NeilWacaster

Newsworthy felt her warm touch against him for the briefest moment. His insides turned to jelly as he watched her ascend the stairs and disappear into her home. He just stood there, stunned, for several minutes. His eyes filled with happy tears. Am I dreaming ... If I am, I hope I never wake up ... This day simply could not get any better. He walked back to his hotel with a spring in his step and a song in his heart. Hold on ... One more time with feeling Try it again Breathing's just a rhythm Say it in your mind Until you know that the words are right ... This is, why we, fight This is, why we, fight

"Nor can I." He let the beautiful silence hang between them for a moment. His eyes glistened in the moonlight. "Goodnight, Persnickety."

A small spark of hope reignited in his heart, making him feel warm all over. A dozen thoughts ran through his mind in the blink of an eye. She does actually like me. For buck's sake, Newsworthy, are you blind? You have to remember how shy she is. For her to say something like this takes a lot of guts. She must really mean it. He decided to take her openness as an invitation to be forthright, himself. "Persnickety, it is I who should be thanking you. For everything. For actually taking the time to get to know me, for listening to me go on about everything, and for really caring. So few ponies do. You are a wonderful mare, and I am honored to know you."

"Yes, thank you." Sliding some bits under the small hole in the glass, he procured the small, yellow ticket and gave it to Persnickety. "Your magical pass to the land of drama," he said with a wink.

"Yes, thank you. I need a ticket to 'Death of a Salespony' for tomorrow night, please. If possible, could you get one next to seat B2?"

He couldn't tell whether her hesitation was from surprise or apprehension. Is she trying to avoid me? he thought, as she pointed out the brightly lit box office down the street. Darn it! You should have waited a little longer to tell her. She clearly doesn't feel the same way about you as you do about her. At least not yet. Newsworthy felt like he had just been stabbed in the gut. "Of course," he smiled weakly. "We're in luck, it looks like they're still open."

He looked down at his hooves. "Optimistic? I guess ... when you've gone as low as you can go, the only direction you can go is up." Newsworthy turned his large, blue eyes back up to look at her. "You have so much promise, Persnickety. I meet ponies from all over Equestria, but none that can compare to you." He shuffled his hooves nervously, afraid that he had said too much.

He just smiled in return. "I know what it's like. Your parents want one thing, but you finally muster up the courage to stand up to them. For me, it was quitting my job with Canterlot Daily. It paid very well, and and I learned a lot about reporting. But the ponies I had to work with ..." He shuddered. "I would wake up every day dreading to have to see them." "And now, you're where I was, not very long ago. My new newspaper bled red ink for years. Not only didn't I have any money, but I was in debt way over my head. But, I made it through. And so will you." He stopped, and looked at her with an intense gaze. "If there one thing I wish someone would have told me then, it's this: never give up. Not just long term, but from day to day. Every single day that you don't make progress postpones your eventual success."

He hoped that she wasn't trying to hide something from him. "Alright then ..." They walked slowly through the night. Some of the shops were still open, spreading pools of warm light onto the walkway. A squad of weather patrol ponies flew overhead, pushing a large cloud bank away from the city. This gave Newsworthy pause to think. If Persnickety had abided by her mother's wishes and continued in junior flight school, she probably would have a weather job like those ponies. It would be steady, well-paying government work, and would at least give her the resources to be able to enjoy the theater. On the other hoof, I don't think she would ever be happy. At least with the path she is on now, she might one day make it big. It's difficult for her now, but rather than being trapped, she's chasing what she believes in. "Persnickety?" he said finally, breaking the silence. "It takes a lot of courage to pursue your dreams. You never take the easy road. Instead, you forge your own path. I admire that about you."

For some reason or another, Newsworthy imagined a cookie jar filled with coins, the contents of which would be greatly diminished if Persnickety had to pay for the food. "Nonsense," he said in a chivalrous tone. Glancing at the bill, he pulled out his wallet and counted out the bits, adding a few extra for a tip to their host. "Thank you for the meal," Newsworthy said, as Gavril came to pick back up the ticket. "Velcome, you are velcome anytime. Any friend of Mees Peersnicketii is friend of mine." The old griffon squinted at him curiously, and chuckled. "You haff, erm ..." He pointed a gnarled claw at the top of his beak. Newsworthy wiped his face with a hoof, and realized with shame what had happened. My goddesses. I must have looked ridiculous. No wonder Persnickety was waving at me like that. Blushing a deep red, he clumsily hopped off the stool. He tried to speak casually, as if he hadn't just made a complete fool of himself. "Well, I'm off to the office box. I mean the box office. I mean ... would you ... do you ... oh hang it all." Words. You use them to speak, remember? "Um ... do you want me to see you home first, or would you like to come with?"

Look at that ponysona! It's so fluffy I'm gonna die! But seriously, I love the expression. And the curly mane is cute. Oh my goodness, does she have a foal? Because that would be adorable ...

"Indeed. May we always fully appreciate them." He gulped down the rest of his cider, leaving a conspicuous mustache of foam on his upper lip. Pushing his empty mug and bowl back, he leaned one elbow on the counter and looked at Persnickety. "If the ticket booth is still open, I'd better run by and save your seat for tomorrow. Wouldn't want to find that they were all taken, would we?"

"You're not half bad, yourself. I do have a little 'training' in it, as it were. One of my college roommates, Palétte, was an exchange student from Prance. Unfortunately, all I picked up from him were his bad sleeping habits and the ability to imitate his outrageous accent. He tried to school me in the sampling of fine wine, but it all tasted the same - disgusting. Give me a good mug of cider any day." He raised his glass. "Cheers."

At her cockney impression, Newsworthy snorted with laughter, nearly spraying cider out of his nose. "I must say, that was quite the accent. Ahem. 'Ov cauze, ze Prance ackzent iz ze one zat I favor. It iz ze language ov love, no?"

"So, what parts have you played? Any interesting stories?"

"They're always fun. The cast is so happy to have finally performed the work they've been practicing for weeks or months, and if the show was good, then the audience members are happy as well. But I'm sure you know that." He looked down at his bowl of soup. It looked like it was growing cold, so he resumed eating.

Impetuously, he felt like giving her a hug, but quickly thought better of it. Don't take things to hastily. She's very shy. Instead, he just grinned broadly, and gave a little squee of delight. "I'm so glad. It's going to be a great show. And, since it's opening night, there's an after party too, if you want to go. I have to be there, as it's my only chance to get interviews with some of the actors. Maybe you might enjoy getting the chance to talk with them?"

"Of course I want to go with you," Newsworthy said, his eyes big and pleading. "It would be my treat. Will you? Please?" ((I couldn't figure out how to describe his expression accurately. A reference picture I think will help.)) Link

"Well, I still haven't been able to get back in contact with the director, but I'm hoping once she hears the reason I missed the appointment was that we were trying to get rid of Discord, that she'll understand. I sent her two scrolls already today, but she still hasn't responded. Anyway, I'm not getting my hopes up, because the play opens tomorrow night. I'm sure she's busy. But, if you are at all interested in seeing 'Death of a Salespony,' I think there are some tickets left. I could ... we could ..."

"Les Mareserables? I've read the book, but haven't gotten to see the play yet. The reviews I've read have been glowing, it would be a great spectacle to see." With how much she loves the theater, it must be difficult for her to not be able to go see plays. I'm guessing the tickets cost too much. Wow. That would be like me not being able to afford to go to the library. Hmmm ... that gives me an idea ... "I believe that I told you I'm here to write a piece about the play over at the School of the Arts, didn't I?"

I'm reading the dusty's pub thread. Oh my goodness, these conversations are HILARIOUS.