The Getaway

A getaway to a magical land of physics-defying and overbearing, over-friendly creatures is not as great one would think it would be.  Well, it's certainly not as great one ODST would think it would be.

Chris always wanted to get away from the hell known as the Great War, but god damn, this is not the sort of fantasy getaway he had in mind.  He could barely find a chance to escape from his affectionate hosts, and he still hadn't located the Spartan.  SPARTAN-104—his superior, and the only other survivor from his unit.  Well, not exactly his unit, as him and his squadmates were in no way Spartans, but for the time being, their transfer was active, and he was considered a part of Blue Team.

His current status was operational, but just barely.  He was currently sitting in what was basically a super-sized gingerbread house, surrounded by laughing, dancing, prancing ponies, all partying in his honour.  “What an honour,” he thought sarcastically.

He'd been trying to avoid this party since the idea first emerged from the pink, poofy one's mouth.  He'd told them he had his objectives, that he wasn't their to cause any harm or stir up any trouble, and he was pretty sure they believed he was genuine, but they were all so fixated on making friends with him.  Well, for the most part, the other five did understand that he had bigger worries, but they allowed the pink one to 'do her thing', promising him that he would be free to roam about undisturbed once it was just out of the way.

He didn't believe any of that.  They were obsessed with him.  The pink one especially.

Most of the time, he avoided conversation.  If he needed something, he would usually just look in their direction and ask for it, never addressing any of them by their names.  He knew each of their names, but they were so girly.  He was all for cutesy things; he loved kittens and puppies, and was a sucker for a girl that acted like a princess—a kind princess—but their names were over the top.  He hated addressing them, because he felt waves and waves of embarrassment poor down over him each time he said one of their names.  Well, Rainbow Dash, Rarity, and Applejack weren't so bad, but saying them still made him feel weird.  Probably because they were names that belonged to ponies.

He usually tried to keep to himself, and he was perfectly alright with this.  But his six friends weren't, especially the pink one.

“And so, I really really tried to find cherries to put on the cake, but for some reason, EVERYPONY in town is out!  I tried my hardest to get them though, believe me!  I even tried using one of Twilight's weird glowy potion thingies to grow them—you do believe me, right?  I hope you aren't upset or anything!” Pinkie Pie fretted.

Chris sort of zoned out when Pinkie Pie talked.  He had been thinking about SPARTAN-104 again, trying to determine a general area where he could start looking for him when the party was over.  He hadn't paid a lick of attention to anything Pinkie Pie had been saying until she was almost finished talking.  He'd gotten good at that.  It bought him plenty more time to think about more important things while she droned on, and he could make it back just in time to give a simple, “Sure,” or, “Okay,” to assure her that he'd been listening.  She really didn't like it when he didn't listen.  She'd repeat everything she had already said if she learned he hadn't been paying attention to her.

“Uh, nah, it's fine,” he said.  He and everyone else around could clearly hear the indifference in his voice, but for Pinkie, all she needed was to hear him say that.

“Great!  So how are you enjoying the party?” She beamed.

“It's nice.  The punch is good.”

“Glad ya like it!  It's my great great great great grandmother's recipe!  It was a family secret, until it wasn't anymore.  Now, everypony in Ponyville knows the recipe, and can make it themselves!” She beamed again, and just sort of stared at Chris with her big dopey smile.

“Greeeat,” Chris said, not all that sure how to respond to such simple-minded conversation.  The other five girls called Pinkie 'innocent'.  Chris preferred the term 'simple-minded'.

The door flew open behind them and another barrage of rambunctious ponies entered the house.  Chris jumped at the sudden noise and his hand dropped down to his right thigh, reaching for a sidearm he knew wasn't there.  Habit had been toying with him his entire time in Equestria, or maybe it was PTSD.  Either way, his instinct whenever he heard a loud noise was to raise his weapon in its direction.  So sometimes, the ponies found it a little odd when his hands made strange motions at loud, sudden noises.  But he was getting better at controlling it; knowing that the most dangerous thing around was a barrage of endless, pointless questions from Pinkie Pie, he was becoming much more comfortable as each day passed.  Yet, much more uncomfortable as well.

“Chris, I can't help but notice you're still wearing your, what was it... battle attire?” Rarity asked.

“Battle dress uniform,” he corrected.  “I like it.”

“But it's torn in some spots, and it looks so uncomfortable!  Why don't you wear the clothes I knitted for you?” she retorted.

“It's not that torn.  I thought you'd just be glad that I took my body armour off.  Besides, I'm used to this.  No offense, but, I'd kind of just prefer to keep wearing it.”

“Fine,” Rarity huffed.  “But you're going to have to take it off for washing sooner or later, and when you do, I hope to see you wearing the clothes I made you!” she said with a slight edge of annoyance in her voice.

“Now now, Rares.  Don't hassle him about clothes no more.  I'm sure they're the last thing on his mind right now,” Applejack said.

“Ugh, and cherries aren't?” she seethed, before quickly covering her muzzle with a hoof and blushing.  “I'm sorry, I'm just kind of disappointed that he's not wearing them.  I really wanted to see if I could design clothes for human beings as well!”

“Ah, don't you worry sugarcube.  I'm sure you could.  You've made all sorts of fantastic clothes for creatures aside from ponies!”

“Oh, thank you dear.”  The two exchanged smiles, then all eyes turned back to Chris.

“So...  how long do these parties usually go for?” he asked.