Screw Driver wasn't the happiest pony, nor was he the luckiest. Personal issues and a lack of social experience hindered him. A dead-end job sucked most of his life away and soured his outlook on it. In the bleakness that characterized his life, the only solace he had was his friend, the only pony he'd known well enough to give that title.

The same friend he had driven away just one week ago because of his selfishness.

So he sat, alone save for the staff, in a bar in the back-ends of Canterlot, drinking away his sorrows.

He was, to any outside observers, just another bar-goer. Much unlike the pony who soon sat down next to him.