Smoke Break

She stalked out of the concert hall angrily, still shaking her head in disbelief and outrage. The nerve of some ponies. To suggest she could not possibly be the first cellist solely on the grounds she didn`t happen to be unicorn or stallion... Argh. Just argh. The whole thing took almost twenty minutes, and by the end of it she was quite ready to grab the responsible party by the mane and mash her stupid face into the civil law codex until it penetrated her thick skull. Physically, if needs to be.

Octavia leaned on the street lamp, letting out a long angry sigh. She needed a smoke right now. Thankfully, that much she had ready. Hooves trembling slightly, she fumbled with the half-empty pack, catching one of the fags inside nimbly with tonguetip, biting it on the end to draw it out. Lighter cracked as she spun the wheel, catching fire on the third attempt. She really needed to refill it with earth oil tonight.

"Bit for your thoughts?" - Frederick was used to the situation by now. Anytime Octavia would get seriously angry, she`d storm out and could be found outside, burning her irritation along with tobacco. He sympathized. Getting ahead in musical world was tough, even in formally professional fields like classic music.

"Youd be overpaying." - she chuckled bitterly, shaking her head - "That... uncultured, ignorant, tribalistic COW! The laws have had been there for centuries. Oned think that by now everypony would get the hint. But noo, she just had to go and open her fat ignorant mouth!"

Stallion shrugged. "Yeah, well, thats what I wanted to talk to you about." - he proffered, stepping around her smartly to keep upwind. He didnt mind Octavia smoking, not really. But nonetheless, he rather preferred not to stay in the way of her exhaust, if at all possible. "You see, I know a bit or two about it that you do not. And it`s actually rather good she said all this." - he continued, awkwardly.

Octavia fixed him with a glare. "Explain. Just how exactly getting harped at by this bigot is a good thing?" - she bit off sharply, exhaling a veritable cloud as she did. Its a wonder it didnt glow from an anger she seemed to exhale along with the smoke.

"Ah, you see... Its one of them political things." - he proffered, wrinkling his nose as the acrid smell tickled his nostrils - "Weve just had the misfortune of meeting lady Puffy Purse. On her own, well... her only claim to fame is that shes a hereditary courtier. Her claims to infamy are more numerous, but all come back to one thing - shes dumb as dirt. In her mind, what she did right now was a cunning political maneuver meant to discredit you and oust you from the orchestra."

Octavia snorted. "And she wants that why?" - she inquired after a moment of silence, tossing the stump away - "... Wait, let me guess. One of her foals is a cellist and shes thinking shes paving a way for them into "appropriate" position, no?"

"You got it. Well, except for one thing. She never managed to breed, thankfully. So the foal in question is her nephew. Bright lad, really. Pretty good on a cello. Hes slated for Stalliongrad orchestra next year, incidentally, on his request. Apparently, the old Tremolo wants to retire and is setting up his protégé to take over." - he explained patiently - "So, yeah. Just smile and wave and ignore the hag. And please, Octavia... if she shows again, just go out and have a smoke. Im aware youre able and probably willing to cave her face in, but Id very much rather put up with the smell for a while. Alright?"

Octavia rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes." - she offered dismissively, turning around to trot back into the building - "Ill do my best to withhold my brutish, violent, mudpony ways." She never noticed the hurt look on Fredericks face.