Put it on the tab, I'll pay it off when I feel better.
A lone shape moved through the bustling bar, untouched by the jollity all around. It threaded its’ way between tables, dodged an expansive hoof-gesture, and pulled itself onto a stool at the end of the bar.
“Evening.” Darkwood said, looking over and recognizing a regular. “What’ll it be?”
“Something fairly strong.” The Night Guard replied, morosely. “I don’t care much about the taste.”
“Ouch.” The unicorn pulled down a bottle, and poured some out. “Here you go. What’s up?”
The pegasus, Fleetwing, grimaced. Seeing Darkwood about to apologize, he shook his head. “No, no, it’s fine. I may as well tell you.”
Taking a long draught, he sighed and began. “There’s a mare. A day guard unicorn… Rosette. I met her a few months ago, and we’ve been seeing each other fairly often.”
Fleetwing took another drink, and frowned suddenly. “Oh, is my tab clear?”
“As of this afternoon, it was.” Darkwood confirmed.
“Good. Just put what I drink tonight on there, and I’ll pay it off later. I don’t particularly want to be coherent by the end of the evening.” A third draught finished off his mug, and he held it out for a refill. Wordlessly, Darkwood complied.
“Thanks.”
“You don’t have to tell me what’s eating you, you know.”
“Be good to talk it out. Now, where was I…”
“Rosette.”
“Right. So, we’ve been seeing each other, and – it could just be me, but I though things were going fairly well.”
“She not been avoiding you, then?” Darkwood asked.
“No, none of that. Her talent’s actually navigation, so if she wanted to she could, but… nah. Everything’s been fine.”
Fleetwing took another drink, and Darkwood took advantage of the pause to sort out a round of drinks from one table and replenish the peanuts at another.
“So, anyway,” Fleetwing resumed suddenly, and a little louder, “she’s been on a mission with her squad – Sergeant Shield’s lot – for the last few days, and she got back today. Problem is, they’re off again tomorrow morning for Stalliongrad.”
“Ouch.” The landlord murmured. “So you were all ready to see her again...”
“And she’s off for a month or more.” Fleetwing drained his mug. “Now you know.”
“You sure it’s a good idea to drink this much, though?” Fleet looked at him, and Darkwood shrugged. “I’m hardly complaining. Just looking out for you.”
“I’ve done this before. I’m always terrible when things change like this, until I’ve slept on it.”
The unicorn looked dubious. “Not the best property for a guard.”
“Not for an officer.” Fleet flapped his wings up in a shrug, then sighed yet again. “Regular guards just do what they’re told. It’s the point of the training.”
“Suppose it is.” Darkwood allowed.
He broke off from the conversation for a minute, to take Gerta’s first order and point her to Blossom’s table, then brought down a keg from the top shelf.
“Hey, Fleetwing. If you just want to get drunk and don’t care how it tastes, try this.”
The keg cracked as he broached it and drew out a mug.
“What is it?”
“Probably about eighty proof.” The unicorn deposited the mug in front of his customer. “I took some of the bad cider going cheap earlier this year and froze out a lot of the water. Terrible stuff, but it’s useful to cut into water in the field because you can dilute it so much.”
“And it sounds just like what I need.” Fleet downed half the mug in one go, then began to cough. “Starless night!”
“Thought you said you didn’t care how it tastes.”
“I may reconsider.” Fleet gasped out. “This stuff burns like nothing else!”
“Think I’ll chalk it up as a failed experiment, then.” Darkwood said regretfully. “You want more?”
Fleet’s face took on a conflicted air. “I honestly don’t know. Leave me a mug or two and I’ll see how it goes.”
“Will do.” The unicorn replenished Fleet’s mug, and went over to deal with some other orders.
“You okay?” Darkwood asked Fleet, who was by this point half-slumped over the bar. “It tasting better?”
“Yes.” Fleet replied, raising his head with an effort and enunciating clearly. “Either this has improved with exposure to air, or I’m developing a taste for it, or I’m just too drunk to care.”
“Well, that’s one good result.” Darkwood muttered. “Look, tell you what. You keep drinking, and I’ll arrange some kind of bed in the back for you. You have tomorrow off, right?”
“Yep!” Fleetwing nodded exaggeratedly, and fumbled in his pouch. “Twenty-four hour pass, got it just before sunset.”
“No need to show me, I believe you.” The bar pony said. “Just wanted to check you’re not needed tomorrow for the day shift. You’ve drunk enough that you’d probably still have a hangover.”
“How much iszat?” Fleet asked, starting to slur his words, and taking another mouthful of drink.
“I’d guess about twelve units so far.” Lighting his horn, Darkwood performed a modified form of divination spell. “Yep, about that.”
“Sounds like quite a lot.”
“It is, yes – that’s about eight pints of ale. But you should be fine. It takes about an hour per unit for the body to recover. That said, best not to fly tomorrow morning – you’ll crash.”
“I’ve got a twenty four hour pass, so same again then!” Fleetwing pushed his mug towards the keg, and Darkwood caught it with his telekinesis before it fell off the counter.
“Whatever you want.” The unicorn gave a shrug. “At least it’s fairly cheap.”
“Alright, off with you. I called last orders ten minutes ago, and I need to get my sleep sometime.” Darkwood pointedly glowered at the last occupied table, and after a moment two night guard unicorns and a diamond dog sloped out the door.
The bartender sighed, picking up the detritus of the night with half his mind on other things. One mug was cracked – a quick flare of restoration magic fixed it, and then the splashes of ale on various tables levitated into the air and neatly into the sink.
One of the beer mats had some semi-coherent scrawling on it. Rather than just throw it away, Darkwood put it under the bar – someone might want to find it later. It looked like some kind of early draft of a letter.
“Either that or a first novel.” The unicorn chuckled at his own joke.
A light snore reminded him of the last customer left in the building. Fleetwing was hunched over the corner of the bar, wings hanging limply and mouth half open.
Curiously, Darkwood gathered up a bit-sized ball of the potent cider and levitated it to his mouth.
It only took a moment to determine that the drink had not improved. He rinsed his mouth out with water, then tried the same amount of cider diluted in a mug of water.
“Not nearly so bad…” he mused. “Still not exactly great, but could work. Ah well.”
Returning to business, he enveloped Fleetwing in his magic, lifted him gently and carried him to the spare room. A moment’s thought and he turned off the alarm, and made sure both blinds and curtains were closed – the pegasus would have a killer headache when he awoke.
“Hope you and her enjoy yourselves next time you can.” Darkwood whispered, and shut the door.
He shook his head as he returned to the main room, then finished clearing up and made himself a meal in the attached kitchen.
Not every pony could manage sleeping most of the day, but it was certainly a rewarding line of work one way or another.
AN: Maybe I’m just British, but the unit of alcohol is a reasonably commonly used term around here in colloquial language. (Note that units differ between countries).
Oh, and a health warning: Fleetwing gets more drunk here than you probably should.
Rosette is a unicorn from one of my other fics, An Oath, and Fleetwing is a name I invented for the pegasus sat at the bar in the source picture.
A pegasus, another pegasus and a griffin...
Cloud Skipper followed his fellow guard into the pub – “The Shady Trough”, by the sign.
The dark, woody smell of aged ale greeted his nostrils. By the looks of it, maybe Midnight Blossom hadn’t been boasting too much when she said she knew a good place to spend their evening off…
“Hey.”
The barpony spoke up, levitating a glass and telekinetically stripping it of the water that had cleaned it out. Skipper noticed that, like Blossom, he was a dark-complected pony with slit pupils – though, obviously, a unicorn rather than a bat-winged pegasus.
“We don’t serve your kind here.”
Blossom frowned as she walked up to the bar, and made to speak, but Skipper pre-empted her. “Why not?”
“Not sure.” The unicorn shrugged. “Could be just chance, for all I know. Whatever the reason, we’re popular with the Night Guard but the Day Guard tend to pass us by. Could be the lack of lager?” He shook his head. “Anyway, I was just making an observation. It’s good to see a fresh face.”
Skipper shot a glance at Blossom. “You didn’t say there wasn’t any lager.”
“I didn’t say anything at all about the drinks except that they were good. Look, just try the ale. You’ll like it, I promise. Or the cider – they’ve got some of the Apple Acres stuff.” The bat-pegasus dragged a chair out from a nearby table. “Hey, is Gerta in?”
“She’s not turned up yet.” The barkeep shrugged.
“Well, if she does turn up, send her over here. I fancy a game of poker, and it doesn’t work with just two.”
“Yeah, I gotcha. What’ll it be?”
“To start?” Blossom glanced at Skipper. “Let’s say, two of the Pierce’s Wicked.”
“Coming up.” The unicorn brought a pair of mugs from under the counter, flipped the spigot and filled both from a cask of ale on the third level before levitating them over.
“Thanks, Darkwood.”
“Any time. And I’ll send Gerta over if she turns up.”
“Thanks. Come on, Skip, this stuff is great.” Blossom gestured to the table she’d picked. “Best table in the house. This is why we turned up early.”
Two hours later and the pub was bustling. Darkwood hadn’t been blowing hot air – it looked like the entire off-duty Night Guard was in here, including Meadowlark and Sunshine at the next table.
One major difference between Day and Night, it seemed, was the relative formality. Shining Armour might occasionally go out for a night with some of his command, but generally it was the other officers and to a restaurant.
The commanders of the Night Guard, meanwhile, were telling some kind of tall story to the other pegasus at that table about sea ponies on the moon or something.
“So, what you got?”
Gerta – a griffin, as it turned out, and one who knew Blossom well – threw her cards down in disgust. “Nothing. I fold.”
After a pause to let the lone Day Guardsman fold as well, Blossom shrugged and laid hers out. “Full house, read it and weep.”
“You got me.” Skipper said, revealing his own five cards. “Ace high – I had vague hopes you’d think I had more.”
“’s the luck of the draw.” Blossom drew in the pot. “Tell you what, since I seem to be lucky tonight, I’ll get the next round. What do you say? Cider all round?”
“Sounds good to me.” Gerta said, then glowered for a moment at the pegasus’ pile of bits. “We’re basically paying for it anyway.”
“You mean I’m paying for it.” Skipper pointed out. “I’m the one who keeps losing all the time.”
“Know what?” Blossom said. “We should try a different game. Something a bit more tactical. No offence, Skip, but you’re too easy to read.”
“I’d gathered.” The white pegasus said, deadpan, and finished his mug. Darkwood collected them from afar, refilled them in response to Blossom’s order and caught the bits she threw over.
“So, here’s how this works. We each start with a third of the deck, and we have to keep trumping others’ cards. But some of the cards have special effects…”
By the time the night guard finished explaining the rules, both other flyers at the table looked a little lost.
“Eh, you’ll pick it up. And instead of playing for bits, loser has to down their drink. I’ll keep ‘em coming, don’t worry.”
“What’s the catch?” Cloud Skipper asked warily.
“At the end of twelve rounds, we play poker again. Since whoever’s been winning will be a lot more sober, they’ll have an advantage.”
Gerta laughed. “I like it.”
Skipper considered. If he came out with several victories under his peytral, then he had a chance to make back some of what he’d lost.
And if he did lose all the time, as was the case so far, then at least he’d be good and drunk. Which wasn’t a terrible idea either.
“Alright, let’s do it then.”
Blossom pushed her pile of bits forward. “All in.”
Both the others’ eyes widened. “You sure?”
“Sure I’m sure.” The night guard said, slowly and deliberately. “Now, are you gonna match me?”
Gerta shook her head. “Not with this hand.” She dumped a pair on the table, and slouched back.
“I’ll call.” Skipper decided, pushing his own stake forward, and revealing his hand. “Flush of bolts.”
Blossom put her own hand down. “Straight flush, bolts four to eight! Read it’n weep!”
Skipper sighed, and began to move the pot over to her.
“Wait a sec.” Gerta said, pointing at Skipper’s hand. “Your flush has the five of bolts in it.”
After a moment, the Day Guard got her gist and looked. Sure enough, there it was.
“But that means…”
Gerta started to laugh. “How many games did she lose again?”
“I think it was nine, I lost count.”
The griffin practically fell off her chair laughing. “That gives new meaning to blind drunk!” Breathing heavily, she rallied. “Look, that’s the five of stars in her hand, she must be too drunk to tell the difference. You’ve won, mate – all she has is a straight.”
“Huh.” Cloud Skipper checked his hand again, then his fellow guards’, and realized she was right. “Thanks for spotting that.”
“No problem.” Gerta sniggered. “I’ll rag her about it for the next month, you can bet. Hey, you know where she sleeps, right?”
“Yes.” Skipper nodded. “The palace barracks. The… third building from the entrance.”
“I think it’d be safer if you walked her home. She’s in no condition to fly.”
“After tonight, I don’t think I’m in a condition to fly.” The day guard said. “Right, can you give me a hand? Just get her wing over my back and I’ll be able to keep her upright.”
“Sure thing.”
“Sometimes I wish I had opposable claws…” Blossom muttered, as they hoisted her up out of her chair.
“They’re a right pain to trim.” Gerta replied. “Hey, Darkwood? The tab current?”
“Yeah, nothing outstanding.”
“Good, good. She’s had a bit much to drink, so we’re taking Blossom home.”
“We?” Skipper asked.
“Hey, I’m the most sober one here. Besides, do you really want to carry her pack of cards as well? You drop them, it’ll be nearly impossible to pick ‘em up without dropping her.”
“Fair point.”
Gerta chuckled to herself. She had an… ulterior motive, as well. This was the perfect chance to take a photo or two and embarrass them both.
It was only fair.
AN: So, yes, this particular picture seemed to cry out for a story. As far as I can tell, the artist is okay with the picture being used so long as he's credited.
The two guards are his characters as far as I am able to trace them, the griffin and the barpony doesn't seem to have names (so I invented some) and the two night guard pegasi at the table to the left (Sunshine and Meadowlark) are from Woonastuck (and showed up in the picture as well).
