Alastair Equus

Alastair tugged irritably at the neck of his new shirt.

It wasn’t that Rarity had made it too small around the collar; in fact, it was one of the nicest shirts he’d ever worn-it didn’t even have that uncomfortably-starchy-pre-washed feeling most button-up shirts came with.

It was a bit irritating for him, having not only to wear a tie, but to have the top button done up; all throughout his ten years at a private school, he’d been forced to wear formal uniforms, but had always managed to evade notice when he went lax on certain policies; wrong shoes, wrong colour socks, missing blazer… but mainly he left the top buttons of his shirt un-done; they just frustrated him.

His years working at a grocery store had made those buttons even worse for him; the company supplied all of its employees with store-logo-branded clip-on ties, thus ensuring that the top buttons of the shirts had to be done up; it would look sloppy and obvious otherwise. His dislike of them had been further enforced by the fact that most of his old-school shirts, the only ones he owned that fit the company’s policy, were at least a size too small around the neck, giving him the distinct impression of being slowly strangled whenever he went to work.

These past experiences, when all put together, ensured that the human would forever more despise those buttons; whenever he’d had a hankering to wear a formal shirt to his later jobs, he’d always ensure that at least the top two buttons were always undone, if not the top three.

But tonight, he was mainly just nervous, and so tugged away.

“Alastair, dear, do stop that! You’ll tear off a button!” Alastair responded with a despondent ‘Enhh…’, but stopped his half-hearted attempts to destroy the seamstresses work.

Instead, he turned to methodically cracking any and every joint in his body that he could.

It was a nice suit, after all; one that he could easily picture his favourite spy wearing around ‘Universal Export’, his cover-job. It wasn’t the ensemble that he would have preferred, the one belonging to his favourite villain, the one an old friend of his had jokingly re-named ‘Scary-Mama’, just to get on Al’s nerves. When he had requested the piece of Rarity, however, she had been vehemently against it.

“Good gracious, no! I refuse; I will not have one of my customers, my friends, parading around in such a travesty!”

“But-“

“No! White? White pants, white shirt, white vest, white jacket? White shoes? Good heavens no!”

“It is my-“

“I’ll not hear another word of it! I don’t care that the customer’s always right, that is just wrong! Besides, darling,” She’d purred, gently drawing a finger along his jawbone, causing his entire body to freeze up, “Darker colours suit you so much better, don’t you agree?”

And so, he’d settled with the traditional spy outfit he was wearing now.

It was shortly after six as the small group made slow progress from Twilight’s library towards Ponyville’s park; Rarity had insisted on them waiting at least a quarter of an hour after the party was supposed to start before leaving; “It’s always better to be fashionably late; you’ll draw more attention with your entrance that way.” This one sentence caused Al to try and argue that they should arrive at four o’clock, instead. Either that or ten.

Alastair stopped for a second as they passed the Carousel Boutique; the normal displays of fancy ball-gowns and tuxedo’s had been replaced, on surprisingly short notice, with costumes more suited for tonight’s festivities; namely, suits and dresses that looked like they wouldn’t be out of place during the mid 1950’s. But…

“Hey, Twi?” He’d cautiously adopted Applejack’s nickname for the librarian, but since she didn’t seem to mind it, he’d kept it up throughout the day. His friend turned towards him at hearing her name, arching an eyebrow. The human stifled a laugh; with her perfunctory work suit, half-moon glasses, and hair drawn back into a tight bun, she looked almost exactly as he’d pictured his one-time idol’s secretary - aside from the fact that in his imagination, she’d never been a mare. Mish Munneh-Penneh, he’d been tempted to drawl more than once that evening. Instead, he carried on with his query. “Has there ever been something called a ‘Cold War’ here?”

His friend briefly frowned, but shortly shook her head. “No, not that I’ve heard of. Sounds like something that would involve the Griffons, though, doesn’t it?” Seeing his blank look, she explained. “Well, their country is Equestria’s northern neighbour, and they tend to live on mountain sides… where it’s cold?”

Alastair silently nodded, eying the other mare’s clothes as he turned back to his musings. No Cold War… so why the identical time-period spy wear? …or at least the period depicted in the movies? For some reason, he didn’t think the movies stuck quite true to the books.

Rarity was garbed in a tight, form-fitting, black business-type suit, with a silky white ascot puffing out at her throat; the typical villainess. “Everypony knows that evil always dresses more fashionably!” She’d explained when asked on her choice.

Rainbow Dash, however… when Alastair first saw her in her outfit, he’d been struck speechless, not even noticing that his jaw had dropped open, even when a smug Rarity closed it for him.

Where Rarity’s suit was tight, Rainbow’s dress was sleek; the strapless, red satin dress clung seductively to her figure, falling smoothly down, barely touching the ground. A slit ran up the right side of the dress, stopping mid-thigh, allowing brief glimpses of a nicely toned, sky-blue leg to show with every step she took. Even her hair had been worked for the evening; where normally it was a layered, stylized mess, tonight it looked as though Rarity had taken extra care with it, smoothing it out with a straightener, so that it fell in silky waves. She even looked as though she’d had touches of make-up added; a hint of blush here, a trace of eye-liner there… overall, the effect was startling, and Alastair caught himself staring at her several times that evening. When he’d tried to think of something, anything to say to compliment her, the only thoughts traveling through his head were along the lines of ‘hot diggity’ and ‘da-yum’; he’d wisely decided to keep his mouth shut.

As the small group rounded the next corner, Alastair stumbled a step; right ahead of them, at the end of the street, was the park, and as Rarity had assumed, most of the residents of Ponyville were already milling about. “Are you sure Spike doesn’t need any help?”

“Yes, Al; he has looked after the library on his own before, and what with everypony in town being here, at the party, there should be very little for him to do as it is! Besides, he has Owlicious to help him!”

Alastair grimaced at the mention of everypony being there that night, but wearily trudged along with the group, head hanging low as he stared at the ground.

In a matter of minutes, the entourage had arrived at the gate to the park, with Rarity taking the lead, happily striding ahead, showcasing her work; nobody paid her any attention, however. Huffing in frustration, her dramatic pose degraded into a more sullen one as she folded her arms beneath her breasts, encompassing the entire population of Ponyville in her glare. “Well! These ingrates wouldn’t know good fashion sense if it tied a bow around their necks!” Her expression turned more confused as no-one even seemed to hear her outburst.

“Oh Rarity!” Turning towards the voice hailing her, she saw Rainbow Dash nonchalantly looking off into the crown, while repeatedly pointing a finger at the slouching human. Approaching him, she saw his lips moving, the muttered sounds getting lost in the babbling conversations of the crowd.

“Alastair, darling…” The subject of her ire flinched, biting his lip, feeling suddenly ill from the poison dripping off of her words. “You wouldn’t happen to be singing, would you?”

Grimacing at his bad fortune of being caught so soon, he glared at the fashionista. “No, I would never dream of it.” He growled, but the sudden attention the group drew from the crowd disproved his words.

Smiling once more as her group became the centre of attention, Rarity briefly slid her gaze over the crowd, before sauntering off. “Oh Tanny, darling, wherever did you get that dress?”

Transferring his glare from the unicorn as she was swallowed by the crowd to the Pegasus next to him, Alastair silently shook his head. Rainbow Dash, on the other hand, just smiled innocently. “I didn’t do anything!”

Any response he could have made was cut off by a hyperactive voice in his ear. “YOU GUYS MADE IT!” Wincing, he turned to Ponyville’s premier party pony.

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” Alastair’s sarcasm was lost on his friend, however, as she turned her back, scanning the crowd.

“Did you guys see Spitfire around here? I was just talking to her a moment ago, but then I saw you, and then she disappeared!”

This single statement had a profound effect on the blue Pegasus; her surprisingly quiet attitude vanished entirely, eyes widening as she levitated off the ground several inches, due to her wings flapping. “Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh! Spitfire’s here?”

Pinkie grinned widely at her friends, but to the shock of anypony who happened to be looking at her (many of whom ran for cover), her smile slipped when Alastair spoke up. “Really? You guys have spitfires here? Cool! Where?”

Pinkie quickly recovered, however; “Golly, did I say Spitfire, I meant Soarin’! But could you imagine how awesomely fantastic it would have been if she were here? Ooh, or the entire Wonderbolts team! Then they could have done their zip-zoom-flying routine, and written all across the sky, announcing that Al Is Here! That would have been sooooo awesome I’ll have to remember that for the next welcome party I throw though it may be difficult to get them all on such short notice but it would be sooo awesomely-super-dee-duper-dee-mazing!”

The blue speedster, if anything, looked even more excited by this news, and almost flew off as soon as the name ‘Soarin’’ left Pinkie’s mouth. A quick glance at Alastair stalled her, however, and she let out a sigh, slowly floating back down to earth. “Hope we meet up with him sometime tonight.”

Shaking his head with a rueful chuckle, Alastair waved a hand at his polychromatic friend. “Go, have fun. Don’t let me drag you down!”

“Are you sure…?”

“Go!” He let out a laugh as his friend disappeared into the crowd. Wondering briefly how she managed to go so fast without hitting anyone else, he shook his head. “Well, looks like it’s just the three of…” A quick glance around showed the confused human that Twilight had also managed to make herself scarce. “Us…” He eyed Pinkie warily.

Seemingly unaware of the scrutiny she was under, Pinkie happily roped Alastair with an arm around his neck, pulling him close. “Don’t worry, your Aunty Pinkie will stick to you like are those hors d'oeuvres?!?”

Alastair desperately grabbed onto his friends sleeve, but promptly found himself holding an empty jacket, wondering how Pinkie Pie had managed to get out of it without undoing the buttons. Remembering that she was, in fact, Pinkie Pie caused him to heave a sigh. Well, looks like it’s just you and me, Slick, he thought, eyeing the strange crowd around him warily. …Slick? There was no response from his head. Bollocks. At least this night can’t get any worse.

“Hello, Teddy.” Turning to the voice behind him, Alastair found himself face-to-face with an awfully familiar, awfully angry looking turquoise mare.

“What is the number one rule of the theatre!” He angrily hissed at himself.

***

Applejack rested her head on her fist, eyes idly roaming over the crowds of ponies in front of her. The Apple stall had had its share of business in the first hours of the evening, but no-where near what she’d been hoping for; after all, there’d never been any apple cider mentioned in any of the ‘James Colt’ books, but instead mostly martini’s. Berry Punch seems to be doing well… she enviously glanced over at her competitors stall, and sure enough, there was a steady stream of customers.

“Well howdy, honey!” Glancing up, she felt a wide smile split her face.

“Howdy yerself, sugar cube! Ain’t it a bit soon fer y’all to be callin’ me ‘honey’?”

Giving her his best ‘you’ve got to be kidding me’ look, Alastair retorted “Coulda said the same thing to you the first day we met, ‘suga’!”

“Good point!” Applejack gave a throaty chuckle. Pushing herself up off the counter, she spread her hands before her. “So, what can I do y’all for?”

Leaning casually against the bar, the human made a show of looking at the display behind the farmer. “Are they still watching me?” He whispered, so low that it almost evaded Applejack’s hearing.

“Who?” She asked, curiously eyeing the crowd, most of whom were in turn looking curiously at her friend.

“Everyone, anyone!” he hissed, uncomfortably scratching at the back of his neck.

“Eeyup.” She replied, doing a fair impression of her brother.

Muttering a sullen oath, Alastair grimaced at the wood counter top in front of him. Rolling his eyes up, he flashed the farmer a crooked grin. “In that case, I’d love the biggest mug of your cider you got.”

“Ya sure ‘bout that, sugar cube?” she tentatively cautioned.

“Cider. Now.” Shrugging, she grabbed a mug from beneath the counter, filling it from the tap next to her; she’d seen his drinking at the last party, and knew that, while not the strongest drinker, he could hold at least a couple fairly well.

Gratefully grabbing it, he took a quick swig. Sighing through his teeth at the dull burn of the alcohol, he licked his lips, smiling. “Alrighty then! How much d’I owe you?”

Chuckling again, Applejack shook her head. “No can do, love; Pinkie’s rules. Guest of Honour never pays.”

Shrugging, Alastair merely nodded. “Well in that case… WHAT’S THAT BEHIND YOU?”

Despite how obvious the ploy was, she nevertheless instinctively turned around, expecting the worst. Seeing no manticores or Ursa Majors, she suspiciously looked back over her shoulder; her friend had disappeared off into the crowd. Where his drink had been, however, were two bits, one still lazily spinning. Giving a quick snort of laughter, she shook her head. “That sneaky son of a gun…”

She smiled, however, seeing that several ponies seemed to want to emulate the foreign human tonight, and approached her stall.

Alastair’s Drinks: 1.

***

Alastair happily hummed to himself as he slid his way through the crowd; one of the many talents he had honed to a fine skill, that, being able to slide around people without touching them, even through spots people wouldn’t think physically possible. Sipping his drink, he idly wondered if perhaps he had a skill akin to Pinkie’s. Perhaps I could talk to her about teaching me… Oh well, problem for another day.

The conversation with Lyra hadn't been as bad as he'd expected; once he explained his situation, she'd been sympathetic to his plight. As it turned out, she was just deeply fascinated with humanity as a whole, and wanted to learn more about him.... Still, he was considerably happier now that he had a drink; he didn’t drink often, only really four times in the past nineteen years that he could think of, not including the occasional glass of wine at Christmas. Despite that, however, he’d found one thing to be conclusive throughout each and every of those four times; alcohol made him open up. Where normally he was the shy guy hiding in the corner, give him a couple of drinks, and he’d be out conversing with the best of them.

That being said, he still jumped, startled when a passing person hailed him. Taking a re-enforcing sip of his cider, he forced a smile on his face, approaching the oncoming conversation.

***

“Ta-ta, darling! We must talk again soon!” Rarity happily flounced away from Candy Mane; it was always nice catching up with old friends, and seeing her dress (straight off the cat-walk from Manehattan, no less!) had given her several ideas for her own next fashion line.

Glancing about herself, she was perplexed to note that her own entourage had vanished. “Well, they must have simply wandered off as some point or another!” She huffed, momentarily put out.

“Oh Cherry!” She sang out as she waved to a passing stallion, quickly drawing him into a conversation, worries of her friends quickly forgotten.

***

“Yes, well, it’s been a pleasure meeting you! Hope you enjoy the rest of the party!” Alastair had already lost track of how many people he’d met tonight; on the best of days, he’d be lucky to remember the name of someone he’d just met ten minutes after being introduced, but tonight, the wave of introductions had never ended, so he settled into just smiling and nodding for the most part, avoiding names as best he could.

He’d avoided the DJ booth and the dance-floor with a passion; while a large portion of the crowd seemed to be living it up out there, he still didn’t enjoy dancing like that at all. Fortunately for him, Pinkie was nowhere to be seen, and hadn’t tried to drag him over there yet.

He tried to take another gulp of his cider, but was thoroughly shocked to find his mug already empty. Haven’t drunk that much already, have I? Shrugging philosophically, he made his way back to Applejacks stand; finding it very busy, he stealthily slid his now-empty mug onto the counter, next to a pile of others. Sneaking away as best he could so that his friend couldn’t try to force his money back at him, he shortly found himself at a less-crowded stall – in fact, it was next to deserted.

Sidling up to the counter, he rolled his head over, looking at the bartender. “I’ll have a vodka martini; Shaken, not shtirred.” He drawled in his best ‘Sean Connery ‘accent.

It seemed good enough for the woman in front of him, as she let out a giggle at it. “Hey, that’s the best one I’ve heard all evening!”

Puffing out his chest at the praise, he modestly bowed his head. “Well, let’s just say I have a gift for it.” His wondering how they knew what the famous actors’ voice sounded like was cut off as he looked back up, seeing the bartender pull out a stainless steel shaker. “No, no! Just kidding, no vodka!” He quickly flailed his hands in front of him. “Just said that for the line!”

Laughing as she tucked the shaker back into its spot beneath the bar, she quirked an eyebrow at him. “What can I get you, then?” Giving him a quick nod, she extended her light-purple hand. “The name’s Berry Punch.”

Alastair heartily returned the shake. “Alastair. What’ve you got?”

The purple mare in front of him swept a hand, gesturing at the shelves behind her. “You name it, we’ve got it.”

“Spiced rum?” The request was returned with a nod. “I’ll have a rum and coke, then.” At the confused look, he amended his request. “Rum and cola?” A nod. “How much’ll I owe you?”

“No charge; Pinkie’s rules.”

“Really? You don’t say…”

Alastair’s Drinks: 2.

***

Rainbow Dash, huffed, looking about herself in a growing mix of anger and confusion. A couple of wolf-whistles had convinced her to abandon her search from the air, but even on foot, after several hours, she should have found him by now!

Quickly pushing her way through the crowd, she shortly found not the colt she was looking for, but the next best person. “Pinkie!”

Hearing the hail, the pony in question turned around, beaming as she saw her friend. “Dashie! Are you enjoying the party? I know I’m enjoying it, but then again, when’ve I never not enjoyed a party, well except for the Gala but that wasn’t a real party that was a boring party not like this party which is so much fun are you having fun you didn’t say yet but I think you are you lo-“ Her tirade was cut off by a light blue hand clamping itself over her muzzle.

“Have you seen Soarin’ at all lately?” The Pegasai inquired.

“Mff mf, mfff mff mnn mn mff-ff!” Dash took her hand off her friends’ mouth, asking the pink pony to repeat herself with a no-nonsense look. “Oh no, not since that time at the Gala! You know, when you tried to catch that big ol’ statue of Celestia, but it caused all the pillars in the room to fall over when Applejack’s cake went flying and Fluttershy-“ Again, she was cut off by a light blue hand.

“What.” The single word was accompanied by a glare that would have frozen an entire ocean on the hottest day in summer.

“Yeah, he’s not here, silly!”

“Then why did you say he was?”

“To get you away from Al! He was being all grumpy-pantsy, wanting to be with us all night! I figured, best way for him to go out and make new friends is to not be surrounded by old ones! Kinda like how the best way to teach someone how to swim is to throw them in a lake!”

Rainbow Dash buried her face in a palm, carefully worked hair falling forward. After several deep breaths, she hissed at her friend. “That’s exactly what he wasn’t wanting.”

What the speedster said didn’t seem to compute with the party pony. “Why wouldn’t he want to make new friends?” She asked, the concept being completely foreign to her.

“Not that, he wasn’t wanting to be alone at the centre of attention! He’s shy! Would you have done that to Fluttershy?”

“Oh.” Pinkie let the onslaught of information settle in for a moment, her previous bubbly attitude vanishing. “Do you think he’s upset?”

“Very likely, yes.”

Pinkie’s hair seemed to droop at this, her colours seeming to fade, although it may have just been a trick of the evenings’ lights. “…so he’s not enjoying the party?”

Rainbow Dash sighed, seeing her friend on the brink of becoming depressed. “No, he’s probably enjoying it fine, just… coulda been enjoying it more if we were there with him. That said, I gotta go find him, cheer him up. You should cheer up, too!” She lightly bopped her friend under her chin, Pinkie’s colours already returning. Seeing her friend return to normal, she quickly flew off into the night sky, in search of a different man this time; the crowd was already thinning out as the party wound down, aiding her in her search.

A wolf-whistle stopped her in her tracks, however. “You want a piece of me?!”

***

“And… and all the while, they thought it was Conrad under the seats, when it was really me!” Alastair gasped for air, he had been laughing so hard. Why am I telling this story? A part of his mind wondered, remembering the exceptionally embarrassing night in vivid detail. Bah, whatever, it’s a funny story! Sure enough it was, as his audience was laughing along with him.

He blinked several times in confusion at the empty plastic cup in his hand. Wasn’t this full just a second ago? Shrugging happily, he nodded a fair-well to the group, spinning around, searching for the edge of the greatly diminished crowd.

“Barkeep!” He exclaimed, landing heavily upon his arm on the counter, “Another drink, if ye’d be soo kind!” He slapped down a couple of coins; Berry (he was fairly certain that was still her name, but he couldn’t be sure) had tried to tell him a couple of drinks ago that it was still free, but he insisted; “It doesn’t feel right, taking so much and giving nothing in return!” So, they’d finally agreed; she’d accept his payments, but at a reduced cost.

“An’ I’ll proba-bably be seein’ you tomorrow or tha’ next day ‘bout getting’ some for home, too!” He announced cheerily as she passed him another drink. He briefly wondered Where is home? as he wove his way through the dark trees, but the thought sailed away into the night.

Alastair’s Drinks: 5.

…or maybe 6? Definitely no more than 6.

…7?

***

Applejack happily finished turning her stall back into a portable cart; the party had finally wound down, and despite the slow start, business had picked up dramatically after Alastair’s visit. Stifling a yawn, she glanced wearily towards the clock tower; squinting, she could see that it said it was well after two in the morning. Definitely past time to be heading home to bed.

Lost in happy thoughts of sleeping in, now that Applebucking season was finished, she paused as she was about to leave the park. Frowning, she cocked her head; yes, that was someone singing softly. Quite out of tune, too. Chuckling, she shook her head, about to carry on her way home when paused again. Although distorted by distance, echoes, and its plain-out out-of-tunedness, the voice sounded familiar.

Leaving her cart by the side of the path, Applejack slowly wound her way through the dark trees, pausing every few seconds to try and locate the source of the singing; Would be easier if ye’d sing louder, not softer! Sure enough, the voice was growing fainter.

After many minutes of tracking, she almost tripped over the prone figure in front of her, merrily murmuring to himself “…and autumn leeeaaaaves, lie thick and stiiiiiill, but we will still rise, noooooow, and beeee-“

“Al!”

The human in questions’ head bobbed up, blearily looking around. “Hey there, yoooouuu!” He reached out, tugging at her leg. “Take a seat, why don’cha! ‘S a bee-oootiful night!”

Applejack was easily able to resist the humans’ feeble attempts to bring her down, however. “Are ye drunk, Al?” She asked, looking down at him with a mixture of worry and amusement.

“Naaw!” He merrily rolled his head over to the side, then back again. “Lee-tle.” He held up a hand, pinching the fingers close together.

“Come on, sug,” Applejack grabbed the downed human by the arm, pulling him to his feet. Snugging an arm around his back with his draped across her shoulders, she supported most of his weight, slowly heading back towards her cart. “Let’s get you home, eh?”

He let out a short giggle at this request. “You’re Canadian!” After a brief bout of laughter, he paused, looking around himself with an unfocused gaze; he seemed to notice for the first time that they were alone. “Where’d everyone go?”

“Well, party’s windin’ down, and ye’re a bit off the beaten track!”

“Oooh, riiight! …where are the others?”

“Dunno, haven’t seen them all night.” She replied with a shrug. “Thought they came with you?”

“Oh, aye, but Rarery left to talk to dresses, Twilight went poof, Pinkie arrived with a poof then left with a poof, then Rainbow poofed to talk to a plane…”

“…ye really are drunk, ain't ya, Al?”

“Nonsense!” Pushing himself away from the farmer, Alastair went striding on ahead, not a trace of a wobble to be seen. “Perfectly sober!” A moment later, however, he snorted out a laugh. “…’kay, little less than sober… Just drunk ‘nough to talk, though! You see, no drinks, I’m like this.” He clenched his hands together, fingers interwoven. Rolling his head around to look at the tan farmer, he explained, completely serious. “I’m a clam. All... shut up and clammed. No pearls in me, just a clam. But when drinked a few…” His hands unfurled. “I unclam! I talk! Talkative. Talky talk talk. I become fluently eloquent. More open, no more shy guy me; he go bye-bye. Let loose aaa-all secrets… even dark ones…” His expression clouded over, and Applejack could tell she’d lost him.

“Ya know, sugar, no-one minds if ye’re not all that talkative; just look at Fluttershy! She’s the shyest gal around, yet we all love her all the same!”

“Ah, but she’s not here tonight, is she?” Alastair came out of his reverie, pointing a slightly waving finger in her general direction. “Nooo, shy girl gets to stay home, but not shy guy, noooo! He gets whole party for himself! And so, drinks to talk!” He quickly degenerated into a fit of giggles.

Shaking her head, Applejack once more slipped an arm around the inebriated humans’ shoulders. “Come on, sugar cube…” she said, gently steering him towards her cart again.

“Do you want to know a… secret?” Al whispered, barely audible, had Applejack not been as close as she was.

“What’s that?” She asked absentmindedly, more worried about the unseen roots and stones in the dark than what the human was saying.

“I’m Batman!” He growled, before bursting into another fit of laughter. “No, no…” he managed to gasp a couple of seconds later, as Applejack happily noticed the path ahead of them; her cart was still where she’d left it, just as she’d expected; several late revelers where still traversing the path, but most of the ponies in town were trustworthy and honest enough that she hadn’t had to worry about it being stolen.

“You’re pur-dy!” Darting in, he pecked the surprised girl on the cheek, before prancing off into the night.

Applejack stood there, shocked, barely even registering the sound of a muffled *thud* coming from off in the darkness, quickly followed by a “Son of a bitch!” and another *thud*.