Through the eyes of a doorman

You spend the next few hours mulling over your dilemma. What if Octavia was cheating, do you tell Vinyl? If you don't, you'll lose her as a friend forever when she finds out; it would just be a matter of time. If you told on Octavia, then she would never forgive you. Even if she wasn't cheating, you don't think Vinyl will buy it that easily. Yep, no matter how you cut it, you were in one massive clusterbuck of a mess.

It seemed like the massive amount of rich ponies who come through this hotel daily decided to give you the early afternoon to ponder this. By the time three o'clock rolled by, you had just about made up your mind about these things. Just when you think nothing exciting will happen today, the elevator dinged and your favorite blank flank burst through, looking as though he was being hunted.

He was a tiny little earth pony with a purple coat and an alabaster white mane. Purple Quill was his name, but he just liked to be called Quill. His father was a rather famous musician. He would come down every time his father was in town and chat for a while. He got home schooled for the most part, but he is one of the brightest foals you have ever met. You two could talk for hours on end about what is going on in the far reaches in Equestria and debate what people are doing right and wrong. He is very advanced and mature for his age and is one of the ponies who helped you the most with adjusting to Equestrian culture.

He dashed out of the elevator as fast as his little legs could carry him. You told him not to run in the lobby, but that only seemed to alert him to your presence. He turned towards you, sliding a bit on the tile, and started making a sprint right at you. You were about to warn him about his mid-lobby track practice again when you realized he was not slowing down. Instead of stopping at your desk like a normal pony, Quill decided that today he would leap onto and over your desk and tackle you to the ground while giving a mighty roar of "Hide me!"

After a short wrestling match, you were able to get Quill to settle down while you remounted your chair. While he seemed a tad bit calmer, he was still peeking over your desk, as if checking his back. Once you reverted your appearance to make it look like you hadn't just reversed the rolls of a horse ride, you asked him who he was hiding from.

"My father, Filly Grand, we got in a big fight."

This wasn't the first time Quill had gotten in a fight with Filly, usually about small things like where to go to dinner, who was in the right politically, where is the line drawn between techno and dub step. All their fights were described by Quill as unnecessary, idiotic, and avoidable, but he never described a fight as big before. You tell Quill that it can't be that big, fathers tend to forgive. Besides, you had met Filly; he seemed like a perfectly reasonable and rational colt. You doubt he would hold a grudge, against his son no less.

"It's more than a simple argument." he said, attempting to make a pattern of the tiled floor. "My father makes me practice piano, not a whole lot, but enough that it takes up a lot of my time. I don't even like the piano, I just went along with it to make him happy, but I’m done with it now, I can't take it!" Tears started to come to the young foal's eyes as he recalled the event. "I had been playing for two hours when I decided to make my own little version of the piece; I went sharp instead of flat. He told me that if I always changed the rules, I would never become a great musician, I told him off. I yelled at him about my skill with numbers and my love of math and all things logical and he just lost it. He started yelling about how cutthroat the business world was today and how I would be wiped out trying to apply myself for my dream."

You try to comfort Quill as he cries under your desk. You know how fathers can be; it's not as if yours never gave you a hard time. You have no doubt in your mind that his father has only the best intentions for him and just wants to try to set his son up for the best life he can. He was just trying to help you set up the life he could shape you best in. After all, he never said Quill couldn't do it.

"You think so?"

You know so.

*Ding*

In fact, you'll prove it. Filly Grand, with his white mane and slick black coat and piano keys cutiemark, walks out of the elevator and starts for your desk. You keep Quill under the desk and tell him to keep quiet.

"I'm sorry to bother you," he starts, looking worried out of him mind, "but you talk to my son, Quill, have you seen him?"

He looked extremely stressed, was something wrong?

He sighed and leaned on the desk, looking as though he was going to fall apart. "Look, I’m trying to be the best father I can be, but what do you do when you child flat out objects to you? I have been trying to set up Quill to be in the music business his entire life. With a name like mine, he could be utterly awful and he would still sell out. He has got it in his head to go into big business, which is as it sounds, big. He would have tons of competition and would face almost certain failure. And if not, you know how much corruption there is, what if he can't take it? It's not that I think he won't make it; I have every confidence that he could do it. It's just..." He starts to droop, almost falling into a pile on your desk.

He does not want to send his son into an environment where he can't help him.

Filly's ears perk up at your response, knowing you can help. "Exactly! But I don't want to raise my son to resent me for just trying to be the best father I can be. How can I let him explore his dream while keeping him away from corruption?"

You decided to tell him a story to help him understand. A sculptor stood before a great block of ice and decided to chisel a statue out of it. Into every pound of the mallet he put the tortured experiences of long years of toil. Into every twist of the chisel there was a grace born of talent and sweat. Slowly, carefully, the figure of a hero emerged. At long last, when the work was done, a monument worthy of acclaim stood before him.

The fruit of the artist serves no other purpose than as the gift to another. This labor of love he bequeathed to his son. The son received it with appropriate gratitude, put it somewhere among his goods , and shortly forgot about it.

The ice man melted. The noble, upraised arm became a stump; the muscled torso, a ridged pillar; the strong legs, spindles.

Recalling the love with which his father had bestowed the gift, the son decided to salvage the monument and put his own efforts and talents to bear upon it. After long and hard labor, the ice man reemerged as a magnificent water bird.

You explain to Filly that by simply being a good father and setting a good example, he is already shaping his son to be the best person he can be, only Quill's own life experiences can shape him after that.

Filly smiles as you finish your story, a bright look in his eyes. "You're right, I need to keep being a good model for Quill. I need to support what he wants to do with himself, even if he wants to go where I can't protect him." He brings himself off of your desk, turning to go back to the elevator. "But how can I convince Quill that I just want to support him?"

You tilt your head to signal towards your desk, you're sure he'll understand.

Filly gives you a sly wink and enters the elevator to go back up to his room. When the door closes, Quill gets out from under the desk, a small smile on his face. "If he really wants to support me, I think I’m willing to forgive him."

You're glad they could both get over their problems. You give Quill a small hug and send him back up to his room. At least now you only had one mini drama war to worry about. Now it was only a matter of getting a plan together to get the scoop on Octavia. Which would be a lot easier if she did not just walk in the door.

Author's Notes: I'm going to be honest, this did not turn out the way I wanted it to. I had this idea about the story and how I was going to insert the ice man tale and it just fell apart while I wrote it. Not only that but it took me forever to get it finished. I would very much like comments and any tips would be accepted with much gratitude. Thank you for reading and I hope I can make the last part worth the read.