Loud, pulsing music that could make the floor shake, strobing lights, and numerous parts where everything pauses for a 'fat drop'. It was always weird to Anon how despite the odd scarcity in technology, a techno club and a DJ was one of the things that kept up. No cars, no phones -- but they knew what dubstep was.

Not really his speed, but he wasn't really here for the music or the atmosphere. The drinks, sure, but he could get more at a better price at home. No, he was here for something very specific.

The crowd. The horde of sweaty, dancing, drinking Ponies who wanted to party away a long days work. The weekend was tomorrow -- and the way these ponies were throwing it down, you'd think it was Saturday night. Probably Pinkies fault; he can see her working up one of the larger masses of dancers, all pushed right up on the stage. The DJ is throwing her head around with loud, bass-y music carrying across the club.

But she wouldn't be there. Too close to one of the Elements. Instead, his gaze flits over to the dance floor. Leaning his back against the bar, drink in hand, Anon idly sips the oddly sweet drink. Pony alcohol tasted like candy half the time, and he never quote got used to it. It's why he preferred imports.

The general, hoof-hopping and sweaty middle dance floor crowd... lots of excited, smiling Ponies bumping flanks and throwing each-other heavy, want-filled stares. A lot of attention going around... a lot of close, physical contact. She could navigate that, but she wouldn't want to here. No, not the main group.

Quiet sip, and his gaze floats towards the quieter parts of the club. Corners and booths, tables with groups. A few large pepperings of ponies chatting, but nobody looking out of place... a few were practically on each-others laps, hardly able to keep their hooves off each-other. Wasn't any of them.

They'd put a few loose rules; one of them was no replacing or doubling anybody known.

"Excuse me, Sir?" The pony working the bar perks up, sliding a drink in front of him. He glances over his shoulder at it, confused.

It was something dark, mixed with a soda. Something he actually liked.

"From the Miss down there." The barpony points, down the lengthy bar, past numerous other bar-sitting ponies.

A mare with pinkish-grey fur, a brilliant blonde mane, and a bright red dress sits near the edge of the bar, watching him from under a healthy amount of eyeliner. She waggles a hoof at him, smiling.

His interest piqued, Anon picks the drink up, rising from his seat. He maneuvers around the other drinkers, and the few dancers who've drifted too far from the dance floor, finding the open seat beside this mystery mare.

"Not often I get a drink bought for me." Anon opens, giving it a small sip. About the closest a pony could get to a rum and coke. Hm.

"You looked... lonely, the way you were searching the crowd. Thought I'd cheer you up." She hums softly, glancing down at the barstool. Inviting him to sit.

Wordlessly, he accepts the invitation, seating himself beside her and leaning on the counter.

"You look a touch overdressed for the environment. From out of town?" Anon asks, gesturing to the bright splash of color that is her dress. Well, against her own fur anyway -- half the ponies in here were competing with its saturation from fur and mane alone. Not to mention most of them weren't wearing much of anything that wasn't glowsticks, bracelets or other minor accessories.

"Guilty as charged. From Manehatten, waiting for the next train to whisk me further for a show in Vanhoover." She explains, sipping at her own drink; looks more like an ice-cream sundae than it does a proper drink. "Though, wearing something seems to be something we have in common."

"A Mare with a show? Sorry if I don't recognize you, I'm still working on identifying different ponies, though you're making it pretty easy with how effortlessly you stand out. What's your butt-designated talent?" Anon asks innocently.

She stifles a laugh, looking at him funny, glancing down at her own flank that's covered by her dress. "Singing, if you couldn't guess. I was hoping my pitstop here in Ponyville would grant me a chance for a quiet, classy show, but..." She trails off, blowing bubbles in her drink.

"No comfy little clubs here, I feel you. Was considering opening my own at some point, if I end up saving enough." Anon nods, understanding.

"Really? Craving the more classical? Or you more of a jazz kind of..." She trails off, her eyes roaming up and down his figure.

"Human. Was thinking about one of those cozy places, let a few local, a few visiting bands play their flavors... always surprised me that a quiet town like Ponyville leaned so hard on..."

Both glance back at the DJ, before sharing a knowing look.
"Well, I'm glad to meet a kindred spirit. Maroon Marionette, not-quite-as-famous-as-I-thought Singer." She smiles, holding out a hoof.

"Delighted to meet you, Marionette. Anon the Human -- don't take it personally. You look like you could knock a room dead with your vocal exercises alone, so don't mind my ignorance." Anon returns, meeting her hoof gently, kissing the top of it. She maintains a solid eye contact, smiling softly.

"Well, you aren't one of the fifty Apples offering me a Dowry to stay in town with them, so I'll take your word for it." She laughs softly.

"Seriously? Didn't even know the other Apples were in town." Anon huffs, shaking his head.

"All preparing for a harvest, or so the twenty or so suitors assured me how they'd still have time for me despite it. It's sweet, but..." She trails off, poking her drink.

"Something tells me you're well used to that kind of approach. Otherwise, you wouldn't be buying strange creatures drinks." Anon muses, watching her idly toy with her mostly untouched purchase.

Maroon leans a little closer, her gaze heavy.
"Truthfully, my interests may lead to the more... exotic. The unusual."

Anon, in turn, leans closer, the two inching ever so slightly together.
"And you're looking for it in back-country bumpkin towns?"

She sighs softly, toying with the straw sticking out of her drink.
"Looking for something while on the road, I suppose. Fame, fortune... all leads to boredom. Just stallions that want bragging rights or colts who think I'm pretty, before they've even gotten my name."

"Nobody who gets to know you for you, huh? The mare under that dress, on her days off?" Anon gestures to her.

"Under the dress...?" She trails off, raising a brow.

Anon only smiles.
"What do you like to do when you aren't performing? You like to catch other ponies performances, or you hiding a secretive, scandalous hobby?"

"A curious creature, aren't you?" She hums, deflecting. She inches closer.

"Human's have a knack for being nosy. Call me Curious George." Anon grins widely, leaning right in her face, almost nose to nose.

"Call you... huh?" She startles slightly, blinking as he nears.

"Got you, Ladybug." Anon states firmly, poking her nose.

Her soft, playful face scrunches in frustration, hoof banging against the bar countertop, rattling her drink.
"Damnit, Nonny. I told you none of your stupid Earth references. I can't work off those."

Anon glances up the bar, ensuring their neighbors are thoroughly distracted. The loud music helps, as Anon leans close to her ear.
"That was pretty good, otherwise. You been workshopping Maroon Marionette?"

"For a few days now. Had to find a map to get my cities lined up, get a feel for Manehatten performers. Berry Punch had a few news clippings she didn't mind forking over. But did Manehatten or Vanhoover throw you off?" Maroon asks, pushing her drink away and scrunching her face after a final testing sip. "I'll never understand how they like that stuff."

Anon chuckles, shrugging.
"No clue. I've been here for how long, and I don't even know what the continent looks like. All I know is Canterlot is west-ish, and the Crystal Empire is north."

"Way to help me refine my covers, Nonny." Maroon rolls her eyes. "How'd you figure me?"

"Barely touched your drink was my biggest clue. These ponies hoover sugar like nobodies business." Anon offers.

"Ugh, tell me about it. I don't eat, period, and I have to keep regurgitating it later just to pass." She grumbles.

"...Can I --" Anon starts, but a hoof in his face pauses him.

"No, you can't watch me regurgitate, Nonny. That's disgusting." Maroon retorts quickly.

Anon hums softly, grinning at her, catching some annoyance from the red-dressed Mare in disguise.
"What?"

"You're calling me Nonny again." He says smugly.

"W-h--and? What does that matter?" Maroon squints.

"You used to say it only when you were feeding. Someone's catching feelings." Anon teases, leaning closer. Maroon was the size of the average pony, like Cosette -- which meant he could lean over her, something he couldn't really do when she was full-sized. Chrysalis picks up on this, tilting her head back to keep eye-contact as he looms over her playfully.

"Oh, shut up." She rolls her eyes, smacking his chest with a hoof. Said hoof he grabs before it can recoil, kissing it softly.

"Good choice on the drink, though. Tasty." Anon compliments. She doesn't pull her hoof away just yet.

"Thought you'd like that. You often whined about your Rum and Cokes of Earth." Maroon explains.

"Aw, you do listen to my whining, despite your claims of ignorance." Anon sighs dreamily, irritating Maroon further.
"Alright, so what do I win?" Anon leers.

Maroon frowns, glaring at him defiantly.
"You tripped me up with your stupid references. Doesn't count."

"Puh-leaze. I had you pinned the moment you bought me a drink." Anon counters.

"Pfft. Bullshit." Maroon shuts him down firmly.

"...Alright, it took me a little bit, but I still had you figured out." Anon presses nonetheless.

"You're going to pester me until you get something out of this, aren't you?" Maroon sighs, tilting her head.

Anon just smiles widely, Maroon figuring there was no way out of this.

Maroon groans, blinking slowly.
"Fine. What?"

"This." Anon says simply, reaching out for her. Maroon's eyes widen in surprise as she's pulled directly against him, chest to barrel, his mouth to hers. His tongue slips past her plush lips, Maroon's head angled up and back from their close proximity and nearly doubled height difference.

"Mm-Mpmph?!" Maroon mumbles, eyes wide, glaring a hole through him. Her hooves grab at his shirt, pulling him closer, meeting his sudden affection in an angry, potentially passionate return.

"Hey, hey. Get a room." One of the barkeeps notices, smacking the counter a few times with a hoof, forcing their parting.

Maroon wipes at the saliva string that pulls from their lips, huffing with wide eyes. Her usual means of feeding wasn't the only way to get Love into her, even if it was the purest form of transaction. But something like this? She still got a kick from it. Like a teasing appetizer.

"...Home?" Anon offers, looping an arm around Maroon.

"You take Maroon back home, and they'll start asking questions to Cosette about your flagrant flinging." Maroon retorts, shaking her head.

"That would be kind of funny." Anon snorts.

"...Subjecting the local snoops to fervent wonderings about you and Cosette's relationship?" Maroon mumbles, tapping her chin... before leaning into Anon's side, a wide grin settling on her face. "Twilight is certainly keeping an eye on you, and it would be somewhat amusing... but no, I'm not willing to damage my cover for a laugh, even if it was at the Princess' prized pupil's expense." She sighs, rolling her head upwards to stare at him.

Anon smiles down at her, sneaking a kiss on her nose that makes her face scrunch.
"Safe to assume Maroon already booked a room somewhere?"

"Maybe. She has to stay somewhere while she waits for tomorrow's train." Maroon shrugs, playing it off. "Question is... will she be spending that night alone?" She continues, rubbing against him, a hoof pressing against his stomach.

"And whose money did you use to book that? Or for buying me a drink?" Anon chuckles, Maroon's coy face swapping to one of annoyance in a snap as the pair head for the club doors.

"Oh, shut up, Nonny. You're shit at this." She groans.

Author's Note