fandomtownies | The Devil's Nest: Saturday, 9/24

A job was a job was a job, and since Bo had pants now, her list of excuses for not showing up at the bar was whittled down to 'Eric might laugh at me' which, eh. She'd looked in the mirror, thanks. If anybody laughed at anything about this version of her body, it would be at her flailing over it, so she'd just not be doing that. No matter how much she wanted to.

The walk into work might have been spent actively practicing lack-of-flail -- complete with made-up conversations where she casually explained her identity and gave a charming wink, which on reflection might have worked better in her head than out loud and addressed to what she thought was a lamp-post but turned out to be that one really tall clerk from J,GoB out for a smoke.

The sad part of all that was how Eric wasn't there and Tiny didn't even ask. He just pointed out the drink specials board, handed her the bar towel he'd been mopping up with, and muttered something about paying him back by never mentioning 'Tina' after his turn came around.

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Not looking at the place where you could usually... horses. NOT LOOKING. "Um. Sorry? I'm not used to guessing genders on ponies, I guess. Plus you're all, you know. Pink and pretty."

Twelve. God, the itch to braid Pinkie Pie's mane.

Pinkie was a fan of mane braiding, actually. Especially if it was at a mane braiding party.

"But my nose is all. . . ." Pinkie poked at the end of her nose with her hoof. "Coltish!" She shook herself. "What does being pink and pretty have to do with a pony's gender?"

"...You know, probably not much. I offer up a childhood full of sexist but really cute toys as my only excuse." Bo shrugged helplessly. "I should really know better; the weekend I was a pony, Mitchell was much pinker and prettier than me." Neener.

"That was the best weekend ever! Let's do that one again!"

"I missed having hands," Bo said, shaking her head. "Though now that I know my boots won't stay pony-shaped when it's over, I guess it wouldn't be so bad." Priorities: Bo can has.

Pinkie gasped. "Your boots were shaped like ponies?!"

"...No. My boots were shaped for ponies. They fit hooves instead of feet."

"Sooooo they were just normal boots?" Pinkie didn't see what was so special about that.

"They wouldn't have been normal if they stayed that way when I turned human again." Yes, Bo, it was sad that your boots were your biggest worry when you turned into a pony.

Now Pinkie was confused. She responded to this in the way she usually did when something was out of her realm of knowledge.

"I like cupcakes!"

Randomly.

And yet it was such a perfect thing to come out of a pink pony's mouth that Bo couldn't manage to be surprised by it. "Somehow that doesn't surprise me." See? "I don't think we have any cupcakes, but we do have some cake-flavoured vodka."

"Cake flavored? Ooooo! I wanna try that!"

It was possible that Pinkie wasn't entirely clear as to what vodka was. But, well, she had a lot of physical bulk to absorb alcohol. . . .

"Can ponies drink vodka?" Bo knew from experience that they could eat popcorn, at least, but she hadn't tried vodka. They certainly couldn't drink it from a shot glass, anyway, which led to her turning around to survey the available receptacles as she asked the question.

"I don't know, is it magic?"

Ponies could drink from anything! They usually used straws.

Bo grinned. "I know some people who'd say so, but no, it's just strong. Will, um, an ice bucket work?" She might need help to come to the 'straw' conclusion. And then she'd feel really dumb that she hadn't tried it herself when she was a pony.

"Work for what?" Pinkie titled her head, peering behind the bar. "Oh, look at the pretty little glasses!"

"To put the vodka--" Bo held up the open bottle, which, oh God, did smell exactly like cake. Alcoholic birthday cake. "--in so you can drink it."

"Is that traditional?"

"Er... no? But..." Bo waved at the pretty glasses. "Can you drink out of those?"

"I can drink out of anything!" Pinkie declared. She peered around behind the bar again. "Do you have any straws?"

"...Yes. They're over here with my feelings of extreme dumbness."

That would be Bo fetching a shot glass and a straw. A purple swirly straw.

"Oh, you're not -- OOOOOOOOOOO." Pinkie broke off in the midst of reassuring Bo to admire the purple swirly straw. "It's like my friend Rarity's hair in straw form!"

The Devil's Nest: Saturday, 9/24

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