Finding Your Family

Sweetie Belle wasn't feeling well after eating, so after the carriage ride, she didn't go into the new bar. Rarity stayed behind to take care of her, and just in case, Pinkie broke out the ginger tea to assist in calming her stomach.

With two of their party staying behind, the rest of them walked into the South End Taphouse, one of the oldest establishments in the city. It was so old, in fact, that with the city mostly growing southerly, it was now on the north end. That wasn't to say it was rickety; it had been rebuilt twice and was subject to regular inspection, but had kept the name because of how recognised it was within the community.

Immediately, the sound of a saxophone and drum kit filled the air as they walked in, as a local jazz quartet was playing, and it was time for the sax solo. Before long, the piano and upright bass joined back in as the sax lowered in volume and settled down.

"So, what are we doing here?" asked Scootaloo.

"Not much at all," shrugged Rainbow. "Consider this a break."

"A break?"

"Let this moment be a reminder, champ, that not every day is going to be wild and crazy," smirked Rainbow, pulling out a chair for Scootaloo. "Even for as awesome as I am, I still need a nap every so often."

Scootaloo smiled and shook her head. "I already know this. Being a mother, I've had my fair share of days where I just couldn't handle any more, and I needed some time off."

"Do you?" asked Rainbow. "Because when we walked in this afternoon, you were studying, not taking a break."

"Well, yeah, but I had a long bubble bath this morning while listening to a cello concerto. Count that as taking a break."

"Count this as another one," shrugged Rainbow.

"Even the best parties need bathroom breaks!" bounced Pinkie, skipping past the table on her way to said room.

Apple Bloom flopped down in a chair next to Scootaloo. "We was gonna take in a strip show, but y'all said no. That means either a dance club, where it's too easy to end up separated due to the sheer volume of patrons, or a jazz bar. Or a country music stage, but you ain't a big fan a' that..."

"Jazz is fine, as long as it's smooth," answered Scootaloo. "None of that freeform junk. Anything capable of standing the test of time has to have some kind of stable structure."

As if he had heard her, the saxophonist winked at the bassist and started into a freeform structure, while still adhering to the beats and measures dictated by the bass and drum. The pianist followed his lead, with the time still being kept, but the rhythm flying wildly around it. It still held the structure, but gained an openness to it that allowed for both sides of the argument to be true. Scootaloo would have been embarrassed if she weren't impressed.

They sat there for awhile, just listening to the performance that seemed to go on and on, changing its structure to bleed into other pieces, rather than stopping to change what they were playing. In that time, Pinkie had returned to the table with a tray of drinks for everypony still interested.

After the set, the saxophonist hopped down from the stage and approached the table. "Mind if I sit?"

"Closed group," answered Apple Bloom.

"Nevermind her," waved Pinkie. "As long as you're not a creep, you can sit until we leave."

"You sure your band won't be mad?" asked Scootaloo.

"Nah, they do this all the time. Sometimes, in the middle of a set. Last night, Ivory walked out with a magazine and came back ten minutes later with a trail of toilet paper on his hoof. It was fine." He sat down and leaned back as another set began, this time with no sax or drums. "That's one of the upsides of being a jazz musician, is nopony cares if you just leave for a bit, or if you mess up a little. Alto, by the by..." He extended his hoof, and Scootaloo shook it. "What brings you ladies here tonight?"

"Bachelorette party," answered Rainbow.

"I see. Well, I'm sure I don't compare to the pole dancers you've been seeing all night." To accentuate that, he patted his hoof against his stomach and a couple of ripples radiated outward. He wasn't exactly large, just a bit overweight. "Probably a more stimulating conversationalist, though."

"Not like that's hard to do," scoffed Apple Bloom.

"What are you talking about?" shot Rainbow back. "He's said more dumb things than any stripper we've seen all night."

Alto pouted. "Really?"

"Well, yeah," chuckled Scootaloo, knocking back another glass of whiskey. She'd had four times as much as anypony else, and was only now starting to feel a bit light-headed. "They're kind of hard to beat, though, as you've said a non-zero number of words, and at least one of them was bland. That makes a higher count than zero."

Alto chuckled. "None of them approached you? What a letdown! It sickens me when even the sexual deviants of society are so disgusted by ponies hanging around with dragons. Come now, even the princess is trying to open relations of all kinds with other races. Rumour has it she even dated a hippogriff. Or was it a gryphon?"

Scootaloo shook her head. "I heard something different. But yeah, I'd heard about the stigma."

Alto shook his head. "I don't understand why it's a big deal. If a dragoness were interested in me, I'd sweep her off her claws, take her back to my place, and show her the true skill that comes from playing an instrument that requires your lips to constantly be pushing air in one direction only." He waggled his eyebrows seductively. "Can I buy you a drink?"

Scootaloo couldn't help but laugh. "My drinks are already paid for, but I'll tell my fiancé your joke; he'll find it a riot."

The smile fades from Alto's face as he turned red. "So you're the... Heh, heh... sorry..."

"No big deal," smirked Scootaloo. "He's not the type to hold a grudge. Plus, he'd agree with you that dragons are sexy beasts. He's one of us, but we're not together because of the stigma. He'd feel the same about me, even if I was a pony, and I can say that with absolute certainty."