A Walk {Open for all!}

~~~OC: Suspicious Package~~~

Package stepped out of his home and locked his front doors, setting out to take a walk across the streets of Manehattan's slums.

The stallion never worked on Fridays, and so he had everything business-related in the back of his head, the only thoughts crossing his mind being those of visiting friends and getting drunk. Checking his lock once to make sure it was secure, the Pegasus stepped off onto the sidewalk, beginning to walk in a randomly chosen direction with no real destination in mind. I'll probably just stop by the first bar I see or visit the market district or something.

As Package walked through Manehattan's slums, his gaze constantly shifted over the ponies either out and about or sitting somewhere in the shadows, his expression not conveying much emotion. He had grown up around these ponies: thieves, beggars, druggies, liars. To not see this cast of outsider would be strange for him.

The pony saw a run-down bar straight ahead about four blocks away and decided that that would be his goal. And so he walked towards it, not worried about trouble simply because, in most basic terms, his profession protected him.

Misfit was already in a bar, and nopony took much attention to her. She was decently small, especially compared to the labor stallions, and they were used to street-rats trying to persuade the bar-tender to give them a little 'sample', even though most were under-age, and all of them didn't have an extra bit to even buy a chunk of cheese, much less an expensive drink. That didn't mean they never got any, though.

But that wasn't her reason to come in. Not saying she hadn't tried getting a sip of elder wine herself, but that wasn't really a main priority. She just simply liked going there. Even though there were sometimes out-breaks of fights and it mildly smelled, it wasn't really bad at all.

Here she could be herself. The filly took up a stool, taking off her over-sized cap, crooked stitches running along the random pieces of fabric in some places, the band-aid of old tears and rips. She gently massaged the base of her horn, since it had been cooped up all day. She couldn't let it show at day. Not only did unicorn nobles seem disgusted that one of their 'magnificent' race was homeless, but also because unicorn adoptions were high at the moment, and a lot of ponies would turn her over to the orphanage. But here, being turned over to the orphanage wasn't the worst ending to some of these ponies. Here was equal ground, and that's why she liked it.

Suspicious Package soon reached the bar and entered the establishment, looking around the space within to take in the ponies that were currently there; who happened to be there, who happened to not be there. He noticed a handful of old clients, but no friends or casual accomplices, so he simply walked across the wooden floors to arrive at the bar, his default destination.

The stallion picked a random empty stool and hopped into it, taking a place between a pair of ponies having a conversation and some unknown filly. Package didn't want to interrupt the conversation, but he did turn to face the child once he had comfortably seated himself, casually greeting her with a brief acknowledgement.

"Hey there, kid!"

The bartender running the bar stopped by to take his order, and Package turned to him to ask for a drink. "One Bludon, if ya don't mind. Thanks, Mack."

Misfit took small note of the stallion sitting next to her, glancing at him. He seemed a little different then the other thieves, laborers, and common rubble found around there. His aura seemed warmer. His pose more relaxed. His mane cleaner. Could he be a noble in disguise? No, that'd be silly. But her thoughts of him being a little nicer then some of the ponies here was proven, even though it wasn't much, by his greeting.

She smiled at him. "Hey there, Mister!" She answered back as the stallion ordered a drink. Again, getting a sip of some elder wine wasn't her priority, but it was like a game, passed around the orphan circles. Well, if there was orphan circles other then the little gang the young colts make, who specifically have rules not allowing fillies to join. And personally, because they act like at, she wouldn't want to join in the first place. Still, she wondered how adults did it so easily. Even teens could get some a sample sometimes. Ah, well, it didn't really matter. But it was like a code! And codes were so hard, but so fun to crack! She listened to the stalion's request, then said her own to the bartender.

"A Blu-don for me too, thanks, Mack... On the rocks." She added the last part so it didn't sound like she was completely copying him. The bartender, a more friendlier one that she knew, luckily, just chuckled. "Nice try." He said while he got the other pony's drink ready. "Maybe next month, Missy." Misfit grinned, before glancing back at the stallion. She wanted to say something, but it probably was a bad idea. He might not be as warm as she imagined. Hay, he could be extremely dangerous, an assassin, a ninja, a member of the fedora mafia! You never know...

Swift Reaper walked into the bar, and everything got ever-so-slightly quieter. Whispers could be heard in the corners as he strode in, a pitch-black scythe at his side, his sickly-green garb paler than usual. His blue skin, minimally darker. He was a terrifying sight, striding over to the counter, scythe held at the ready. Most ponies knew about Swift, the creepy guy who lived in the graveyard and talked to himself a lot. He had been linked to several murders, but was found innocent every time.

He sat down at the bar, and the bartender quickly got him some water, which Swift dipped his scythe into. The color of the scythe seemed to meld with the water, giving the drink a somewhat evil look. He sipped it quietly before looking over at the scythe.

"So, Loom, what do you think? Are they worth anything?"

"Nope," replied the scythe, its voice seemingly cackling throughout the building. "Worthless, all of them. I'm out, this place is boring as the Starscape..." With that, the scythe disappeared, only to reappear shortly, take the blackness out of the water, and disappear again.

"Hey there, Mister!" The filly then addressed the bartender. "A Blu-don for me too, thanks, Mack... On the rocks."

A huge grin quickly appeared on Package's face when the child said this. I already like this kid. The bartender responded to her with a chuckle.

"Nice try. Maybe next month, Missy."

The bartender finished preparing the stallion's drink and came over to place it on the counter in front of him, at which point Package pulled some bits out from seemingly nowhere and placed them next to glass. The bartender picked the coins up and then moved on to another customer. Once he had done so, the Pegasus picked up his glass and chugged down half of the liquid held within, placing it down in front of the filly next to him once he had done so.

"There ya go, kid!"

The tavern doors opened as another pony entered the space, and, glancing towards the new person, Package saw that it was a Unicorn with a scythe, wearing a dark green garb. If he was to believe the nearby whispers, that pony went by the name of Swift Reaper. He'd heard of him before. Apparently some creepy guy who lived in a graveyard on his own, but he wasn't one to judge another pony based on rumors.

Snapdragon watched as the stallion chugged down at least half of the drink in gulp. It smelled kinda strange, strong, but it was nice, in a way. Like blue cheese, or caviar. Well, she's never had caviar, but she heard it had an acquired taste. Before she could react, the stallion hen plopped down the glass in front of her. "There ya go, kid!" She grinned widely up at him, taking the glass between her hooves. "Thanks!" She hadn't cracked the code, but this was the best next thing. The only drink she had really had was some aged wine that her father had once let her sip. Well, and a drink that a bartender had accidentally left out, which might have been some type of ale. And those had been good. Sure it was a little bitter at the beginning, but she was never a picky eater, especially once she became homeless.

 She then slowly lifted the glass to her lips. She only hesitated for a moment before letting some slide into her mouth. Well, she didn't gag, and that was good. Her face might have contorted a bit though, and she took a long, tightly shut blink, like she had bitten something sour. It was strong, yes, and it tasted very bitter at the beginning, the alcohol stinging her nose, but the aftertaste, the warmth that spread throughout her body, was lovely. The filly's face relaxed. It was like tasting with your throat. She didn't understand the big hype, and it would take getting used to, but it wasn't bad. Not at all. She smiled again, taking another sip, smaller, before realizing the room had quieted a little.

Midfit turned, looking at where everpony else seemed to be. It was another stallion, seated two seats over, but the seat between them were empty, and he was dressed in venom-green garb. She watched just as the scythe disappeared, before reappearing, then disappearing again. It was that one pony, the one that lived in the graveyard. Hum. Maybe he was lonely. If she lived in a graveyard, she would be lonely. Maybe he just wouldn't say it, so he seemed tough, but he was really sad inside, and everypony avoiding him didn't help. Her heart ached a little at the thought. "Hello, Mister-scythe-stallion. How are you today?" She asked quietly, even though she knew he probably wouldn't answer.

The filly turned back to the other stallion, the one who shared his drink. "Thanks again! I'm Misfit, by the way." She introduced. "What's do ponies call you?"