Pharynx didn’t spend any time looking at the menu. It didn’t really matter, after all - they weren’t getting anything useful from the food, unless the cook happened to be one of the few rare ones who unconsciously managed to put so much love into their creations that it was actually partly made of love.
Thorax, of course, actually put some effort into picking what he wanted to eat, which did not surprise Pharynx in the slightest. His brother had always wanted to fit in with the ponies more than with his own race. It was both irritating and, admittedly, adorable.
‘’Are you done yet?’’ he dryly asked after a minute.
‘’Just a moment, Pharynx!’’ Thorax said without looking up from his menu. ‘’Don’t you know how many dishes there are?’’
Pharynx, as it happened, did not, nor did he care to know. He had ordered something; he would consume it, then go back home and punch some recruits for failing to do basic drills. Just another day in the life of Pharynx, Prince of the Changeling Hives.
A waitress came over to them. ‘’Are you ready to order, sirs?’’
‘’We are,’’ Pharynx confirmed with a sideways glance at Thorax, who didn’t look at all ready. ‘’I will have a hayburger with extra fries, and a shamrock milkshake, if you please.’’
‘’Right-o, sir. And, you sir?’’ The waitress turned to Thorax, who was still looking through the menu.
It took him a few seconds to answer. ‘’Uh, I’ll have a salad and some fries, and a pumpkin milkshake, please.’’
The waitress jotted it down. ‘’Coming right up, sirs.’’ Then she walked away from their table.
‘’Took you long enough,’’ Pharynx drawled.
‘’There were so many choices,’’ Thorax whined, and that was fair, the menu was pretty extensive. Even if this wasn’t a high-class establishment, they were still in Canterlot, and so a more international diet was found here than anywhere else in the country (except Manehattan, of course, but counting the Big Apple as well was cheating).
‘’I just couldn’t choose!’’ he exclaimed.
‘’But you did choose, in the end,’’ Pharynx helpfully pointed out.
‘’Because you forced me,’’ Thorax muttered.
That was true. ‘’I did,’’ Pharynx acknowledged, and he wouldn’t apologise for it to anyone, least of all Thorax. If he was incapable of asserting his will, Pharynx would do it for him. He’d been doing that since their birth, after all.
Thorax didn’t reply to that, and there was nothing Pharynx had to add to his remark. So, instead of attempting conversation again, he looked sideways, out the window.
It was snowing, of course, as it was December and snow was scheduled for at least half the days of the month. However, when otherwise at this time of the day there might still be a great deal of ponies about on the streets, today this was not the case, and for one simple reason: it was Hearth's Warming Eve.
Changelings didn’t usually celebrate it, but Thorax had convinced Pharynx to come and have dinner with him in Canterlot. Pharynx could not be called enthusiastic about the whole thing: if one had to describe his emotions, it would be a mix of exasperation, care and irritation. The usual, thus, whenever he was dragged along for one of his brother’s wild ideas.
What fun.
‘’Pharynx?’’
‘’Hm?’’
Thorax was fiddling with something in his hooves. Pharynx couldn’t see what it was, and he couldn’t care less about it. He just wanted to be done with this dinner, sneak into a club or something similar and drown himself in the love that rolled off all those ponies. The more he thought about that, the more appealing it sounded.
‘’I, uh…’’ Thorax’ voice brought him back out of his thoughts. ‘’I got you a present.’’
Pharynx stared at Thorax. ‘’What.’’
‘’A Hearth’s Warming present,’’ Thorax quickly went on. ‘’I, uh, got it from a general store here in Canterlot. It’s nothing big, just a little something I came across and couldn’t resist.’’
Before Pharynx could react to that, Thorax revealed what he had been fiddling with: a long, rectangular package, wrapped in green and golden paper.
‘’What is it?” Pharynx managed to ask, finally shattering his reverie.
Thorax managed a small smile as he slid the package across the table over to him. ‘’See for yourself.’’
Pharynx, carefully, touched the paper with his hoof, then slowly unwrapped it. Piece by piece, the paper peeled away to reveal… a stick?
‘’You got me a stick.’’
‘’It’s not just a stick!” Thorax countered excitedly. All the nervousness was gone from his voice, somehow. ‘’It’s a friendship stick.’’
Pharynx felt something die inside of him. Some small part of him had just passed on to the next life. Pharynx mourned it greatly.
‘’A friendship stick,’’ he repeated, very slowly, carefully stressing each letter to make sure he was speaking clearly. ‘’And why did you get me this?’’
Thorax either didn’t notice his mood or didn’t care; probably a little bit of both, honestly. ‘’Because you’re not just my brother, you’re my friend.’’
Pharynx looked at the stick. It was an offending shade of pink, the sort of shade young mares with less sense than the average rock would wear to the parties Pharynx could get delicious love from. He’d seen it often enough.
Still, it was a gift from Thorax, which meant he had to at least pretend he liked it, before conveniently ‘losing it’ somewhere. Preferably somewhere Thorax wouldn’t come, ever.
‘’It’s…’’ Pharynx sighed. ‘’It’s very nice.’’
Thorax beamed so hard Pharynx half-expected him to turn into light. ‘’I’m glad you like it!’’
Pharynx was glad his brother didn’t see through his lie. It was a rather transparent lie, if you knew Pharynx a little. Few people did, but Thorax probably knew him the best out of everyone that wasn’t him, so it evened out.
‘’I’ll, uhh, hang it on my wall?’’ Pharynx had no idea what the point of the friendship stick was. He somehow doubted it was anything violent.
Thorax, somehow, beamed even harder. ‘’I’m sure it’ll look great!’’
Mercifully, the waitress came back with the food just then, and Pharynx was saved from further questions courtesy of his brother.
He laid the friendship stick down in the seat next to him, then consumed his food without care; he couldn’t taste it anyway and it wasn’t going to be poisoned, so what did it matter? Nothing, that’s what.
But, as he ate, his mind occasionally drifted back to the item beside him. It was, after all, an offense to the eye, and thus it naturally drew his gaze to it, whenever he let it wander from something.
‘’Thank you, Thorax,’’ he finally decided to say, after some internal debating that took him until dinner was finished to resolve. ‘’It is a great gift.’’ He hesitated, then added, ‘’I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything.’’
Thorax just smiled as he looked up from his food. ‘’Don’t worry about it, Pharynx. I appreciate that you’re having dinner with me. That’s enough of a gift for me.’’
And Pharynx found he had nothing to say to that.
(In the end, the friendship stick got an honorary place on Pharynx’s wall.)
Author's Note
Present for Grand Choir, because he deserves it.
