Who or What is a George Clooney?
Something Twilight Sparkle—Princess Twilight Sparkle, her aides were quick to correct her—learned early on in her new career as a Princess was there was no time.
For anything.
She trotted into her bedroom and looked out the window. Luna's moon was high in the sky. She groaned. Day became night so quickly, surely it wasn't the same back when she was just a Ponyville Librarian... even though she was an element of harmony, life wasn't this complicated. Was it?
Now, she was always behind. Long days. More and more of them recently. She would stay up late, go to bed late and then wake up late, and the cycle would begin again.
She pulled up at her desk, cracking open a book and trying to find her place. Her bookmark had gathered dust. The Life of Star Swirl, the volume five in a long running series, had long been neglected. She used to devour each one the moment it came out. Volume five had been out for a year, and volume six was about to come out. She hadn't finished the book.
Her eyes wandered over to the project list posted next to the mirror by her desk. So many projects, so few crossed off. A few had the errant check mark, but they gave her little comfort. A half-flanked task was almost worse than one never started at all.
There was so much more she wanted to do.
Blinking, she tried to focus back on her book. She knew that they contained the stories of Star Swirl's time with the griffons, and what he learned when he briefly changed their king into a frog.
Instead, her eyes kept moving back to her list.
Install new magic-light system all through Ponyville. Not checked.
Approve the designs for improvements on the library. Not checked.
Visit Cadance and Shining Armor within the year. Unchecked.
And when was the last time she had seen her friends, other than other than Rarity's visits and the occasional Rainbow Dash drop-in (when the Wonderbolts came through Canterlot)? Not since...
Oh, Celestia, she couldn't even remember!
Groaning, she dropped her head into the pages of the book she was also behind on, and rubbed her muzzle back and forth on the pages.
After a moment, she held her head up and looked in the mirror. some ink had come off from the book, and her face now had copied some words. The sentence on her cheek was broken, but a quick look to the book under her chin filled in the gaps:
I would not dwell on the past
If time did not go by so fast
"You and me both, Star Swirl," she muttered, dabbing a kerchief in a glass of water and rubbing the words off.
Still, this was her time, her only time to he to work on her projects. She just needed to keep her eyes open.
She just...
There was the ocean.
Well, first, there was a rush of green grass. Then there was (however improbably) a well-groomed hedge, there was the sand and the sun, and then there was the ocean.
And there was Twilight Sparkle, staring at all of it standing on the grass.
For a moment, she took in the sounds of the crashing waves, the salt of the sea and the impressive, endless view of the ocean... across the hedge. She frowned.
Twilight Sparkle was excellent at many things. She was trained and raised in the powers of friendship, magic and that friendship is magic. That last one had been drummed in pretty thoroughly by her teacher and friends.
There was no task that Twilight Sparkle could not accomplish. No mystery that she could not uncover with science (and a little magic.) No wonders she could not read a book about.
"Wait a moment, this isn't right."
But one thing she was not very good at, not very good at all, was going with the flow.
"A hedge? Next to the sea?" She stared up at the sky. "Princess Luna, come on now. The ecology alone makes that extremely unlikely. The ground's too salty for anything that steady to grow."
Especially in dreams.
She snorted and trotted around, taking in the scene. "Still, it's something different, I suppose. I've never actually had a good look at the ocean, just saw it out of the corner of my eye in Manhattan." She put a hoof to her chin, turning her head up to the sky. "I wonder what part of my psyche inspired this?"
Slowly, a shape began to rise from behind the hedge on the ocean view side.
Twilight was oblivious, back turned to the ocean (and the improbable hedge guarding it) She continued to pace and ponder aloud. "Maybe this speaks to my innate desire to go on adventures. Then again, maybe this is more literal, that I need to actually make a trip to the sea. One that isn't just visiting the city surrounded by the sea."
The shape stopped rising, and was staring at her.
She had no idea. She was busy.
"But there are so many places I haven't been yet... the princess wants me to visit the Gryphon's territory, I've been meaning to take Spike back to his homeland, so many things to do..." She yawned and stretched her wings, "Or maybe Spike and I just need a vacation..." She rubbed her eyes, and frowned again. "...or maybe, I just need to stop talking to my—"
She froze in place. Out of the corner of her eye, there was movement. Somepony- or something- was staring at her. Turning slowly, her fears were justified.
There it was.
It was standing behind the hedge, on the ocean-side. It had salt and pepper fur—no, that wasn't right, it was more like a mane of some kind—but its skin had no other hair that she could see, except right above those eyes.
Those big, brown, oddly gorgeous eyes.
There were also ears that resembled an apes, but again, hairless. And it didn't resemble an ape, not really. The closest thing she could pull from the science vault inside her mind was 'hairless bear'.
...although again, there was some hair. An eyebrow, perhaps?
Luna was going to have some explaining to do when she woke up.
It looked like it was expecting some kind of response. She threw on her best regal smile. "Oh. Uh. Hi. Hi there. I'm Twilight Sparkle."
It squinted its eyes, staring at her. Through her. As if it was sizing her up.
She tried to maintain her smile, although her own eye started twitching. "Princess Twilight Sparkle, actually... and you are?"
The creature's eyes went wide again, and it tilted its head, arching one of its eyebrows.
She rolled her eyes. "You know, I know that this is only a dream... and that you are just a figment of it..." Shaking her head, she wagged her hoof at the creature. "But that's no reason not to be polite."
The creature spoke. And while she did not see a mouth move or a tongue wag, there was no denying that from the direction of the hedge... came the smoothest, most velvety male voice she had ever heard in her whole life.
And it said:
"Hello, Princess Twilight Sparkle. I'm George Clooney."
"Twilight? Umm... Twi?"
She lifted her head off her desk, and realized she could only see out of her left eye. Blinking, she realized both irises were working, but her vision was obscured on her right. Also, something was gently kissing her cheek.
"Uh, you've got a thing on your..."
The voice was familiar, but she still felt confused about who, what where when why and how. She turned her head to the right, employing her left to figure out... Ah.
Her number one assistant was staring at her, teeth gritted in nervousness. "Do you want me to get that for you?"
She turned and saw her reflection in the mirror, and couldn't decide what was worse: her bloodshot eye, the bizarre shape her mane had transformed into overnight, or the piece of parchment stuck to her cheek, most likely from drool. A gentle ticking distracted her from her frightful appearance. She cast her free eye towards the source.
"No!"
Who knows the terror in the heart of a punctual Princess who has overslept?
"Spiiiiiikkkeeeeee!"
The dragon raised among ponies knows.
"It's okay, Twilight! Don't panic, don't panic!" Spike waved his little claws in the air, hopeful smile pasted on his face, "I've got it all figured out. Just... Listen, okay?"
Twilight's eyes did not leave the clock, but she at least started breathing, which meant she had stopped screaming.
"I explained the situation to Rarity, and she's fine, said something about needing to go fabric shopping in Canterlot. We rescheduled your meeting with her to later in the day. Okay?"
She nodded slowly, eyes still fixed on the clock but breathing approaching normal. Spike waited a few moments before unfurling a piece of parchment and reading aloud:
"So, you've still got the meeting with the griffin ambassadors at one," Spike cleared his throat, "They'll want to discuss treaty details, but you'll have to stick to hour time slot. It's the only way to keep on schedule..."
She groaned, and Spike stopped.
"We can do this after—"
"No, sorry. It's not your fault." She waved her hoof at Spike to continue.
He cleared his throat. "Tea with the princesses from 2-230-"
"Spike, I don't have time for tea! My whole day is-"
"I'm sorry, Twilight, but I've been ordered upon penalty of tickling to make sure you report to the daily tea sessions."
"Tickling?"
His usual sunny disposition darkened. "You have no idea. Anyway, Then there's the economic hearings."
Twilight brightened up. "Oh, good! I've been looking forward to those, I have several questions that-"
"Well, you're going to have to keep it short, because we pushed your gossip session with Rarity-"
"Spike! It is not a gossip session." Twilight frowned. "She does occasionally inject some random tidbits about the odd pony, but it's all for a very legitimate purpose!"
Spike coughed. "Sorry. Because we moved your, ahem, weekly Ponyville briefing to 3:45, that means you'll have to duck out of the economic hearings early to make that."
"Aww!" Twilight pouted. "But I love listening to Bits'n Coin! His theory of 'invisible hoof' economics changed the equestrian system as we know it."
Spike wrinkled his snout. "You know, I actually never understand anything those experts say after 'things are good' or 'things are bad.' No loss there."
Twilight rolled her eyes. "So after the economy and the affairs of Ponyville, what's next?"
"Well, the planning meeting for the Crystal Empire Gala is at 5, unfortunately, we still don't have their response to your proposal for a theme. The Pegasus Express flier arrives at 4, so hopefully it'll be with her."
"And then we're done, right? I want to be able to update all the projects I have going on—"
"Actually, not even close." Spike smiled sadly. "You're observing Luna's first two hours of night court, then off to Fancy Pants for his monthly cocktail hour..."
Twilight sunk her head back down onto the desk as Spike listed one obligation after another. "Spike, when did this become my life?"
He shrugged. "When you became a Princess, I guess." He looked down at the list. "You know, I could always just say you're not feeling well."
"I'm tired, not ill."
Spike nodded very slowly. "But I could just say you're not feeling well."
She frowned. "I don't want you to lie for me, Spike."
Turning the list over in his claws, he tilted his head. "It wouldn't... exactly... be a—"
Cracking her neck, she shook her head as she pushed back from her desk. "No. No. I can do this." She took a deep breath, then walked over to Spike and exhaled, grinning brightly. "Okay, let's start the day. Bring on the griffons!"
He blinked, eye twitching. "Uh, how about breakfast... and a shower...."
She stopped. "Oh, yeah."
"...and some..." he hesitated, "brushing of the teeth?"
She blushed. "Right. I'll just... right."
A thought snaked its way into her head as she trotted to the bathroom:
Who or what is a George Clooney?
Twilight magically opened her door, stomped into her bedroom, then closed them behind her with a defiant flick of her head.
Hot tears burning in her eyes, she purposefully ignored her reflection in the mirror on the way to her bed and collapsed into it. She put a pillow in her mouth to stifle a scream of frustration, and summoned all her will and magic might and focused it on a single thought:
I will not cry...
I will not cry...
I will not cry...
She closed her eyes, and she kept thinking the thought over and over and—
A gentle release of air and suddenly she was biting on nothing but fabric. Eyes open, there were feathers. Feathers everywhere. She opened her mouth, and the now limp pillow case fell onto the blanket.
As tears rolled down her face, and she realized that not only had she failed at diplomacy, and at not crying, but she couldn’t even keep her pillows safe.
“Twilight?”
She turned her head to see a tiny scaled head peeking its head in from the doorway.
“Spike?”
“It’s almost two, you’ll be late for tea. Why aren’t you at tea?“ He closed the door behind him and stared up at the feathers in the air. “What happened?”
She rolled over and clutched the pillow over her muzzle, trying not to cry. Failing.
“Did something happen with the Griffons? I know Prince Geoffery is a featherbrain, but Ambassador Gregor is usually—“
"Spike,” her voice came out in a hoarse whisper, “have you heard of the nicknames they give the princesses?"
Scratching the back of his neck, he shook his head. "I mean, there's a nickname for Celestia, but, you're not going to hear me say it out loud. The tickling, Twilight. It's terrible."
"What? No, not the 'sun butt' thing. I mean, like... have you heard ponies call her 'Queen'?"
He shrugged. "I guess. It doesn't work anymore to just say "the Princess says", because there's four of you now. And she’s the oldest, and—“
"So she's the Queen. Have you heard of the other nicknames?"
Spike smiled nervously. "I mean, ponies talk, I don't really—"
"You've heard of the Warrior?" Twilight's eyes were wet, but her expression was hard. "The Bride?"
"Okay, that last one is new to me, but—“
“What do they call me, Spike?”
“Uh…” he started backing away, “I really should go tell the Princesses you’ll be late for tea…”
“What do they call me, Spike?” she thundered.
He hung his head. “I…”
“We have been waiting on Celestia to approve this trade agreement for months now.”
“The Princess most regrets her absence, but Mr. Gregor,, I assure you I'm fully authorized to negotiate—“
“Ha! 'Authorized to negotiate.' Lame! Is that pony for 'ask mommy if that's okay?’”
“Uh- well- Mr... I mean Duke Geoffery...”
“How dare you! I am a Prince!”
“Easy, Geoffery. But his bluntness highlights a point- you will be taking our demands to Celestia, yes?”
“Well... It will be her signature on the document if it is signed.”
“Yes. Therefore We had hoped to discuss this matter with personally.”
“And many others! How many more attacks will it take for your Celestia to take action against the Changeling Hive?”
“The Princess believes that military action is not necessary—“
“Ha! She never does. A dragon could level a small town in the middle of the empire, and she'd still want to negotiate.”
“That was my dragon, and he was very sorry!”
“If your dragon was to wreck one of our nests, Princess, an apology would not be sufficient.”
“This is insulting. Equestria has four princesses, and they send the Foal!”
“Excuse me? I'll have you know I am only four years younger than my brother, who is the Prince of-:”
“Ha! And the Foal insists she's old enough to sit at the adults table.”
“Stop it! Why do you keep calling me that?”
“Wait, wait. Geoffery... Princess, you don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“Ha! Talk about lame! She truly is—”
“Quiet, Geoffery. My Prince apologizes, Princess. It's one thing to insult another creature, but it's another when the creature doesn't understand the insult. If our barbs don't translate, how can we conduct diplomacy?”
“I know what the word 'foal' means, ambassador.”
“But do you know what it means in context to you?”
“...”
“I thought not. All over the world, they talk now that this is the Era of the Four Princesses. We once had one, and now we have four. The Queen, the Warrior, the Bride… and the Foal.”
“The Bride and...”
“You would agree that only Cadance has taken a mate, and there is only one Queen. That leaves Luna, and you.”
“But I've... I've been in battle! I defeated Discord, I fought Chrysallis—“
“Fought and lost, you mean.”
“What do you mean, lost?!”
“By most accounts. The Bride defeated the changeling queen.”
“But, I—“
“They say many things about you, all across the various lands. Young. Brittle. Insecure. Dangerous. Naive. Pretender. Princess's pet. The one all agree on, Princess, is your intelligence. Smart. Naive, but, smart. Would somepony as smart as you call yourself the Warrior?”
“I'm the Foal?”
“Only one year a Princess, and they send you to negotiate with us.”
“Griffons have been here as long as ponies, yet now we only rate a visit with the Child Princess? How can we not be insulted?”
“I'm the Foal?!”
“Come, Gregor. This is boring me now.”
“I'm the Foal…”
“We're going to stay in Equestria a few days. Fly to Las Pegasus tomorrow, then to Clousdale Thursday!to meet with our visiting students at your Wonderbolt Academy. Come Friday, we will return for a final meeting. Please let the Queen know.”
“…”
“Hopefully Canterlot will take these talks a little more seriously by then.”
“Don’t make me say it, Twilight.” Spike’s eyes were on the ground. “It hurts me too.”
“Fine.” She rolled over, tucking one of her intact pillows underneath her head. “Cancel the rest of my schedule for today. Shut the door and tell my guards that I don’t want to be disturbed.” She sighed. “Please.”
“Sure, Twilight. Sure.” He trudged to the door, then hesitated. “Do you want to talk?”
“To you? No.” Twilight touched the empty pillow case to her cheek, feeling the cool fabric against her fur. “I don’t want to talk to the Queen, or the Warrior, or the entire economic council. Or to Rarity, or Fancy Pants, or Cadance. Or to anypony, really. I need to be alone for a bit.”
Spike opened the door, then turned back one last time. “What should I tell Celestia and Luna?”
She stared up as the last feather came to a halt, resting on her outstretched hoof. “Tell them I’m ill.”
A cornucopia of sounds surrounded her. Artificial, mechanical sounds of excitement, coupled with the delighted cries of living creatures and the metal ting of bits being dispensed. She opened her eyes and blinked. Comforting yet dim lighting surrounded her, punctuated with the occasional bright flash of color and odd magical illusion.
Twilight closed her eyes, trying to focus. She began to sort out the voices from the other sounds, and began to piece it together. She opened her eyes again, and this time, things began to make sense. All manner of ponies, griffins and dragons were scattered around her at various tables, bars and machines. They were laughing, they were drinking…
… they were gambling?
"Hello, Ms. Sparkle."
She turned, and there they were again: those brown eyes. Small and alien, but otherwise striking and staring right at her. The hairless-but-for-his-mane-and-eyebrows bear sat in front of her, this time it's face in full view. It had a small mouth, seemingly permanently etched in an upturned tiny smile.
She hesitated. "You're the... Cloon, right?"
The tiny smile got a little wider. "I don't know about that. But on my birth certificate, and my driver's license, I'm fairly certain it says 'Mister George Timothy Clooney.'" He looked away, staring at the Casino floor. “That’s Clooney, not ‘Cloon’. Just so we’re clear.”
She took a breath, noted that he was a male of a species, and looked him over. He had some kind of black clothing, a suit, perhaps? It covered his outer shoulders and front legs, underneath was a white shirt of some kind. He wore no tie. She arched an eyebrow. "The last time I saw you we were on a beach, and you were in front of a hedge. What are you doing here again?" She hesitated, looking around "Actually, what am I doing here? Where is ‘here’?"
He shrugged. "You're an accomplished, smart woman. I'm sure you can figure it out."
She frowned. Celestia wouldn't be happy with her correcting a strange new creature who had appeared before in a large, strange tuxedo. But some itches insisted on being scratched. "Mare. I'm a mare."
"My mistake. You're an accomplished, smart mare." He looked away and lifted a glass to its mouth, sniffing a liquid that had the color of iced tea. "I'm sure you can figure it out."
Snorting, she turned away from him and re-examined her surroundings. They were at small high table, overlooking what appeared to be a casino floor. A black railing was on her left, and below it was a row of machines, some of them in use by several ponies and one griffon. To her right was the rest of the bar, although they appeared to be the only ones at a table. The rest of the crowd, if it could be called that (one unicorn reading a newspaper and two loud earth ponies) were at various booths. The bartender appeared to be a black griffon, talking in low tones to a bat pony at the bar, and a beige unicorn marep wearing a cocktail dress was patiently taking an order from the two earth ponies.
Above the bartender was some sort of green magical sign that said “FILLY BAR AND LOUNGE”.
“Why am I at a bar?” she said.
“For your health. Cheers.” He raised his glass again, and took a healthy sip off what was left of his beverage. “So. What’s on your mind, Princess?”
This time she actually watched him drink, and she gaped. Earlier, when he was behind the hedge, she could only really see his eyes. Now, she got a look at whatever it was holding the glass. Instead of a hoof, he had....
“What is that?”
"This?" He stared at his limb, and the gold band around it that seemed to sparkle. "This is a Rolex." He hesitated. "It's not a real Rolex, or course, but it's a good enough fake that it'd pass for most people."
"No I mean, what is... what do you call your, it's not a hoof, it's not a claw..."
He blinked. "This is a hand."
"Hand. Hand?" She chewed the word. "Roll-ex. Hand. Okay, uh... how does it work?"
“Well, it’s got five fingers and it does what I tell it to do.” Clooney shrugged. "I don't think about it much. It does what I ask of it, just like my watch."
She squinted. "It looks like a clock necklace for your, uh, hand."
He laughed. "A clock necklace, is, in fact, a watch. And a Rolex is a very expensive watch." He took it off his wrist and put it on the blackjack table. "Here, take a look."
"But..." She shook her head. "Clocks are simple devices, at least in Equestria. Why would your species make an expensive clock?" She lit up her horn and levitated the Roll-ex up for closer inspection. "Is it a more precise time piece?"
"Actually, most people don't need watches anymore. Our phones do everything now, from the weather to the stock market to the time and even, sometimes, carry a phone call."
Twilight opened her mouth and then closed it before speaking. "Putting aside for a moment what a 'phone call' is, if these devices tell time, then why do you need a watch? Much less a very expensive... Roll-ex?"
He smiled again, leaning back in his chair. "The only reason a person would wear, much less buy, a Rolex is to be able to tell the world that they can afford a Rolex. That dropping 10 grand on an accessory is just a normal Tuesday to them."
She blinked. "That makes no sense."
He shrugged. "Welcome to the human race. May I?" He took the watch back, gently pulling it from her field of magic with a tug and placing it back on his wrist. "So. What’s on your mind, Princess?”
"You keep asking that."
"Seems appropriate. We are in your mind. But If you want to spend the time gambling and drinking, that's fine by me. I've had worse Friday nights." "Is it Friday?"
"It's only Tuesday."
He laughed, and turned his head to his left. “Excuse me?”
She turned and saw the cocktail mare trot over to Clooney, staring expectantly. She had a martini glass cutie mark and a patient, warm expression. “Yes, Mr. Clooney?”
Clooney smiled. "Hi. It’s Ms. Stirred, isn’t it? Shakenaught Stirred”
“That’s me, Mr. Clooney.”
He waved his hand. “George is fine. Now. Can I get a scotch, and a scotch?”
“Of course, Mr. Clooney.”
"Thanks. And would bring a Makers and ginger for my friend here? She's having a long week, and it's only Tuesday."
Stirred hesitated. "I'm sorry, sir? Makers?"
"Yes. Makers Mark bourbon and ginger ale?” He paused, then added, “If you're out of that, Jack'll do."
She smiled nervously, magically tapping her pen on her notepad. "I don't believe we carry those brands of bourbon, or at least I'm not familiar with them. I do apologize. Might I recommend Galloper's, or Rich Reserve?"
Clooney's permanent smile faded a little. He turned to Twilight.
"The Maker's I get, maybe, but I've never been in a Casino that didn't know, much less carry Jack Daniels. Are we in Las Vegas?"
Twilight shook her head, pointing at the table top. "Las Pegasus."
He blinked, then picked up the napkin in front of him and stared at it. "Filliagio, Las Pegasus. That's a choice." He turned back to the cocktail mare. "I apologize, Miss Stirred. I'm a stranger in a strange land. Galloper's, you said? That mixes well with ginger ale?"
She smiled her head. "The bartender thinks so. We call it the galloping ginger. We mix it with Lime juice, shake it up and serve it in a sugar rimmed cup."
"The bartender says. What do you say?"
Stirred giggled, flipping her mane. "It's one of my favorites."
"Let's see if you and the bartender are right." He held up his glass. "A scotch, a scotch and a Galloping Ginger."
Twilight cut in. "None for me, thank you—“ She turned to him, and whispered, “I've got an early morning."
He held up his ‘hand’. "I insist. That’s all for now, and this will be done by the time you get back. Thank you, Ms. Stirred.”
The cocktail mare scribbled on her pad. "Same tab?"
"Same tab. Thank you very much."
She nodded and departed. Twilight frowned again, watching her depart.
"You know, a frown doesn’t suit you nearly as well a smile.” He sipped his beverage again. “Or that look of honest curiosity you had when asking about my watch.”
“She didn’t react…” Twilight muttered. “Even in Las Pegasus, they don’t have creatures like you…”
He shrugged. “You would think that a human being sitting in the middle of a Las Pegasus Casino would draw some comment.”
Twilight squinted. “What did you say earlier? That we were in my mind?”
“I might have said that, yes.” He poured the rest of his drink into his mouth.
Her eyes went wide. “Oh, I get it. This is another dream."
“Well done, Twilight.”
She sighed. "Alright, let's get his over with. What am I supposed to do?”
“Do?” He shrugged. “It’s a dream, I don’t think there is a plot, or object—“ He stopped, tilting his head. “What are you doing?”
Twilight had her hooves on her cheeks, pushing them inward. “Tryth to pinth mysteh awakth.”
He smirked. “How’s that working out for you?”
Groaning, she rubbed her eyes in frustration. “Look, I’ve got a very busy day. Is there some reason you’re haunting my dreams?”
“The better question is what are you doing sleeping in the middle of your very busy day.” He picked up the napkin to give it another, more thorough examination. “Filliagio. That’s just cruel.”
“I—well.” She frowned. “I haven’t been sleeping well, and I just needed a nap.”
“Yes because you’re a pony who naps.” He crumpled the napkin and threw it over the railing. “You’re a pony who takes a load off, sleeps away their troubles on a cloud, takes a beauty rest on a fainting couch. Certainly not a pony who stays up all night, falling asleep on her book while trying to make the world a better place. A pony who is now crushed because a meeting with two shifty characters, for some reason, has shook you to your very core.”
She found herself gaping again.
“I’m not a doctor, but I’d advise you not to leave your face like that. It might get stuck that way. What’s on your mind, Princess?”
She turned away, flustered. “You're not going to give up, are you?"
He smirked. "Polite but persistent is my first line of attack."
"Do I get to ask questions, or do you already know the answers?” she snapped.
“If I can answer, I will. I’m not here to annoy you.” He paused. “At least, not on purpose.”
“Well my first thought is," She leaned back in her chair, looking around, "why you?"
"Why not me?" His smirk returned. "Next."
She harrumphed, crossing her hooves. "That's an evasion, Mr. Clooney, not an answer."
"Very good. Next."
"Come on!" She gritted her teeth. "Why you? Why me? Why here? You must be here for a reason. If I just needed to vent or talk through my problems, I could have just as easily dreamed Celestia, or Rarity, or Rainbow Dash—" she hesitated. "Maybe not Rainbow Dash."
"But you didn't, you dreamed me, a human being, something that doesn't exist in your world, or at least hasn't for a long, long time." He leaned over and whispered. “You're a Princess, you're upset, but you said you didn’t want to talk to anypony. Well, good news. I’m not a pony. I’m not real. I’m a shadow, an invisible man. Anything you say to me disappears along with me when you wake up. I’m a tool, Ms. Sparkle. A useful thing. So use me.” He leaned back in his chair. "As for the why here, that, I'm not sure. Do you have a specific connection to Las Pegasus?”
She shook her head slowly. “I’ve never been.”
“Then let’s also file that under ‘why not’. Ah, here we are.”
Rolling her eyes, she stayed silent as the cocktail mare returned with their drinks.
“Thank you, Ms. Stirred.”
“Of course, Mr. Clooney.” She turned to Twilight and her smile faded slightly. “Princess Sparkle? Is something wrong?”
Twilight blinked, realizing she had been staring at the fizzing concoction. She shook her head and gave a bright smile, and Stirred nodded and walked away.
Twilight leaned across the table and hissed, “I don't drink, George."
"Maybe you should start, Twilight. Cheers.” He clinked his glass of ‘scotch and scotch’ with her Galloping Ginger, and took a drink.
She sighed, eyes returning to the conconction. It smelled inviting, but she was wary.
Oh well, it was a dream after all…
Magically lifting the glass to her lips, she took a sip. It tasted like ginger-coated heaven.
“Oh, my.” She blinked. “That’s… excellent.”
“Good. So, Princess.” He smiled. “What’s on your mind?”
She sighed. “I found out today I have a nickname.”
“Oh?” He replaced his glass on the table.
“They’re calling me ‘The Foal.’”
He put his hands together and the tiny fleshy tendrils—the gingers— intermixed with each other. “And how do you feel about that?”
She took another sip, and this time a full-throated drink, letting the ginger and bourbon coat her tongue and throat. “I bucking hate it.”
Clooney smirked. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
