Button's Manehatten Minute

Run to Another Alley

Button’s eyes darted back and forth, trying to understand, to process even. But this was out of his depth. He didn’t even get the hookers in Grand Pony Auto, let alone be solicited by one! And then the other two, with at least one that was drunk off her ass, while the other looked so intimidating. She even brought up acid, so was that a threat of what she would do to him?

No. He wasn’t willing to do this. He needed out. He didn’t listen to the voices behind him, and instead dashed into the next alley. Pressed against the wall, he was pretty visible to anyone who even glanced in his direction. The two coherent mares knew these streets well though, and chasing someone could just end up being a trap. So, Button stayed right where he was, panting and heaving.

After what felt like an eternity to him, and was actually just five minutes, Button’s eyes swivelled to the area around him. As far as alleys went, it wasn’t… terrible? A few metal trash cans, some cardboard boxes, and only one homeless person! In fact, the orange stallion didn’t look that bad, though maybe a touch sleepy.

Button carefully stepped across the alley, his eyes glued to the old, scruffy man. Just because he didn’t look threatening, that didn’t mean that he couldn’t be. In fact, if he believed in common phrases, the quieter, the worse. Well, at least, as long as they weren’t dead.

And as he shook the stallion’s shoulder, he found out why the man would be no trouble at all. For a moment, his heart stopped, especially as he noticed the gun that was in his lap. However, upon closer inspection, the blood stains on his clothes weren’t from any wounds he could find, and he couldn’t find a place where the man shot himself. Then again, Button couldn’t really do a close examination, what with the blood all.

He stepped away from the corpse as tears came to his eyes. This place… this place wasn’t for him. No matter what Priscilla, his mom, or anypony else told him, this place wasn’t for him. How could it be?

Then again, he was just running at this point. Who said the two mares meant him any harm? Or, for that matter, what possible reason could anyone to come after him like they did this man? And if he thought he was wrong, he could just take the dead man’s pistol, no matter how wrong that might feel.

But he could also just leave.

Leave to the arcades.

Pick up the gun.