"It's amazing, the kind of habits you pick up when you're all alone."

She hadn't meant to say it out loud. That was when she knew something was wrong. It had come out bitter, almost slurred. It had to be a mistake because the last time she checked, admitting to any fault was so far below her station that it never crossed her mind. Confusion swirled in her head and on her tongue. No, this was wrong. Wrong for her. What had happened to her? Time was, she could have had an army of suitors at her door, waiting to be used by her. Or uppity noblemen thinking to take advantage of her. Or a legion of fans trying desperately to sneak backstage and get a piece of her. What had become of her? And why was she so wet? Her mouth was filled with a taste like stale cinnamon.

"What?" Adagio Dazzle blinked the green haze from her eyes, and she looked down. "Ah. Right."

The man slumped over at her feet had fog in his eyes and drool running down his chin. He'd be out for a while, like they always were. Adagio's mind focused, and she remembered where she was.

A somewhat drunken man had met an impossibly gorgeous woman with prodigious hips and flowing orange curls sitting on his favorite barstool. He'd given her a couple of sloppy compliments. She'd given him a short giggle, a light conversation, and a lascivious look, and then they were in the alleyway behind the bar.

She'd pawed at his chest and purred out promises as her knee rose between his legs. The city lights peaking into the alleyway danced over her voluptuous form. He'd moaned and bucked his hips and called her baby. She'd laughed and unzipped his fly. He'd stared into her haunting magenta eyes, and then a stream of greenish energy came flooding out of his mouth and into hers. He tasted like too much cinnamon whiskey. The siren drank deep of his emotions. Maybe too fast, because she stumbled as her head was flooded with them.

Confusion, anger, humor, arousal, so much arousal, all raged across her palate like a storm-thrashed sea, coating her tongue. And then she had caught herself lamenting her life as of late and the indignity of it all slapped her out of her emotional stupor.

She spat at the ground. It had been barely a mouthful of feelings. She wiped her boot muck on the man's sleeve.

"It will have to do." She had to get moving; couldn't get caught again. He wouldn't remember most of this, but he was the third man she'd drank in as many weeks. If she didn't take a break, there'd be too much hearsay about her to keep operating in this city. Her heels clacked loudly on the pavement as she strode out of the alley, a slight stumble in her step.

The City of Canterlot was about what you'd expect if you were a cynic. A big, gaudy ugly thing, straight steel and sun warped glass and towers and all that, and an uppity population filled with some of the biggest pricks in all of the good ol' U.S.E. It was a town built on broken promises.

Buck remembered. The adults had said that it was the land of opportunity, that there was always work and possibility in Canterlot. When you left high school, you'd be ready to take on the world.

That was about eleven years and seven shitty jobs ago for Buck. He remembered all the shiny graduation banners that showed Canterlot as an equally shiny metropolis, and it probably was one at some point. Now, however, in the late spring rain, in his apartment room on the west side, at his desk, all Buck could see was a waste of potential.

"Or maybe that's just my reflection. Damn. Damn, that's brutal why did I write that?" He muttered.

His room was dark, lit up by only his desk lamp and the light of his PC. When did it get so dark out there? How long had it been raining? How long had he been writing? He squinted through the dark at the clock on his wall. Then he remembered that the clock had been broken for two weeks, so he checked his computer's clock instead. It was 2:30 am. Half-hour past his bedtime.

"And what've I written in that time?" He said, cracking his back.

It was a five-page manuscript of emo poetry. Decent emo poetry, he guessed, but it was supposed to be a feature about a young woman making it onto the CCU track team, a historic first for Canterlot City University. The notes from the easy-ass interview were on the corkboard behind the desk. He'd forgotten they were there. He'd forgotten he was there, too. Instead of doing his gig, he'd just sort of zoned out and listened to the rain.

He'd been thinking about the number 30. Thirty was a dark and devious figure waiting for him like a bandit down the road. It had been preparing to spring out and smack him in the back with a baseball bat. 30 was waiting for him, and Buck had been trying his best to take his time walking down that road. He believed that if he squinted, he could just barely spot 30 waving a sign that, helpfully, had a cheery message printed on it to the tune of "Past Your Fucking Prime."

So he was depressed, that was it.

"Great. Just great. No article, still no girlfriend, just another wasted night." He groaned into his hands as they covered his face. Buck was a bundle of aches and pains. He had been sitting in that "shrimp" position for way too fucking long. Being a washout was exhausting.

"At least I have you to look forward to." He turned to look at the little slice of hope he had on his wall. A poster showing a sunny shore. The words on the bottom of the poster read "Lord Hoof Island". Next to that name was an image of a shining black opal, and beneath that was a stool with a jar nearly full to bursting with cash. Buck smiled and yawned. His knuckles cracked as he flexed his fingers. It would all be worth it.

Buck decided, rather diplomatically, to jerk off, go to bed, and actually write the damn article in the morning. He grabbed a small bottle from under the desk; might've been cider, might've been warm beer, and he headed for his bedroom.

Adagio cursed the sun and everything it stood for. She glared hatefully up at the skylight in her bathroom and nearly slipped on the tile as she tried to hobble out of her tub. The one she'd been sleeping in. Alone.

"Eergh. Disgusting. Those emotions gave me a hangover. What a pathetic excuse for a man." She hissed, painfully. Her foot was asleep and her hair was a damp, tangled mess. She shifted, then winced and looked down. She had thrown up in the tub at some point.

After a deep breath, a quick shower, and an extended bath, Adagio picked herself up and toweled off. Revolting. When had things gotten like this? She stumbled to wrap a robe around herself, then sat heavily before her mirror and started her meticulous hair routine. A platinum record hung next to the mirror. It had Sonata's name on it. Was it months or years since then? Adagio's tongue tasted like stale regret, but that couldn't be the case, because she was perfect and regret was for the imperfects of the world.

As she popped open a bottle of clarifying shampoo and wet her luxurious orange locks, she looked over her voluptuous body. Her second-best asset.

Adagio had been a terror in her time, her beastly emphatic magic granting her sway over all in her path. Her ability to drain the emotions and magic of others gave her near-immortality and agelessness. But even now without her magic, the greatest tool in her arsenal was her power of observation. Minute details captured in the twitch of an eye, with all knowledge easily turned into options.

This was not magic, nor an inborn trait; it was the razor-sharp scrutiny that could only be crafted over centuries of practice. She was always the smartest of her generation, and she knew to trust her own judgment. This is why she was hit with a wave of sour disappointment as her keenly honed insight told her that she was dangerously close to getting fat.

But of course she was! The food in this wretched city had turned increasingly awful in the last decade. Thousands of good little workers shuffling lamely to their dead-end jobs, too numb to get mad about it anymore. Whenever she wrung one dry just lately it was like eating junk food, but it was the easiest prey she could get. Her personal magic stores were suffering more than ever, her own emotions were starting to slip, and her body had taken to it poorly.

Her breasts had swelled, as had her waistline. Her thighs became just a bit more prodigious, and her legendary cheeks nearly hung over the sides of her bathroom chair. Instead of the petite physique she had strutted in for thousands of years at the peak of her power, she more resembled a rich soccer mom in her early thirties.

Without a steady stream of mana to tap, her body had begun aging. She stood. Turned as she blow-dried her hair. Terror struck in the form of a mental image; her pristine form sagging into a hanging curtain of geriatric flesh; a fate worse than death.

Adagio Dazzle sneered, plucking a bottle of hair dye from the rack next to the sink.

"Well then. There's nothing for it. This unbearable cities' flock is too full of numb angst to feed me properly."

She wiped the sleep from her eyes and crossed her suite into her bedroom's walk-in closet. Everything was slightly out of place; colored garment sections bleeding into others, ensembles dissected, separated, and never reunited gazing at each other with detached longing from every shelf. Her eyes drifted past an old pirate flag on a high shelf. It had been Arias'. Those were the days.

Adagio was inching closer and closer to losing control, and she was entirely bereft of someone to lean on and find her balance.

"I need a better vintage. Someone more long term, with some real emotional depth...some charm."

Buck woke up with his dick out, but that was nothing new. His phone alarm had kicked him out of his shitty night's sleep, marking that it was around brunch and therefore time to start his day. Fuck, his back was sore. So were his feet.

He bumbled through throwing together a basic breakfast-like thing and was about to sit at his desk to write that fluff piece he'd put off when his doorbell rang.

Buck opened it with toast in his mouth, his glasses askew, and was met with a smiling grey face, a slightly shaggy head of yellow hair, and an off-center pair of equally yellow eyes. Buck was extremely glad he had remembered to put on his pj's before answering the door.

His neighbor Ditzy Doo was just about the only decent person in this complex, and she giggled, reaching out to adjust his glasses. Ditzy Doo was also a kind of stringy, waifish woman. She had violin hips and she bounced on her heels in a way that was at once both nervous and a little whimsical. She also had a very generous bust that gently threatened to pop one of the buttons on her candy-striped delivery uniform. Buck caught himself staring and focused back on the cheery eye that she had on him. "Hey Ditzy, what's the word?"

"Hm? Oh! I'm about to head out, Buck. I just wanted to make sure to ask you if you're still going to babysit Dinky on Wednesday night? I have some important work."

"Right, yeah! I remember, I've got it marked on my calendar." That was four days from now. Today was Saturday, he was pretty sure.

"Oh! Okay, okay, good! I just wanted to make sure because you know, you told me you have trouble remembering that sort of thing and, but, but, that's okay! You're a great babysitter and Dinky loves you, I just-"

"It's alright, Ditzy. I get where you're coming from." Buck said, patting her shoulder. He yawned, then. Ditzy clammed up, her expression scrunched.

"Oh! And, um, remember how you said that you were thinking about maybe dating again sometime soon?"

"...Yeah?" Buck blinked.

"Well...look at this! Uhm...hold on..." Ditzy said, reaching into her satchel and rooting around. She produced a flyer, which claimed in a few words that the local diner and bar was going to host a speed-dating night.

"Does this say it's tonight?" Buck said, lowering the flyer.

"Yeah! I know you don't work tonight, so I figured you'd wanna go and check it out!" Ditzy said. "You know, go, uh, shmooze and make some moves and maybe meet a special lady?" Ditzy said.

"Uh...hm. Yeah, sure, why the hell not. I'm, I'm not gonna really get my hopes up, but it'll probably be fun."

"No, no, don't say that, Buck! I'm sure things will work out! You just have to keep swinging!" Ditzy curled her fists with determination. "You gotta at least try, right?"

"Say, Ditzy, what time you off work?' Buck said, scratching the back of his head.

"About seven...why?" Ditzy said. Her fists went down, and she started twirling a little lock of her hair with her finger.

"Well, I'm not gonna expect much from speed datin', but I figured I could tell you how it went when I got back. You know, you and Dinky and me, hang out? It's been a while, and I could really use a friend right now, you know?" Buck shrugged. Ditzy blinked twice as if taken aback.

"Oh, um, sure! We can, yes we can do that! You just go out and have fun, and I'll see you back here after!" And with that, she spun on her heels and quickly made her way down the hall.

"...Alright, Ditzy I'll see you later!" Buck called, but his energetic neighbor was already off.

Turning back into his apartment, Buck heard the familiar sound of a bumbling step, followed by a tumbling step, then a loud thump coming from the stairwell. Buck was about to inquire, but then he heard Ditzy's shaky voice.

"I'm okay!" Echoed up the stairs, then the sound of feet scattering outside.

Buck smiled, shrugged, and closed his door.

Back at his desk, Buck cracked his knuckles. There was a little paper heart hanging next to the window. It said "Happy Hearts and Hooves Day, to our bestest muffin buddy, from Ditzy and Dinky!" in some kind of pink, sparkly gel pen. Buck smiled, and not ruefully. He'd been living next to Ditzy and Dinky for about two years now, and in that time he'd kind of turned into the man of their house.

Ditzy was a single mother, she had it hard, so Buck helped her out when he could. He was strong and handy, and so whenever there were grocery bags to carry up the stairs, or a light bulb that needed replacing, or a night where another babysitter bailed, there he was. He smiled.

With Ditzy and Dinky and his friends over at CCU, he wasn't alone. Just lonely, and horny. He shook his head, set his timer.

"Focus. Article. Track team. College history of sexism. Go." He let his fingers fly across the keyboard.

The streets of Canterlot were bathed in dying light. The dazzle reflecting off the windows of a nearby
skyscraper stung Adagio's eyes, even with her sunshades on. As usual, she was dressed in a sexy little number. She wore a pair of dark purple stilettos.

It had taken her centuries to perfect the art of strutting in heels, and so she moved with practiced poise, her strategically ripped jeans squeezing at her rolling hips. Her dress was a lavender-colored sleeve off-the-shoulder situation that showed off the delicate curve of her clavicles and shy, peeking cleavage. It had a trailing pattern of orange strawflowers that drew the eye down to her hips. A cute little studded choker with a leash ring wound around her neck, wordlessly speaking volumes about bedroom predilections; a whisper of an invitation.

But that was her typical Saturday look. It tended to draw in guys who pretended to be nice.

The cherry on top was that she had taken the time to carefully and fully dye her hair a blazing red. It had taken all day. Since she was wearing it down, the tips of her tresses nearly touched the ground. Her hair matched her lipstick, and the slight highlights over her eyes, right behind her reading glasses that darkened in bright light.

She looked like a librarian who only discovered yesterday to her absolute shock that she fit the "hot" descriptor quite well, and in an equally miraculous revelation, decided that she wanted to waste her precious time on some disgustingly sincere man for the evening.

In other words, she was a flawless lure for the shallow pool of minnows she was entering. She strutted through the door of the bar, wordlessly filled out the speed dating application, and patiently sipped on an ice tea as desperately hopefuls slowly stepped into line.

It was time to play the game. She ended up being somewhere in the middle of the rotation.

So had Buck.

He was nervous as all hell. He always was with things like this, and after he filled out his form, his brain started doing that shitty thing it does whenever attractive women were close by. He recognized a few pretty girls he'd seen around town. He even knew a couple of names. Immediately, his head filled with derogatory statements.

"None of them will want you. None of them could want you. You're too damn complicated. You talk too damn much. You'll bore them. You're too sensitive. You walk too fast. You'll tire them out. You're just too fucking horny for them-" He shook his head, like shaking out an etch n' sketch.

Uh-uh. Not tonight. He was determined to enjoy tonight. What was the harm with talking to some bachelorettes? This was his night to cut loose, just a little bit, and if he got blown off, so what? He'd still be able to hang with Ditzy and Dinky and talk about how shitty things turned out, so it'd be fine. And the best-case scenario? He might meet a girl with some real character or even get proper laid for the first time in...a while. He frowned.

"Don't think about that. Just, be normal, and have a good time. Hey, wait, is that Scoots?"

Leaning on a wall, looking about 1/4th as nervous as him, Buck saw his acquaintance Scootaloo.

She was frowning at her application and occasionally looking up with a smile for people passing by. She was an especially short girl, barely 5'1" and a couple of years younger than Buck. Her cute bobbed hair had a few pink ribbons strategically placed in the bangs. A crop top and a blue skort signaled to the bar that Yes, she was indeed a girl, and surprise, she was available. Buck rolled up to her.

"Hey, Scoots!" She startled briefly, then grinned as Buck leaned on the wall next to her.

"Hey, Buck! What the hell are you doing here?" She chuckled, giving him a fist bump. "This is like, the first time I've seen you outside of work! Or game night."

"Weeeell, my Ditzy said I oughta check out this speed datin' thing, and so here I am. If I'm being honest, I'm kinda freaking out."

"What, really?"

"Little bit," Buck said, pinching his fingers together. "Like this much. Pretty girls, you know, they get my blood pumpin'.
I don't wanna slip and say some embarrassin' shit."

"What? Are you for real, Buck? You're like, one of the chillest guys I know. I wouldn't even know you were Into girls if you didn't play a bard all the time! Why don't you pull out some of those ridiculous charisma rolls for tonight?"

"C'mon, Scoots, they don't want to hear that corny shit."

"No, not the thees and thous and whatever. I'm talking about the confidence, man! You just have to come at 'em like you own the place, flash that shitty grin you have, and talk like sorta low. Maybe growl a little, rawr." Scoots put a curled hand up in a gesture that Buck thought was meant to ape a feral beast. Instead, it was more like a lethargic kitten.

"Scoots. Come on." Buck said, rolling his eyes.

"No, you come on!" She elbowed him in the ribs. "We're here to have fun, so have fun! Show 'em you got balls! What, did you lose 'em, big guy? You need help finding 'em?" She said, miming a look through a pair of binoculars at his crotch. Buck chuckled.

"Such an asshole. No, I got my balls, alright, hands off! Oh hey, I finished that article about you, and the track team. How's that going?"

"Sore."

"Really?"

"Yeah. All those dudes are sore because I blew the ass off their sprinting records. They couldn't catch me to save their lives!"

"Hah! Is, is that good?"

"Yeah, man! It's fine. Just like you're going to be, tonight. So loosen up!" She said.

"Alright, alright, don't push! Hey, I'm hanging out with my neighbor and her kid after this. You wanna come with? We can throw on somethin' scary once the kid's asleep."

"Dude, yes. We should totally hang out. But in exchange, when we get halfway done with this, promise me that you'll rag on the worst ones you've talked to, so I can do the same with mine."

"Oh sure, it'll be like a pit stop. Say, what name did you put down for your pseudonym?"

"Oh, right, right, I should probably pick one...There. How's that?" Scootaloo said, holding up the paper with pride.

"Chillwing." Buck said, flatly.

"Yep." Scoots smiled.

"Chillwing, as in your Rogue."

"Yeah!"

"Chillwing, as in the rogue that you play every single Tuesday game night."

"Yuh-huh."

"Okay, but Why, though?"

"Hey man, you can't beat perfection! Chillwing just happens to be the name of a sexy, badass, knife throwing lady, and I'm gonna take that sexiness forward tonight! Uh, minus the knives."

"Always with the knives with you. Okay. Alright, whatever. Are we supposed to be ordering drinks, d'ya know?"

Adagio Dazzle had been watching the room fill slowly with potential prey, orbiting around the bar and waiting for the event to start. The room stank of desperation.

The ladies of this city must have been possessed of exceptional patience, or especially low standards because there were some poor specimens on display tonight. Uppity Blue Blooded snots, a man likely quite disgustingly Rich and too old and married for this venue, a man who was painfully average and Normal and hadn't she seen him before, somewhere? Adagio couldn't remember. She made sure no masculine eyes were on her as her own threatened to roll straight out of their sockets.

Tonight couldn't be a bust.

There had to be some decent food in this wretched town! Adagio sheepishly fluttered her eyelashes as another man walked by. He squared his shoulders and barely registered her.

"Too uptight, that one. Come on now, this is a number's game, there must be...Ah!" Adagio raised a hand over her mouth to cover her devilish grin. She spotted a strapping man talking to a girl who looked like she could be his little brother.

He had wide, sharp shoulders and a noticeable cut to his muscles. His skin was dark violet, his thick, textured hair a mulberry color with a shock of light blue running through it. It was pulled into a puffy ponytail with a...pink scrunchy? A mistake? Perhaps he had rushed over here. Perhaps he just liked pink. A sensitive type?

His face was soft and firm and just a bit sun-beaten; the qualities of an excellent stool. He had the sort of stubble that would tickle at the inner thighs. His frame was stocky and rugged; not the marble cut features of a model, but the wide and sturdy build of a workhorse, with Clydesdale calves to match. His long arms ended in fingers that had a pleasant, filling thickness.

He had on a plaid over shirt that slightly hugged his barrel chest. Beneath was a black tank top that was bereft of any graphics displaying his interests, which was excellent because Adagio couldn't be bothered to care about them. He had simple blue jeans under that, with a curved line in the front that suggested about a handful and a half.

His eyes were the color of burnished gold behind his glasses and they looked tired. Sleepless? Anxious, perhaps? A night person? Nervous around women? Perhaps not. He was carrying on a conversation with that girl, and by the way she was chuckling, they either knew each other before tonight or she had "accidentally" brushed his thigh just now.

Adagio saw him take a slow look about and managed to time it just so.

Buck was taking a casual glance around the bar. It looked like things were about to start, considering the crowd that was shuffling over to the line of tables. Lots of confident-looking dudes in here, too, and maybe half as many confident girls. A lot of them were starting to look like they might regret the night. He was just hoping he could maybe make some of them laugh when he saw Her.

She'd been yawning cutely across the room when his eyes fell on her, and she just happened to toss a sidelong glance in Buck's direction. Her eyes trained on him for a moment that felt like years. She blinked her long eyelashes and then an impish curl slid across her puffy, painted lips. She puckered those lips and made a little kissy sound at Buck and then turned to find her table, giving Buck a sideways view of her absolute dump truck ass as it and her bouncing red locks sashayed away.

"Holy fuck." Buck murmured, absolutely shook.

"What's the matter?" Scoots said, tilting her head.

"That's...the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my entire fucking life."

"Whuh? Where!?" Scoots said, looking around.

"There. Red hair. Stilettos. Thick. With like five 'C's." Buck pointed surreptitiously. In response, Scootaloo peered around in a way that almost approached the idea of subtlety.

"...Oh damn. Damn! Buck, are you sure?'

"'bout what?"

"You sure you want to swing for her? She's like...aggressively out of everyone's league, here."

"Scoots!"

"I'm just sayin' man! Just...nah, screw it. Just have fun. What's the harm?"

"Yeah...what's, uh, what's the harm?" Buck said, his hands quivering a bit.

"Look, let me scope her out."

"What?"

"Dude. I'm on the dude's side tonight."

"What?"

"I'm lookin' for girls tonight! I'll do guys on the next speed dating thing!"

"...what?"

"Look. Swap numbers with me. I'll be ahead of you in line. I'll talk to her before our pitstop, get a lay of the land, you know? And then I'll let you know what her deal is, 'kay? I've got your back." Scoots hooked a thumb at her face.

"Wingman Scoots. That's a...that's a new one. Alright. Sure." Buck shrugged.

"Yeah, see! It'll be fine! Uh, what're ya doing over there?" Scoots said. Buck was a few steps away, at the bar.

"I'm gettin' a tequila sunrise, because I'm terrified. Ya want one?"

The air in the diner was heavy with awkward attraction and low excitement. It tasted like cheap dimestore candy. It helped Adagio to focus.

A few sessions down, she was already exhausted with the fodder in this speed dating line. They were the usual suspects of big eyes, small brain sort of men she'd been preying on for the last while. The common clay of Canterlot City. Idiots.

As she tittered and mumbled her way through this parade of dullards, she occasionally leaned forward in a faux flirtatious way and snuck a peek at the cute one she'd caught in her sights earlier.

He looked like he was having at least a little fun, but the way half the girls he talked to started to look exhausted or yammered on without him saying a word told Adagio that he wasn't especially good at shaping the conversation. Good. That would make things easier.

Adagio would lean forward with a slight tilt of the head, waiting for him to nervously look down the row of tables, and she would flash him a grin and he would sit bolt upright and out of her sight.

"Much, much easier." Adagio murmured, and then she caught herself and pretended to laugh at a joke about her ample cleavage coming from across her table She kept a side-eye in his direction.

She wanted him to know that she was circling him like a shark.

Buck had ordered and quickly downed a double shot in his drink, and so was instantly kind of drunk. He considered this a net win because if he really ballsed it up tonight, he probably wouldn't remember.

To his lack of surprise, the first couple of rounds were kind of trash. He rambled about his hobbies and his writing and all of that, and the girls had been very polite and let him talk. Mostly. A white and purple-haired woman with a sharp nose and a sharper frown asked him if he ever shut the fuck up about old bands before calling him a dweeb and getting up from the table. That was a miss, so Buck pivoted by trying to be cool and listening more than talking.

This also backfired on him, because that made him seem like he didn't have anything to say, and that was especially boring. Or perhaps he was simply mute. The inquisitive older woman with the purple blazer and the harsh eyes didn't seem to care which, but her tune shifted as he invited her to rant about her office job. She seemed to lean into the conversation after downing her own drink, but her friend had to come and save her from drunkenly leaning right out of her chair.

The next chair was empty because its occupant was sitting in the lap of the last guy she'd been talking to. That guy had the scrunched face of someone smelling absinthe breath for the first time. Always nice to see Berry Punch, honestly.

All the while, Buck kept stealing glances at the mystery woman he had seen earlier. Well, he thought he was being stealthy and all, but it seemed like every time he caught a glance at her, she was sizing him up, or adjusting her hair with her chest pushed out, or lightly tracing circles on the table grain and grinning at him. He was not so drunk that he was seeing things; she was clearly signaling him. And in response, his chest was signaling something in morse code, but Buck was able to calm down just a bit despite the red-haired woman's proximity when Scootaloo tapped him on the shoulder.

The partner across from her was half asleep. The strikingly familiar woman across from Buck had dark purple hair and an expression blanker than a canyon wall. "Hey, uh, do you-" Buck started.

"No." She interrupted. "I don't mind, that is. I was just thinking about leaving." She said as she idly rolled a small stone in her palm.

"Thanks, Maud. Nice seein' ya. Oookay. So Scoots."

"Yeah." Scoots said, looking about, a bead of sweat on her forehead.

"What's...What's the scoop? You talked to her, right?"

"Oh. Oh! Yeah, I did. Man. Buck, listen to me."

"Okay?'

"She's into you, man. I'm not kidding. She dressed me right the heck down when I sat, and asked how I know you.

"...Is this a joke?"

"No! I mean, probably not. She's like...she's intense, Buck. Couldn't get a read on her at all. Seems kinda familiar, but I don't know from where. But I see the way she's looking at you. She's gonna eat you alive, man."

"Okay, stop. She's not a monster, she's just a very beautiful woman, and she probably wants to tease me a little, give me a fake number and then have a laugh."

"I seriously doubt it, dude. She's on a mission."

"Whaddya mean?"

"I dunno, man, I dunno! Just be cool."

"...I'll try?" Buck said, scratching his head. He took a deep breath. "I mean, that's all you can do, right? Just try and enjoy the night, and be suave and don't be weird. Just...be cool and charming. Right?"

"Oh yes, I'm sure charm is exactly your area of expertise, handsome." Adagio purred. The cute one looked like he was focused on psyching himself up, and didn't notice the line moving. Adagio now sat across from him, and before he noticed her presence, she had scooted her chair back and strategically crossed one leg over the other. His eyes darted down and then away like a pair of desperate little fish.

"Uh, uh, h-hey! Hey, it's nice to finally meet you after, you know, seeing you across the bar." He stammered. Waves of nervous excitement washed off him in a mist. It tingled, like pop rocks.

"Yes, I couldn't help but notice you talking to your friend? I assume?"

"Yeah, uh, yes. She's an acquaintance of mine, from work." His voice was a warm baritone, oddly a bit squeaky. Late bloomer, he had to have been.

"Yes. She's a bit of an...eccentric. I wasn't expecting her to be so skittish!"

"Uh?"

"Yes. The moment I mentioned you, she broke like a dam and started telling me how you're 'Like a really good guy' and 'Nice in a dorky sorta way'. You'd think she was being interrogated, the poor thing! She was certain that I wanted to know all about you." She fixed him with that gaze she had that villages burned beneath.

"She did? Uh, do ya?"

"Is that surprising? That a woman would take a sudden interest in you?"

"You'd be the first one tonight." Ooh, self-deprecation. It tasted like an old scar, or several.

"Let me start simple." Adagio said, fluttering her eyelashes. She cast her line.

"...Simple is good."

"It can be, yes. Tonight, you can call me Heart Song." She said.

"Ah, and you can call me Soulful Serenade." He smiled a bit as he said that. Good. Now watch the bobber.

"It's lovely to finally see you up close. I'll have to savor my time with you." Adagio said, offering a hand to shake. He blushed and smiled. An ember.

"Well, uh, maybe don't savor me too too much, we've only got a couple of minutes!" He said, taking her hand.

She giggled at that. He had a bit of humor. A light and sugary flavor, like cotton candy.

"Ooh, quick quips? I've yet to see that tonight. This should be fun." She said, with half-lidded eyes.

"Ah, well, my jokes can be fast but pretty lame." There it was again, that thin, salty taste. Her prey straightened up his back. "Sorry. Let me start over. It's Soulful Serenade. And you have to forgive my nervousness. To be frank, you're just about the most gorgeous woman I've seen in this city and that's caught me off guard. But!" He said, dropping his tone a bit lower. "It's an inimitable pleasure makin' your acquaintance, and I've got no intention of wastin' your time tonight."

With that, Buck took his time planting a gentle kiss on the back of Adagio's hand. The slightest blush crept onto her cheeks.

What was that? Adagio thought. What had she tasted just now? It was like a warm summer breeze. He was confident, actually, just a little unsteady. That smile. Does he...does he know how to play the game? Is this his stance?

"Well...I will make sure that you don't leave disappointed either." Adagio said, lowering one leg and sliding the other atop it. She caught Soulful's drifting gaze, but he swiftly snapped to attention. A dab of savory temperance. "Though I must ask; the most beautiful in the city, really? How am I not the most gorgeous woman you've seen in your life?" Adagio said with a toothy grin. She rested her cheek in her palm.

"Ah, well, l-let's save that value judgement for after I get to know your personality, huh?" Soulful stammered.

"Aren't we presumptuous? And what if I turned out to be a vicious old hag, what then?"

"Well, you're gorgeous and you sound really witty, so even if you happened to have a mean streak, it would just mean that you aren't completely flawless." Soulful smiled easily.

"Oh? Is that so?" Adagio said.

"Exactly. The most beautiful things in the world are flawed. Like...snowflakes, or rough drafts. You can't expect every little detail to be perfect, like the curve of those hips." Oh, a fine parry. Was he a bit drunk? His feelings were starting to come down in waves. Wiggle the lure, don't scare the boy off...

"Ah? Oh! Oh, my! Well, Mr. Serenade. You're sharper than you seem."

"...Thank you?" Oops. Honey. Not vinegar.

"That is to say, you have a way with words. You wouldn't happen to be a poet or a scribe, would you?" Adagio said. Soulful Serenade tilted his head.

"Oh, uh, yeah, I write articles for a livin', at the moment."

"At the moment?"

"Yeah, I've always wanted to do fiction, y'see."

"Is that so?" Adagio pushed, gently.

"Yeah, gettin' short stories around is easy enough, but gettin' novels published is a whole lottery on its own.
It's a number's game, really."

"Oh, a novelist, are we?"

"A lil' bit of everything. Poetry, some song lyrics and novel type stuff, yeah."

"You sing?" Adagio didn't have to feign her intrigue this time.

"Ah, well, not seriously anymore. But I used to, and play a lil' piano. Used to street perform, a million years ago. Took me a while to figure out I wanted to write, you know?"

"Oh! I knew you had a certain look about you!" Adagio said.

"Huh?" She saw him notice her hand creeping slowly toward his on the table. He smelled like excitement now, and in the back, Adagio sensed a rising flare.

Adagio leaned forward, showing a slight bit of cleavage. Drag him in.

"You're a virtuoso. A man of many talents. A silver-tongued bard." She purred. Soulful's hand went up to scratch his head, reflexively, escaping a brush against Adagio.

"I mean, I wouldn't go as far as to call myself a bard, but I do play one on Tuesdays." His chuckle was cut short by a small gasp. Adagio's high-heeled foot slid with intentional slowness up the inside of his leg.

She had won.

Bards were always the easiest to snare, and they often could last for weeks before giving out. All she had to do was get him to show his impish, vicious little colors, and then she could begin her feast in private.

"Well, Mr. Serenade, I would love to take a peak at some of your manuscripts, perhaps have you recite some poetry, or even...make you sing for me?" Adagio growled. Her eyes locked him in a hawkish gaze and her pinky reached out to lightly caress his. Meanwhile, that wandering foot she had under the table was gently sliding toward his crotch.

And there it was. Adagio saw it in his eyes and tasted it in the air. For one moment, there was only lust. The thirst in his eyes burned back into her. It was like standing next to a pyre. His funeral. It made Adagio shudder, just a bit.

He saw it. He grinned, and for that moment, she saw the flicker of a flame in his smile. And then just as quickly, it vanished and that restrained nervousness settled back in.

"I uh, I...wow, uh..." He looked to his left and saw his little wingman giving him a thumbs up. "That's, um. Okay, wonderful as that sounds..." Soulful Serenade turned his hand to gently cup Adagio's. His hands were big and warm and shockingly soft, like his eyes. "I'd...really like to get to know you more before we get to all that."

A taste of warm chocolate, semi-sweet. There was a patient pride in him and curiosity. He was telling the truth. Not just a boy, then. A man.

"And I just know that you wouldn't be satisfied if you didn't get to talk about yourself tonight. Am I right?" He said, placing his other hand over hers.

Warmth. Why did it still taste so warm? He was on the defensive, but he was pushing. In his eyes, there was still a bit of that sharpness.

Adagio felt her own eyebrow quirk, saw him smirk. A jab. A challenge? Fine. She smirked at him down her nose.

"Well, come on, then." She said, slowly pulling her hand away and quickly standing up.

"Huh?' Soulful said. "Whaddya mean?"

"We're leaving. You are taking me on a lovely evening stroll to the nearby pier, and we will continue this conversation without the rest of these gawkers." Adagio said.

"Yeah?" Soulful said, bemused as he scooched back his chair.

"Yes, I think so. The next man after you smells suspiciously like a tub of jelly, and the women after me aren't worth your time." Adagio said, taking Soulful's arm. She subtly pressed her breasts against it and let her eye wander along his upper features.

He smelled like cologne that was only slightly cheap. He had a mole under the corner of his right eye. He was warm.

He looked away, probably to check on his wingman. She was in the middle of cracking up at her own joke. He winced at a sharp nail on his cheek, gently turning his head to look down at Adagio. She was about a head shorter than him, looking up. Her hawkish magenta eyes caught him again.

"Shall we?"

"We shall." He smirked. The two of them sauntered out of the diner together. Adagio surreptitiously tossed a handful of numbers from her purse into a potted plant by the door.

Down near the end of the line, Buck's neighbor Ditzy Doo looked positively shattered for a moment and then left out the other door.

Buck always preferred Canterlot City nights. The blistering day heat gave way to cool breezes after the sun went down, and he always had an easier time thinking with the lights of the city in front of him. At the moment, though, he was having a hard time thinking of anything besides Heart Song, the mysterious woman with the fire engine red hair and the sharpness in her eyes. The slight tumble in his steps reminded him that he was still drunk, and that made him hope that this wasn't an elaborate plan to steal his kidneys.

For the few minutes they'd been walking, Heart Song had hold of his arm, and her breasts were lightly bouncing against it with each step. This was the most distracting thing that Buck had ever experienced, and he'd sat next to Pinkie Pie in sophomore math. Was this actually happening? If it's not, I don't want to wake up, he thought to himself and thanked whatever gods were watching that he hadn't blurted it out.

"So, uh, the pier, huh? You like the water?" Buck blurted out instead. Relax, he thought to himself. Things are going good. Just walk straight.

"Ooh, absolutely. There is nothing so beautiful in the world than a great body of water. The fury of the waves, the mystery of the depths, the sparkle of the surface...it's poetic, truly. I...come from beach folk, so I suppose it's only natural that I love the water."

"That's funny. I come from a port town, so the ocean was always in my backyard too, so to speak."

"Oh? May I guess remote deep south, from that accent?"

"Outskirts of a meltin' pot city, but yep. Way down there. Yeah, rain over the ocean is the most soothing thing in the world to me. Watchin' raindrops slowly slide down my window, or finding interestin' odds and ends in the sand. At the beach, the scenery is always changin', you know? It's both chaotic and reliable. Violent and gentle. Gorgeous, in a million little ways, all the time." Buck sighed as he and Heart Song strolled along the wall separating the sidewalk from the beach. Buck looked over and saw a look of near shock on her face that she quickly tossed aside in favor of a devious grin.

"A poet indeed, Mr. Soulful Serenade. That's about as apt a metaphor for nature's greatest wonder as I've ever heard."

"Then why do you look disappointed?"

"Oh, I'm not, that was lovely. It's just, it wasn't too long ago that men would tell me all sorts of parables and poems about beauty and the sea."

"Yeah? Did you used to host poetry slams or somethin'?"

"Oh no, they came to talk about my beauty and compare it to the beauty of the sea."

"Ah."

"Indeed."

"Oh, I get it."

"Hm?"

"Fishin'. You're fishin'. You must be gettin' comfortable with me." Buck chuckled.

"Oh, you're terrible! Baseless accusations and nautical puns?" She said it haughty-like, but he could see her smile peeking from behind her hair.

"Yeah, I can see that you're real upset, cry me a river."

"Ohhh, gag!" Heart Song lightly smacked Buck on the chest.

"Hey now, with the hands! Naw, but seriously, I think I've got one. A sea-based compliment."

"Is that a fact?"

"Yeah. You wanna to hear it?"

"I would. But be advised, any who bring me bad compliments or worse puns will be tied to a boat anchor so they can brine for my next meal." Adagio said with a wry smile, curling her hand like a claw.

"Oooh, spooky. Okay, but lemme try."

"Well?" Buck stopped and turned to her. He took her hand again.

"Miss Heart Song, your eyes are like a far flung constellation over a dark and beautiful sea, guiding me to the warm shores of an exotic new place."

"Ah..." She closed her eyes and smiled triumphantly.

"Or guiding my ship to be smashed against the rocks on the shore. Not sure which."

"Pffft-hahahaha!" She laughed, finally, at that. Almost hysterically. Buck had to stop walking to let Heart Song catch her breath. She had to cover her mouth, while he grinned like a stand-up comedian.

After a moment, she finally stopped giggling and stood up, wiping the bangs from her face. Her face was red, and for a moment, she wouldn't look at Buck.

Adagio hated this. He had actually managed to make her laugh. She couldn't tell if he was particularly prescient and too intrigued for his own good, or an actual idiot who just happened to be on the ball today. It didn't matter, she supposed. She was quietly furious at the blush on her cheeks. The night was cool, but where they were touching, she could feel a warmth spreading through her. A heat that she almost feared to approach. This wasn't fair. He was her prey, she couldn't let this "Soulful Serenade" get his licks in like this. At least, not without her permission. She adjusted her smile, looked up at him, and then leaned her head on his shoulder again.

"You're silly, Mr. Soulful."

"Nah, the world is silly. I'm just observant. For instance, I can see that you have a wicked sense of humor. And nautical theming, I guess? I bet there's a spooky pirate flag somewhere in the back of your closet and you're just mortified by that."

"Oh, How dare." Adagio said, flatly. He was definitely still drunk.

"Sorry, did I touch a nerve? Madame, if I may be so bold, you have badass lady pirate captain written all over your face." Sass, adulation. It was like spiced rum. And again, that warmth was coming off him.

"Well, if you keep this up, you have the makings of an excellent cabin boy, Mr. Serenade."

"Aw man, not even a quartermaster?"

"Hush. The cabin boy gets all sorts of special privileges." Adagio said, tracing sharp little circles on her guests' chest. Gentle, draw the knife slowly.

"Y...yeah?" Adagio saw heat creeping into his cheeks.

"Oh yes. They have a special relationship with the captain. They can visit her quarters...and even go below decks." She said. Her hand wandered up and lightly brushed the back of his neck. That heat was rising. More. She wanted to touch it. Feed it. Adagio could see her predatory grin reflected in Soulful Serenade's gold-colored eyes.

"Are...are you asking me on a second date...?" He said. A taste like a piece of hardtack. She was being too gentle.

"No." Adagio said, and then she pulled him into a viciously passionate kiss. She didn't bother leading up or trying to tease him into it. Her tongue was in his mouth and it was ravaging his. She scratched the back of his neck with her nails, and for his part, he began to push back with his own tongue. Adagio squeezed his bicep and pushed down on it gently, urging him to reach, and he did so, squeezing a handful of ass. Adagio moaned low and thirsty in his mouth. His heat was blazing into her. He tasted like old sugar and agave. Her nails got caught in his hair, and she pulled him closer, pressing him up against the sea wall.

She could taste him wanting her as her vision turned green.

She felt a shudder run through him.

She caught herself. Adagio Dazzle was far from done with this man. She hated him for making her want him.

She pulled away from the kiss, gently digging her nails into his shoulder and stroking the hand that was groping her ass. He was breathing hard.

"I...oh man...uh-" Adagio's finger went up to his lips. There was no more room for compromise in her eyes.

"You are coming home with me. Now."

Author's Note

Song Review: Habits, put simply, is a song about drowning oneself in distractions and substance abuse to momentarily escape heartache. Our principal characters have suffered grievous emotional wounds before the start of the narrative, and they cope in unique, self-destructive ways. The problem with running from your emotions is they always come crashing back into you before long. This fateful meeting between Buck and Adagio is that crash.
The specific remix of Habits that I listened to while drafting this chapter is the Postmodern Jukebox version, performed by the magnificent Haley Reinhart. It's a sleazy, swingy little number that I can see Adagio singing in a smoky lounge to attract victims while Buck, too poor to go out at night, sings it to himself.

All of the chapters will be named after songs that I think capture the tone, mood, or messaging, and I invite y'all to listen to those songs before or after you read, as they will definitely enhance your experience.