NeilWacaster

He looked sheepish. "I look ridiculous in this getup. I'm so used to the hoity-toity productions that I forgot this one was less formal. I know it's silly, but I feel like everypony is looking at me." This was true, although the real reason he had dressed up was because he thought Persnickety would like it. A distressing thought struck him. I really hope that she doesn't feel like my appearance outshines hers. For most mares that I've known, that would not be good at all.

'You may have been more help than you think ...' I wonder what she meant by that?

"I haven't had the pleasure of meeting Mrs. Dazzle yet. Perhaps you could introduce me, if she is able to attend." Her words caused Newsworthy to think back to his foalhood. "I remember when my sister was born. New parents have no time for anything, so I wouldn't be surprised if she's absent, at least from the after party."

As they got closer to their destination, more and more ponies filled the streets, all heading in the direction of the large auditorium on the university campus. Carriages bustled to and fro, dropping off ponies and returning to pick up more theater-goers from the nearby hotels.

Newsworthy noted with dismay that only a few of the ponies had decided to dress up as much as he had. Most had simply come au naturel, or wore a simple collar, hat or jewelry.

Oh well. Being well groomed can't hurt my reputation with the high-society ponies that will be at the after party. Perhaps there I won't stick out like a sore hoof.

"I certainly was no help, what with this gimpy wing," Newsworthy said, looking back at his injury. "Oh well. I'm just glad that somepony got the recognition she deserved." He smiled at Persnickety.

He stuffed the newspaper into his bag. Maybe he would have more time later to finish reading the rest. "That reminds me! Did you hear that Vainglorious is coming to the opening? She's going to be one of the VIP guests at the reception. I can't wait to ask for her tips on how to improve my theater critiquing skills!"

"Well, I hope you'll like it. The ending is a little sad, if I remember correctly, but it's definitely one that makes you think." They passed by a large newsstand filled with magazines and papers. Newsworthy had been so preoccupied all day that he had completely neglected his morning ritual of newspaper reading. A headline caught his eye.

DISCORD STRIKES AGAIN! PONIES SAVE CITY FROM CERTAIN DESTRUCTION!

Rushing over, he quickly purchased a paper. Scanning the article, he motioned to his date. "Persnickety ... I think you might want to see this."

STALLIONGRAD -- The draconequus Discord was apprehended by the city's mages today, in a small café in Stalliongrad. Officials are baffled at how three musicians, named Deep Bass, Sydphony, and Persnickety, were able to take down the mighty demigod. According to the owner of the café, who witnessed the entire event, Discord appeared in pony form and caused various forms of mischief before challenging these musicians to a musical duel. Even though he claimed to have won this duel, the musicians and other patrons of the establishment wrestled him to the ground and held him down until the authorities arrived. Official reports are still pending, but according to the police, Discord has been deported to Canterlot to be dealt with by Princess Celestia herself. ...

The article continued, but it was mostly filler, containing a number of interviews with other patrons who had been at the scene. However, a little snippet at the end caught his attention. "Needless to say, the citizens of Stalliongrad owe these three musicians their lives."

"Well. What do you know. You may not have fortune, just yet, but it looks like you garnered a little fame."

That's awesome. I can't wait

They walked down the steps and began traversing the sidewalk. In the distance, they could see the tall clock tower marking the location of the Stalliongrad School of the Arts.

The air was chilly, but the sky was clear, and the winter sun lent a little warmth.

Newsworthy realized that he should have spent some of his time the previous night thinking of interesting topics to bring up throughout the course of the evening. He thought hard, trying to start the conversation off on the right hoof. After a moment, he struck upon something.

"So, what do you know about 'Death of a Salespony?' I believe I read it in a literature class at some point, but don't remember much about it."

I don't know who the characters are, but I've seen them on your DA page before. They look SO COOL!

He thought that she looked a little different with her mane in a bun. "Well, erm ... perhaps I overdid it. Don't worry about it at all, you look lovely."

Blushing, he held out the roses to her. "I ... got these for you. I thought you might like them."

Well ... now what.

He turned in surprise when he heard the voice of the mare, nearly dropping the flowers. Spitting them into a free hoof, he bowed slightly. "Why no, my good lady. I am taking Miss Persnickety to a play later this evening. The name's Newsworthy. And you are?"

Newsworthy had hardly slept at all, out of excitement and nervousness. He wanted to make sure this day was perfect for Persnickety. Since he had plenty of time to ponder, and he couldn't make himself think about anything else, he spent most of the night devising a plan. When he awoke from his light sleep, he immediately started ransacking the florists in town. It had taken most of the day, but he had finally found an obscure horticulturalist who grew roses almost exactly the color of Persnickety's teal mane. After this, he rented a sharp tuxedo, and had himself professionally groomed. It felt a little odd to smell like lavender, and he much preferred his mane and tail in his normal, unkempt style, but hoped that it would please her. By the time he left the groomer's, it was almost time to pick her up.

As he walked through the street toward her flat, he could feel his heart beating quickly in his chest. Everything had gone so well, yesterday. If he was lucky, he wouldn't do anything stupid today.

He reached her house, and trotted up the steps. He paused before the door, and took a long, deep breath. This is it.

Pulling the bouquet of a dozen blue roses out of his saddlebag, he held them in his mouth as he knocked lightly on the door.

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?"