Another diplomatic day

Another day rises over New York City, a sightly gelid one by the way.

The year? Well, let's just say that the old date format became quite outdated since the rift. Not that Jesus was forgotten! Heavens no! But since the portal swung open, the humans as so the ponies too, started to count the time from this day forth.

This way, now it is 03/15/0017, or in the traditional format if you prefer; 03/15/2020.

Anyway, old format, new format, it doesn't really matter; what really matter right now is the alarm ringing inside room 2300 of Manhattan Midtown Hilton Hotel.

"Arrrrrgggggggggggggggggg"

And that's my friends, is the usual 'good morning' of Prometheus Widmore; only one of the one hundred and thirty two 'Planet Earth and Surroundings' diplomats.

Or just Prom for the close friends (Not to be confused with a prom, event in which people dance and talk about Jennifer's ridiculous dress).

After dealing with the 'fucking noise', as himself mentally described, Prom wriggled under the cozy covers for a while before-

"Oh my God!" He jumped from the bed; blankets falling on the floor, along with him of course.

Recovering the composure, Prometheus stood up and hastily grabbed the bedside clock, raising the innocent object to his eyes level.

07:38Said the reddish digital numbers.

"No no no no no!" Throwing the poor machine back on nightstand, he rushed to the bathroom; 38 minutes of lateness should be compensated somehow.

Yanking out his sleepwear on the way to the shower, he even forgot to take out the socks. Oh well, at least they will be clean and with a pleasant soap scent when I pack them

Body? Clean.

Teeth? Immaculately brushed.

Hair? Combed; exactly the way granny liked.

Dick? Cautiously positioned to the right side of his boxers; left side always gave him bad luck. (And was uncomfortable too)

Running back to his room, Prom checked the hours again; Almost eight 'o clock. From the wardrobe he retrieved a very classy (and expensive) suit. But that was no problem for him, diplomats earn a very good wage.

Precisely for that, Prometheus couldn't be late for absolutely nothing, because if he did so, there would be a long list of very prepared gentlemen, ready to replace him.

Throwing the damp socks inside a bag and closing it, Prom finished his morning affairs. Just another cologne spray here and there, "Aaaand Done!" He muttered

The man made a quick stop in front of the mirror to align his tie, taking the opportunity to rehearse one of his patented sexy smiles; since everything seemed to be working properly, he just got his bags and left. Silently praying to the gods for a fluid traffic. His next challenge?

Reach John F. Kennedy airport in less than a hour.

"Couldn't you go faster??"

"Mr. Widmore, this is the ninth time you ask me this. We're almost there!" The driver pointed to the airport terminal a few miles ahead.

"Your jet is not leaving without you, sir." He added.

To Prometheus cardiac arteries relief, they've reached the airport right on time. He threw his baggage inside one of those funny carts, and started a race through the main lobby hurriedly.

"Departure gate 9, departure gate 9..." One by one, he checked the signs over his head.

"Here!" He darted inside a large room.

Looking for any signs of her, Prometheus spun around his feet. "Where the hell did she-"

"Mr. Widmore! Over here!" Waved a mid twenties woman across the room. Sarah; his personal adviser, secretary, and almost everything you could imagine.

"Oh my god Widmore, are you okay?" She looked to his face apprehensively.

"Yes, yes... Very late, but nonetheless alive" He smiled. Sarah took his bags and signaled to a door.

"Right there- I tried calling you but you didn't answered, I was starting to think you was dead or kidnapped! It would be hard to explain you know?" They went into a side corridor. As an official diplomat, Mr. Widmore had some benefits, such as an escape route from that terrible air travels bureaucracy. I mean, what are the chances of a Diplomat hiding a bomb inside his ass?

Pretty much zero; or well... We hope so.

"...so I slept more than planned and this happened!" He pointed to his watch.

With an ear on the phone, and another one listening to her boss justifications, Sarah was a versatile girl. "Hmmm, okay, we're coming to the plane right now- Fine, bye"

"You're lucky, Celestia is going to arrive an hour later!" She chuckled.

"What?? Then I-I... did all of this... shit in vain?!" Exactly, human race was fooled by Princess Trollestia again.

"Come on, think positively; this way you'll have more time to talk with Ms. Rarity-" Sarah nudged him.

"Rarity?" Prom cocked an eyebrow. "What she has to do with me?"

"Oh I'm so sorry!" The girl facepalmed. "I completely forgot to tell you, Rarity was here in the city attending to a fashion congress - she would leave yesterday. But then, her plane presented some weird electrical malfunctions." After a short pause, Sarah resumed her explanations "Uh... As she was heading to the same meeting, I invited her to come with us."

The jet already waited for them on the runway, walking up the stairs they stopped by the plane door. "You don't have any problems with that, do you?"

Taking a glance inside the elegant passenger cabin, Prometheus spotted the unicorn fixing her mane on the window reflection.

"... Prometheus?" Sarah raised an eyebrow.

Without realizing, he was staring at the unicorn mare right across the corridor.

"N-no... There's no problem at all." He awkwardly smiled.

Rarity at this point had noticed the situation and now just politely observed everything from her seat. She had to admit, it was a personal dream to fly in one of these marvelous jets - instead of that old thing Celestia called a 'single-engine airplane'.

Everything here seemed to be perfect for somepony like her, despite the occasional awkward moments of course.

"Ahhh... I'm going to the crew's cabin, call if you need me." Sarah giggled and left.

He

Was

Alone

With-

"W-well... Hello, Ms. Rarity!" Taking the seat in front of her, Prom looked at the graceful mare facing him.

He had been in a couple of events where she was present, yet, never talked ~~face-to-face~~ - face-to-muzzle before. Prometheus was a knowledgeable man though; he knew much about Equestria, that Rarity was bearer of a magical element of her world, knew that she owned a high fashion boutique, and also knew she was-

"...Much hotter in person" Haven't I told you that Prometheus tends to think louder than expected?

She gaped at that.

"Oh my G-god!" He facepalmed "I'm so sorry- I-I didn't mean to-"

Rarity waved a hoof. "T-there's no need to apologize d-darling, I'm g-glad you find me... Umm... 'hot'. That's a compliment, I supoose" She tried to hide her blush.

"Yeah... It was-"

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is Carl Zimmerman and I will be your Captain for today, the entire crew welcome you aboard of Gulfstream G-550/ Flight 878.

Our flight time will be of approximately six hours and twenty minutes. We will be flying from New York City/USA to London/UK

At this time, make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright position. Also make sure your seat belt is correctly fastened. We advise you that as of this moment, any electronic equipment must be turned off. Thank you.”

Yes! Thank You!

Thanks to captain Zimmerman, Prom avoided one of that lifetime awkward moments, not that he was comfortable though.

Some time after the take off, the pilot gave that typical 'You may move around the cabin now' announcement, unfortunately, none of the two passengers seemed to be interested in moving out from their spots.

Sure, Mr. Widmore tongue really killed all the mood. And I'm not implying that was a 'mood' before.

Prom cracked his knuckles impatiently, for the fourth time or so in less than an hour. Not a single word spoken. At this point, the airplane floated above a thick layer of clouds, Rarity spent her time merely looking through the window.

Eventually their gazes locked, making almost impossible to keep the silence up; you could cut the tension in the air with a knife, if knives were allowed on board of course.

I can't handle this atmosphere anymore... How can I survive for more five or six hours, without shoving my head into a hole?

And the answer is:

"Do you like champagne?" Gathering the few droplets of pride still left behind, Prometheus gave a shot- He could lose it all, or save the day.

"Huh?" Rarity turned her attention to the nervous diplomat - a short distance separating them.

"Ah... W-well, I really need s-something alcoholic to drink. So I wondered; do you want some? Champagne, or I don't know... Whiskey? Do you ponies even drink? Oh my god, I'm sorry if I-"

"Champagne is... Fine. I think so." Rarity said.

Hallelujah!! Finally a successful approach, congratulations Mr. Widmore; we're proud of you.

"Oh... Very well then!" He smiled.

Pushing a button at his left armrest, he spoke in mid air -

"Sarah?" Rarity confusedly observed the action.

"Yes Mr. Widmore, need anything?" Her voice left the cabin speakers

"Could you please, bring us the drinks trolley?"

Author's Note

Hmmmm... I feel drunken clop coming on next chapter...

Please, remember to rate the story, either 'good' or 'bad', It's really important for me. And also, feel free to point any error/misspelling/'what the hell is this' you've found in the story.

Anyway, this is supposed to be a short fic, maybe two or three chapters, hope you like it!

• PedroHander