Alacrity Minifics

Soft orchestral music drifted out of the record player, just loud enough to mask the clinking of silverware against bowls.  Jet Set and his parents were only halfway through the appetizer course and the air was already so tense they could serve it for the main course.

"So, then, you are not taking Fine Line to the Fall Formal Gala tonight?"  Jet Ship glanced over at his son.  "Are you sure that is wise?"

Jet Set opened his mouth, but Diadem interrupted.  "To be fair, Fine Line's family is only moderately successful.  He could do better."

Ship raised his brow, quietly sipped his soup, then asked, "And what of Lyrica Lilac?  She has potential."

After a glance at his mother, who seemed preoccupied with straightening her hair, Jet Set said, "I am taking none of the mares you listed for me, Father."

Spoons fell from magic to land in the soup bowls and wide eyes turned to him.  He lifted his own spoon to his lips, keeping his calm expression in place.

"Then who exactly are you taking, Son?" Ship's eyes narrowed just enough to show his displeasure.

"Upper Crust," Jet Set replied between sips.

Diadem gawked.  Her horn lit up and she snatched the bottle from the serving pony's hooves, waved a hoof to dismiss him, and began pouring herself a glass.

Ship steepled his hooves.  "That isn't part of the plan, Son.  You need a respectable wife if you plan to join and, eventually, take over the company."

"Well."  Jet Set lowered his spoon to rest on the edge of his bowl and lifted his gaze to meet his father's.  "Then I suppose the plan is changing."

"Go to your room," Ship snarled with ice in his voice.  "Your mother and I need to talk."

Jet Set shook his head as he stood, his chair screeching as it scraped against the ground from his sudden movement.  "I'm not a child, Father.  You're going to discuss my inheritance.  I'll save you the time.  I'm not interested."

Diadem poured another glass and tossed it back.  She rubbed her forehead, then stared at her son, eyes narrowed.  "Jet Set, what has gotten into your head?  You have an extraordinary opportunity to live how every pony dreams and few ponies achieve!"

Jet Set shrugged on his way out of the dining room.  His ears flicked at the sound of his mother yelling after him, but he kept walking, each step shedding off a weight he had been carrying all his life.  All of their expectations, demands, and restrictions suddenly no longer felt so necessary to follow.

He smiled at the servant that opened one of the two front doors for him.  "Thank you, Penny Worth."

The old stallion nodded respectfully.  "Have a good day, sir."

Jet Set paused and looked up at Penny Worth.  "No, Penny Worth."  He smiled when Worth lowered his gaze to make direct, curious eye contact.  "I sincerely mean it.  Thank you."

The stallion who had practically raised him blinked, then returned the smile, the wrinkles around the corners of his eyes becoming more pronounced from the kind expression.  "You're welcome, sir.  It has always been my pleasure."

The door opened no less than five seconds after he knocked.  Instead of Upper Crust's mother or father, the mare herself answered the door and hurriedly stepped outside.

"Hello."  She glanced behind her, then back up at him.  "Are you ready to go?"

Jet Set blinked, once at the nonstandard greeting, twice at how she looked.  It was a gown fit for the Grand Galloping Gala, not a simple school gala.  Satin, lace, and gilded ribbons were woven together into an extraordinary dress that made her the single most beautiful mare he had ever seen.

After a few more blinks, he finally smiled.  "Yes, I am."  He offered the crook of his foreleg.  "Shall we, Miss Crust?"

"Please," she said while accepting his offer, "call me anything but that."

They started to walk away while he mulled over his options.  "You look lovely tonight, beautiful."

Her grip on his foreleg tightened and out of the corner of his eye, he saw her ears perk and face flush, and he smiled.  He'd had several marefriends before and they had all been the same: eyelash fluttering, giggling, gossiping creatures that couldn't express a sincere emotion.

Upper Crust was different and he liked that.  He liked that a lot.