Nature had given him a temperament like a glacier, and even at the extremes, it was simply a different shade of the same tired-eyed, stoic-mouthed, quietly confident expression he always wore on his face. That sort of thing was good in the high-stakes poker game of enterprise, but not when you were trying to get your daughter to stop sulking on the chaise longue.

"Sweetie Belle's a prissy know-it-all," said Diamond Tiara. "She needed taking down a peg."

"She was correcting your spelling mistake."

"What business is it of hers if I put an 'r' or two 'rs' in 'embarrassing'? It was my work, done by my hoof. She shouldn't have been looking over my shoulder anyway."

"From what I heard from Miss Rarity, she was just trying to be friendly towards you."

"Yeah, well... well..."

Tiara humphed, her usual response when she was out of answers. Filthy sat back. A second waiter offered him a selection of exotic cheeses, but Filthy shook his head and the stallion moved on.

"Anyway," he said, turning back to his daughter, "I would have thought you'd love to visit Canterlot."

The silence had another texture to it now, and he didn't press the point. While she was in this mood, Tiara wouldn't have responded anyway.

Sometimes, he wondered if she knew about the first time he'd visited there...

The rest of the journey passed in silence.

At last, the clanking of the couplings stopped and the still engine let out a final hiss. Throwing a tip to a passing stallion servant, Filthy motioned for his daughter to follow and led her towards the sliding doors.

"How about I get you a treat while you're here. Anything on your mind?" he said.

"Maybe." Tiara paused at the carriage exit in thought.

"Tell you what. Why don't we walk through the high street, and you tell me if you see anything you like?"

She leaped down onto the platform. Diamond Tiara or not, she was still a filly and the step was a bit big for her. As she fell into step beside him, she merely hummed in acknowledgement and kept her gaze on the path ahead.

Give her time, he thought.

They came out onto a row of buildings that seemed to have been carved out of ivory. Everything was plated in gold or draped in royal purple. Curls, flower baskets, and statues lined the fronts of many outlets. Even the iron lampposts and duller bricks of the street had made an effort to look squeaky clean. Beneath the moonlight, the streetlights dazzled them and Filthy put a foreleg up to shield his eyes.

Shops boasted exotic feathers and beads, gems hung from overhangs, and dress-bearing mannequins were lined up at shop windows as though already at the fashion shows. Tiara refused to look up at first, but as they walked further along, she couldn't resist the pull the place had on her. By the time they reached the end of the row, she was stopping to stare at each display. Filthy watched her press her hooves against the window with a small smile on his lips.

"Wow," she said. "Nopony in school has a dress like that. Can you imagine what Silver Spoon would say if I went into school wearing that?"

Filthy let her talk on. Before he made another three steps, she zipped ahead and pressed her hooves against the next window. Gems shone through the window onto her face, casting little circles of colour on her fur.

"I like that hat," she said, "I like that hat a lot." Another few steps, another zip of a passing filly body, another wipe of hooves against glass. "I didn't even know you could get necklaces like that!"

He allowed himself a brief chuckle. "Why don't I just buy up the shop and have done with it?"

"You could do better than that, couldn't you Daddy?" she said, turning around. Stars gleamed in her eyes. "You could buy up the whole street and the next street along if you wanted."

"Yes, honey," he assured her. Probably not, he thought.

While she rushed on to the next display, Filthy stopped and examined the peaks of the tallest towers. Up 'til now, he'd hoped that his memory would take care of the route. Ten years is a bit long for a memory like that to last, though, he thought. And here I used to swear I'd never forget.

"Excuse me, sir," he said to a passing unicorn. "Could you direct me to Livery Luxuries?"

"Certainly, my good chap." The stallion adjusted his monocle, giving Filthy a glimpse of the unicorn's azure pupil. The stranger lifted a blue hoof to indicate the left turn, trying not to crinkle his dinner jacket as he did so. "You simply trot down Paradise Boulevard and make a right turn into Gemford Street. You can't miss it, old bean."

"Thank you kindly, sir," Filthy said. With a polite nod, the white-furred stallion turned around. Looks like I've come to the right place, Filthy thought as he watched the unicorn stride away. Tiara could learn a lot from ponies like him.

He looked over his shoulder. "Tiara, have you seen anything yet?"

By the time he got her to walk down the street with him, she was overloaded with bags full of dresses and feathers and beads and headdresses. She was already wearing one of the gowns, despite his complaints that she ought to have put it away.

"You always say it's about presentation, Daddy," was her reply. "Besides, we've got to fit in right here, haven't we?"

Fitting in? Didn't seem like it to him. Strangers were giving them aside glances, and he couldn't blame them. Even for Diamond Tiara, the paper bags on her back were overloaded. That was after he'd put his hoof down; if he'd given her full rein, she would have looked like a general department store with legs.

A while into their walk, he noticed her looking around nervously. Strange, he thought. She was in love with the place only a few minutes ago.

"You all right?" he asked.

"I'm fine, Daddy."

"You don't look fine."

She turned her head and gave him a beam that would have made cherubs envious. "Why wouldn't I be? I'm in Canterlot, and how many of my friends can claim they've been here?"

"Those bags look kind of heavy."

"They're fine," she managed to say. "I think."

"Let me carry a few."

It was still a big pile when he'd finished. In fact, now there were two big piles - passersby moved around them as if worried one'd topple over - but at least she wasn't turning red around the face anymore.

He took a good look at the pedestrians scattered along the road. The first thing he noticed was that every last one of them wore clothing of one sort or another. In Ponyville, most mares and stallions were content to forgo ties and top hats and dinner jackets and saddle skirts, at least when there wasn't a party or a cuteceaneara going on. Filthy had always been told that he looked overdressed, given that he went through Ponyville constantly wearing a tie. By contrast, he was overexposed here.

The second thing he noticed was how lazy everypony's eyelids were. One or two couples seemed to be cheerfully sleepwalking. The third thing he noticed was how they walked around as if they owned the place. Some of them probably did own parts of the street.

Despite himself, he began to avoid their eyes. They had a contented, easy-going look even more deep-seated than his own, as though life had personally selected them to have it good. Even without the shopping giving him backache, Filthy stood out like a wooden coin among golden bits. He wished he had a different design on his tie.

Tiara also stood out, but for the opposite reason - she was like a painted lily petal with glitter and bows and frills all over. She didn't so much shine as explode in your face.

"Is it much further?" she said. Filthy looked ahead.

"I think this is the place," he said. The unicorn had been right when he'd said they couldn't miss it; the white tower rose over them like the sort of proud monarch who wouldn't even look down at street-level folk. "We'll drop your stuff off here before going to the opera."

"Why are we even here again?" she asked.

"You'll be tired when the opera finishes late." They walked up the ivory steps to the double doors. "This way, we'll both have a good night's rest before heading for home. I don't want anything to spoil tonight."