Currant had a problem.
Well, to be accurate, Currant always had a problem of one sort or another.
But right now, Currant’s problem ran thusly; there was a rather enjoyable party, with lots of good food, comfortable seating, and pleasant company. And to top it off, it was lovely and warm.
The problem with said party was, he wasn’t in it. As his luck decreed, he had misplaced his invitation, so while everypony else was indoors, generally having a good time, he was stuck outdoors, in the cold, receiving a stony glare in return for his somewhat desperate attempt to explain that he had, in fact, been invited, and as such should be let through.
The earth pony at the door, predictably, was having none of it.
So it was, resigned to his fate, that Currant had turned tail long enough that he was caught unawares, his ears unprepared for the aural assault in the form of a screech he knew only too well.
“Blackieeeeeeeeeeee!”
That was all the warning he got, in the moment before he was flattened onto the ground by a not inconsiderate weight, the weight of his, if not friend, then at least close acquaintance, Honey Wild.
“Oof!” he greeted her enthusiastically.
With an all too gleeful giggle, his assailant dismounted Currant, allowing him to climb back to his hooves and dust himself off.
“I was starting to get worried, Blackie! I thought you were missing all the fun, but you were out here keeping Mister Wall company all along! That’s so nice of you!” Honey exclaimed, helping Currant to dust himself off a bit more than he was entirely comfortable with.
“Actually, I-” he started to explain, only be be cut off as Honey began to drag him towards the door.
“Actually this, actually that! None of that, let’s get in there and en... joy ourselves?”
That was when Honey discovered for herself just why Currant hadn’t reached the party, as she backed into the impassive earth pony that was continuing to block the door.
“Errr... Mister Wall? You’re not a very good door. Could you shuffle to the side a few paces, please?”
Mister Wall, for his part, was all too willing to oblige... but not in this case. “Sorry Miss Wild, but nopony gets in without an invitation, which he doesn’t have,” he replied, motioning towards Currant with his dauntingly large head.
“Wellllll, what if he’s with me?” Honey asked as sweetly as possible, fluttering her eyes at the bouncer for extra effect.
The stony gaze that was turned from Currant and onto the petite mare was more than enough of an answer to that. “And where’s your invitation?”
Honey blinked once, then twice, before letting go of Currant to pat herself down. “It’s, uh... right here... wait, no... it’s... in my other coat?” she responded innocently.
Mister Wall shook his head. “No invitations, no entry. Sorry.”
“Hey, how come I didn’t get a sorry?” Currant chipped in rather unhelpfully, receiving a jab to his ribs from Honey.
“Probably because you didn’t need to be apologised to, and I’ve never seen you here before,” Mister Wall shot back, before resuming his stoic expression.
Honey had been spending the last few moments blowing up her cheeks in indignation as she glared ineffectually at the earth pony, before blowing a rather loud raspberry at him.
“Fiiiiine! We’ll go find some other party! A better party! With flapjacks and snooker!” she shrilled, causing Currant to wince for a brief moment before he was yanked around and dragged away from what should have been the highlight of his week.
The streets of Manehattan were unusually cold for this time of year, even with night fast approaching, and Honey had taken it upon herself to press against Currant’s side for warmth without thought to ask or to think how he’d feel about it.
Currant was too cold to really care for once, unable to raise even the slightest feeling of discontent, considering she was helping to alleviate the biting cold slightly. Right now, all he really wanted was to get back to his apartment and crawl under the covers of his bed. Unfortunately, Honey had other plans, and as he’d learned in the time he knew her, it was easier to go with the flow than against it.
“Hey, Blackie...?” drifted up from the mare beside him as they stomped along the surprisingly quiet street.
“Yes, Wild?” Currant asked, a bit more sharply than he had intended thanks to a particularly nippy gust of wind that chilled him to the bone.
“Well, I was thinking...”
“Yes?”
“...How about that club there?” Honey asked, surprising Currant. He hadn’t even noticed the nightclub coming up on the other side of the street, and her phrasing had made him think she was being serious about something for a change.
“Uh... it looks fine, I guess?”
“Then let’s goooooo!” she said, bounding forward without a care for traffic, of which there was thankfully none.
That was, of course, until Currant looked both ways and took a step onto the road, and nearly got bowled over by an angry cab puller, forcing him to retreat back to the safety of the curb, by which time said cab driver had delivered his scathing look and disappeared as quickly as he came.
Honey Wild was waiting for Currant, bouncing on her hooves restlessly as he finally made it across the street without trouble on his second try. With nary a word, she once again grabbed him and dragged him through the door, slapping down a couple of bits on the front counter for the mare behind it to wave them in.
The air in the club proper was hazy with smoke, and thick with strobing lights that seemed to wave in time with the pounding of the dance music, uncomfortably loud in its volume. Honey turned to say something to Currant, but her words were lost in the background roar of the surging crowd they were jostling their way through. Without waiting for Currant’s shouted question of just what she had said, she smiled and turned tail, easily disappearing through the press and leaving him stranded in a sea of undulating bodies.
Currant did his best to mimic Honey’s disappearing act, carefully edging his way through the miasma of sweating and drinking ponies, and managing to step on hooves seemingly almost every step of the way until he finally stepped, gasping, from the edge of the crowd.
The music was no less loud at the side of the room he’d managed to reach, but the extra space to move about in was more than enough to please him as he navigated his way into one of several empty booths along the wall, more than a few shining in disco’s light from various spilled drinks. Finding one that seemed to be in a more or less clean condition, he slipped onto the bench and scooted his way around until his back was to the wall so he could keep an eye out for Honey.
Minutes passed uneventfully, the music changing, and the shuffling of the crowd with it to suit the new track. The lights continued to swing to and fro, ponies drinking and having a good time, all the while Currant sat in his booth, a brooding look on his face.
A disturbance in the crowd caught his eye, which all too soon reveal itself to be Honey Wild no doubt tracking him down, two steins held securely in her wings. Spotting Currant, she grinned toothily and plowed her way through the throng, drinks sloshing and all former graceful movement through the living morass gone.
Two loud thumps were quickly followed by a creak as Honey deposited the drinks on the table and flumped down on the unyielding upholstery of the booth, sidling her way around closer to him in what she no doubt imagined was an inconspicuous manner. Once she had deemed herself close enough, she tilted her head to smile up at Currant.
With a sigh inaudible over the music, Currant pulled the two steins closer and grabbed ahold of his own, steeling himself for the inevitable.
“Drinking contest?” he asked, hoping against hope that she’d say no.
Honey’s innocent smile quickly extended into a predatory grin as she nodded.
Currant reluctantly raised the beer mug to lips and began to drink.
Five pints later, Currant gladly admitted his defeat at Honey Wild’s hooves and iron gut. His head was starting to feel heavy, and the prospect of just resting his head on the table was all to tempting. Honey didn’t seem any worse off for all the alcohol she’d consumed, as evidenced by her dancing away to get even more drink, just to rub in her victory.
There was some sort of commotion up on the small stage where the DJ was set up as a pony climbed up to speak to the crazily-maned mare behind the turntables. Currant rolled his head to get a better view of the two ponies talking, before the DJ gave a nod and the other mare took centre stage, a microphone held in her magic. Currant hadn’t even realised the music had stopped until a new track started up, and it became clear why as the unicorn began singing, much to the chagrin of the disco-goers, some of which made their displeasure known.
Undeterred, the inebriated mare continued to belt out the lyrics of her chosen song, and only stopped when she was pulled unceremoniously from the stage by another unicorn in the crowd, the action being greeted by cheers as another pony took up the microphone and finished the song in a much more pleasing voice while the former singer was quietly ushered out with her friend.
Honey’s heavy arrival into the seat next to Currant would normally have surprised him enough to make him jump, but as he was, he only flinched and rolled his eyes lazily to look at his friend. The slight smile she was sending his way set off warning bells in the back of his head, but he was too distracted by the feeling that he was slowing floating upwards to take heed and run for all he was worth.
“Hey, Blackieeeeeee... do you know what time it is?” Honey whispered into his ear as she leaned in close, her breath hot and cloying.
“Nooooo, I dun...” he slurred, lifting his head slowly from the table. It didn’t want to leave, despite the floating sensation infusing his being.
“It’s karaoke tiiiiiiiiiiime!” she trilled way too excitedly, before knocking back her drink and belching in her usual unlady-like manner. She grabbed Currant once more and dragged him from his seat, stomach heaving, and through the crowd towards the stage. Surprisingly, some ponies parted before them, obviously not wanting to get in the way of a couple of drunks, and those that were too captivated by the current earth pony singing on the stage were shoved somewhat rudely aside. None challenged them, however.
Propping Currant up against the edge of the stage to count his hooves, Honey called out something indistinct. The effect was immediate, as snickers spread through the crowd, and the poor mare on the stage took on the look of a rabbit caught in a carriage’s lantern light, a blush overtaking her face. She all too quickly abandoned the stage, several pairs of eyes following her until she had disappeared in the same direction as the first singer. Honey replaced her on the stage, wasting no time in arranging the next song with the disk jockey.
By the time she returned for Currant, he’d managed to get a foreleg around the neck of an innocent bystander, a look of worry on her face every time he swayed towards her. She quietly thanked Honey as she pried the drunk stallion off of her and pulled him up to the stage. After a few moments arranging him facing the crowd, Honey whispered into his ear once more.
“Blaaaackiiiiiiieeeeeeeee... it’s time for you favourite journey sooooong...”
“Oh no,” his mind said.
“Oh yesss,” his mouth responded.
With a wave, the music started up. Currant would later be glad not to remember any of this, but right now, he still had to live through it.
Honey lead off.
