Jack of Hearts, Queen of Diamonds

You consider yourself a jack who likes his job.

You like the grateful smiles of a pony who's found his or her perfect style. You like the harmless bouts of banter as they scan the many racks of clothes, or their “Aha!” moments when they pick out the right accessory they feel goes best with their attire. Today, however, has left you with an apprehensive chip on your shoulders.

Maud said she'd be at the party if she were successful. That's tonight. But you gave her no way to get in contact with you prior to that. The clock on the wall tells you it's nearly time of the afternoon tea break before closing. She could be getting ready for the cider-bash right now, as happy as can be, ready to celebrate the success of her meeting.

Or she could already be on the train back to her rock farm, wallowing in failure. If it's the latter, you can't help but feel sorry for her. The real pain is that you'll never know until the party. And to be frank, the tea breaks just let your mind wonder in one of two directions; either you start worrying about whether or not Maud got her wish, or you start fondly recalling Maud's beauty.

Just as you're about to prepare more caffeine to sip down, the shopkeeper's bell brings you back into focus. None other than Sapphire Shores herself stands in the doorway, striking a pose fit for a theatre pantomime.

"Well, not only would I call this shop The Smart Ass," she sassily declares, "I would call this the Smartest Shop in Canterlot!" Normally, any and every other clothing store owner in Canterlot would be gobsmacked to see such a famous pony in their shop. You, on the other hoof, are smarter than that.

"Sapphire Shores." You give her the service-with-a-smile grin that you greet every customer with. "Such a pleasure to see you! But I thought you were currently doing a stage production in Fillydelphia."

Sapphire's eyes become blank for the briefest of moments. "Oh! Uh, it was cancelled before I left due to, uh, Parasprite attacks again. Yeah."

"What about the Vanhoover gig? That's still on, right?"

"Ah, of course! That's why I'm here, you see. I need an, er, outfit for whatever that gig is."

"That's nice," you reply. "Because I just made those two events up. Drop the act, Tarsus."

"Tch!" Sapphire Shores stamps her hooves in frustration, and in a flash of green magic, the form of a male changeling takes her place, shiny black chitin and all. "Admit it, I had you going for a minute there, donkey boy!"

"As if," you jest back at him.

While changelings are often treated with suspicion within Canterlot's walls, you've come to trust this particular one. It's a fair deal, honestly; You let him bunk at your apartment regularly - while he technically sleeps in the "guest room", he gets special permission to use it whenever he's there. In return, Tarsus works at the shop to act as a model for clothes of all different shapes and sizes; a major benefit of being able to assume any body type you want.

"Are you coming to the cider-bash tonight?" you ask.

"Don't I always?" he grins, giving you a friendly hoof-bump. "The acceptance in that place always has enough love to keep me ticking by for weeks! Speaking of love..." he leans on your counter, giving quite noticeable flirty eyes. "Will a certain hunky minotaur be there as well?"

"Who, Straton? He's usually there, yeah. I heard you two were, uh, sleeping in the guest room last cider bash." Despite there being no-one else in the shop, you lean in and lower your voice all the same. "Did you two really hit it off?"

"Oh yeah. We totally did." the changeling makes what ponies would call a 'squee', displaying his fangs. "Multiple times."

"Does he know you're a changeling?"

"Very much so."

"Does he know you're a guy?"

"Yes, he's totally cool with it. Turns out he swings both ways!" Tarsus leans in a smidge closer. "I should know; when I say 'multiple times', I mean multiple forms as well, and he loved each one."

You whistle in surprise. "Never would've guessed, seeing how confident he is with mares. Anyway," you say, bringing the attention back to the time at hand. "You might as well make yourself comfortable in the back kitchen. I'll be done with my shift soon. And yes, you can have tea if you're making me one as well."

"Yeah, yeah, I know,” Tarsus waves away your joshing. He knows the drill by now.

*******

Two hours later, you unlock the door to your apartment, allowing a hulking minotaur to roll four barrels' worth of cider through at once.

"Next time we need more cider," Tarsus pants, changing back into his original form, "get the real minotaur to do it!"

"The real minotaur volunteers most of the time," you reply. "Straton really digs heavy lifting for some reason. Probably a cultural thing."

Letting your changeling friend set up the vinyl records as usual, you strategically place the barrels throughout the flat. Two in the main room, where the record player resides. One in the kitchen, where most of the snacks would be stored, and some visitors like to chat away from the music. And one in the dining room, where card games are often played.

Slowly, the regulars start to turn up; your donkey friends, two of which are dating a set of griffon twins. A cluster of open-minded ponies - of all three races, mind - you've had the pleasure of meeting during business hours. The happily married zebra couple, bearing their usual tupperware tubs of hot curry and naan bread. A young, sassy dragon girl, who brings a bag of corn kernels. You point her towards the kitchen so she can whip up her "homemade popcorn" in peace, without even needing to turn on the stove.

Two buffalo show up, brandishing their wild rice salad. One buffalo is well known for being a hit with the regular ponies (mares especially, you don't know how he does it). Three breezies, unable to carry their own food or drink gift, considering their size. This is fine by you; give them a shot-glass of cider and a potato chip each, and they're full-bellied for the whole night.

And finally, your aforementioned minotaur friend, Straton, bringing a whole tub of cottage cheese. He likes his protein.
"Stratty, baby!" your changeling friend flitters up to him. The minotaur romantically catches Tarsus in his muscular arms, leaving you to catch the dropped dairy.

"Well hello to you too, gorgeous," he chuckles, pecking the changeling on the cheek. All in all, they make a rather cute couple.

But still no Maud. She must've failed her meeting.

"Are you okay, dude?" Tarsus asks, still being held damsel-style by his - well, you suppose boyfriend now.

"I'm fine, but I was really expecting someone else to turn up tonight," you sigh. "I hoped they'd show up, but I guess it's not meant to be." Your heart sinks just a little bit as you say it out loud.

"Who, the Diamond Dog guy?" Straton asks.

"What? No, I meant a pony called Mau-" Oh wait! You invited that Diamond Dog too! "Uh, listen, could you two do me a favour and let more guests in while I'm away? I gotta see if our canine friend even remembers his invite!"

A few minutes later, you're gently knocking on a certain beast's apartment door; you've never actually knocked on for him before, so it's best to be as courteous as you can. You hear some grunting, the sound of a prosthetic leg being snapped on, and a hobbling thud-clack, thud-clack sound drawing closer to the door. The door opens, revealing the bulky mass of a Diamond Dog that looms over you. Of course, you're undeterred. You know he's a good guy, really.

"Oh hey, there you are!" you greet him with a cheerful smile. "I was just wondering if you're still up for that cider bash I mentioned earlier."

A brief moment of realisation flashes upon the brute's face, as if he's only just remembered. "Sure, why not?" he replies, brandishing his serrated teeth in a way that was probably meant to be friendly.

Upon returning to the party and ushering your new friend through the apartment door, you discover that Tarsus has already broken out the classic, rollicking songs. He's even showing off his latest transformations to his little circle of friends, including his latest Sapphire Shores impersonation. That's fair, it's about that time in the night.

The Diamond Dog is still in shock about the party; you wager he's dumbfounded by the diversity. You offer him the chance to play some poker in the dining room, but he turns it down, preferring to mingle with the others in the main room. You don't blame him.

On your way to the poker table, Tarsus stops his disguising trick to catch up to you.

"Did anyone else turn up while I was out?" you ask.

"Yeah. An earth pony mare," he shrugs. "Didn't recognise her though."

Wait. Could that be-?

"Grey fur, violet mane?" you take a shot in the dark.

"How'd you know?"

Maud! She made it! "Where did she go?"

"Dining room, I think."

"Thanks." You head there, trying not to make yourself look too eager. All the same, you can't help but have a spring in your step.

The door to the dining room was already open; the solid, round table in the centre of the room was already being used for a poker table. Glancing around the table, it seems like the game of the day is Appleloosa Hold'em; a popular choice for hoofed folk, as they only have to hold two cards at a time. The rest are dealt by a unicorn who isn't playing. but simply presiding over it between sips of his mug, happy to sit and banter with the others.

To your surprise, Maud Pie's not only joining in on the game... she's also winning.

The plastic, circular poker chips seem to be favouring Maud's side of the table, surrounding a barely-touched tankard of cider and, oddly enough, the same pebble she was carrying in the shop when you last met her. Not only is she causing the other two players to sweat, but she's also drawing quite the crowd around her.

Trying to keep a calm demeanour, you stroll up to the unicorn dealing the cards, and spark up a quick chat as you pour yourself a cider from the nearby barrel.

"So, what are the stakes on this?" you ask.

"Nothing, this is just a social game; the chips aren't attached to any real coin. The earth pony said she's never played before and wanted to try it out."

"She's doing well for a first timer," you think aloud. You know full well that Maud can hear you. In fact, you give her a smile when she briefly takes her eyes away from her cards. Whether or not she's happy to see you is anyone's guess.

"She's doing great," the unicorn responds. "If she's never played the game before, she's certainly been practising a poker-face."

The other two players - another donkey and one of the griffon twins - exchange worried glances when Maud asks how many chips they both have left.

"Uh, out of the fifty we started with, we both have ten chips each," the griffon scratches her beak uneasily. "You've got the rest of them, pony."

The unicorn reveals the flop - the first three cards that make up a shared pool in the centre of the table.

"That's nice," said Maud, pushing some plastic disks forward. "I'll raise ten chips."

"Gah! Of course you would!" the griffon tries not to make her voice squawk. "But I'm onto you now, pony! I'm calling your bluff! All in for me!"

The other donkey hums to himself, looking between the three cards in the centre, and the two under his hooves.

Wordlessly, he pushes the last of his chips forward as well. When the last of the shared cards are dealt, and each player's hand is revealed, to say that Maud won that game is quite the understatement.

"Huh. You weren't bluffing after all," the griffon blinks dumbly. "Good game. Thankfully we weren't playing for real money."

"Would anyone here like to?" the unicorn queries.

"Pfft, not against her, I'm not. Might as well throw the Bits off Canterlot mountain and get it over with," and with that, both the griffon and the donkey make their excuses and head to another room; presumably to dance, and almost certainly to drink. Maud remains in her seat at the table, neatly stacking the plastic chips and cards into the centre as the crowd disperses, card-dealing unicorn and all.

You decide this is the best time to make your move.

"Wow, you did great back there!" you chirp, taking one of the previously occupied seats to face Maud Pie, poker-winner of exactly zero bits. "Glad you could make it to the party! Does this mean your meeting was a success?"

"Yes. Thank you." Even for Maud, those words felt devoid of feeling. She goes back to making the chip-piles nice and neat.

"Is something wrong?"

The earth pony's hooves stop when she hears that. One of them starts stroking the nearby pebble - you assume at this point it's a good-luck charm of some kind - on instinct.

"You're the first one to ask me that so far tonight," she finally says. "Or maybe you're the first one to notice. I don't know." She pauses for a moment in thought, then takes a sip from her wooden mug.

"Wanna talk about it?"

She lowers her cider. "No."

You wait for a moment to see if she's going to follow that up with anything else. She doesn't. You opt for a solution more suited to parties.

"Wanna forget all about it? Just for tonight?" you hold your own tankard of cider aloft, offering her the chance to toast you with her own. Maud looks at your mug in silence, weighing her options.

"A fair warning," she says, "I come from a family with a party animal in it. I could probably drink you under the table."

"And seeing as I'm a stubborn donkey," you reply, "I'll have to ask you to prove that."

You could've sworn the corners of her mouth curled upwards for a moment when she heard that. Without another word, you both knock your wooden mugs together with a nice, solid CLACK, and simultaneously quaff the cool, tangy cider within. Maud's empty mug hit the table only slightly quicker than yours did. She exhales sharply from the rush of drinking, her face as much of a stony mask as ever.

"So that's one each?" she asks.

You nod, and gesture towards the keg on the nearby shelf. "While everyone else is partying in the other rooms, we might as well take advantage of that free keg."