Octavius the Britbong, Part 1 [Octavius, Vinyl Scratch]

>You are Octavius
>And you are in your dressing room, getting ready to head home after a very long performance
>Placing your cello away into its wheeled case, you raise your hooves to your throat to unclip your bowtie and collar
>With your throat now free, you grunt as you audibly crack your neck
"Bloody hell... I needed that."
>You unceremoniously dump your obtrusive accessories into the case, closing it afterwards
>Hitching it to yourself, you're about to leave when the phone sitting on the dresser catches your attention
>You remember that Vinyl has tonight off work, and you haven't really gotten to spend much time with her recently
>Trotting back in, you hook one hoof around the hoofset, using the other to key in Vinyl's number on the rotary dial
>You hold the hoofset to your head as the phone rings once
>Twice...
>Thrice...
>*click*
>"Yo, this is Vinyl," you hear your friend answer. "Who's calling?"
"Oi, Vinyl."
>"Octavius?! Dude, it's been ages!"
"I know, right? Been bloody donkey's years. Anyway, I was thinkin'..."

>Idly, you mess up your mane with a free hoof as you trail off
>"Yeah, 'Tavius?" Vinyl's voice sounds positively enthusiastic over the receiver. "What were you thinking?"
"Well... You free around six bong? Was thinkin' we could head out for tea tonight. Just you an' me."
>"Dude, are you..." Vinyl's voice quietens down to a whisper as she answers. "Are you, like... asking..."
>Though you hold the hoofset close, you can't quite make out the last few words
"You what, mate?"
>"Huh?" Your friend seems jolted by your question. "Oh, uh... nevermind, dude," she finally answers, sighing. "So, anyway, you said six? How about seven?"
"Seven bong? Eh, I'm easy. It's a date."
>You pause, realising the potential implications of what you just said
"Uh... that is, it's um, not in the romantic sense... unless you, uh... in which case..."
>Vinyl cackles hysterically over the receiver as you fumble over your words
>"Keep digging, dude," she finally answers, suppressing her laughter to snorts. "You might reach Ger-mane-ia at this rate!"
"Get stuffed, Vinyl. Just... gah. Seven bong. I'll pick you up. Cheers."
>Finally calming down, Vinyl hmms in agreement. "Pick up at seven. Got it. See you, 'Tavius."

===

>A few hours later, you find yourself standing at Vinyl's doorstep
>You raise your hoof, reaching towards the doorbell
>Pressing it down, however, you hear nothing but a dull click
>Quietly, you grumble to yourself
"Bugger."
>You clear your throat before taking in a deep breath
"OOOOOOOOOOIIIIIIIIIIII!"
>The noise you unleash is less of a shout and more of a guttural, earth-shaking roar
>Either way, though, it certainly seems to have gotten the attention of a certain blue-maned unicorn now poking her head out of her window
>Along with every other pony on this street, it seems
>"Dude!" Your old friend glares at you, clearly irritated. "I -have- a doorbell, 'Tavius."
"Yeah, but it's knackered, innit?"
>You push the button on the broken doorbell in full view of Vinyl to emphasise your point
>"Oh." Her expression softens as she calms down. "Actually," she continues, putting a hoof to her chin, "that does explain a lot...huh."
"Yeah. So, y'just about ready up there?"
>"Almost," she says, pulling her head back in. "I'll be right there."

>Surely enough, the door opens a couple of minutes later
>Vinyl stands before you in the doorway, her mane neatly tied into a bun
>Now that you see her close-up, you're fairly certain she's also wearing at least some makeup, complete with ivory lipstick
>It's quite the contrast to your now-thoroughly scruffed hair and total lack of accessories
>Looking your friend up and down, you reach behind your neck, scratching the back of your head in bewilderment
"Why're you all tarted up like that, anyway?"
>"O-oh, um..." Vinyl's eyes shift away for a moment, seemingly nervous
>Wait, nervous?
>Since when did Vinyl Scratch get nervous? Especially around you?
>"Well, 'Tavius, you said 'tea', right?"
"Yeah, what of it?"
>"It's just, y'know," she continues, looking back to you, "all the tea parlours around Manehattan are pretty swanky, so..."
"You friggin'... ugh."
>Sighing, you bury your face into your hoof as you shake your head
"Not -that- kind of tea, Vinyl."
>Deadpan, the mare stares silently at you, awaiting your explanation
"Uh... bloody hell, what's it in Manehattanish...? Right! Dinner. We're, uh, goin' to dinner."
>"Ooohhh," she responds, nodding. "That kind of tea. Now I got you, dude."
"Yeah. Sorry 'bout that."
>The pair of you share a brief chuckle over the misunderstanding

>As the two of you quieten down, though, you come back to the subject at hand
"So, what do you reckon of goin' to that pub down the road, the ol' Red Manticore? The drinks are a bit rubbish, but their salad's the dog's bollocks."
>"I dunno, 'Tavius," Vinyl replies, "I heard they had some kind of rat problem there lately."
"Rats? Gah. Grotty little bastards..."
>You shudder as the image of a rat-infested kitchen enters your mind
"Fuck that, then. Any places you fancy goin' instead?"
>"Well..." Vinyl grins as an idea comes to her. "We could try Pony Joe's Tavern."
"Wait, Joe's runnin' a tavern now?"
>You give your friend a nonplussed expression as you speak
"I thought that ol' sod just did donuts an' donut accessories."
>"Nah, dude does all sorts of pastries and stuff now. And," she notes, growing excited, "the cider's totally kickass! Apple Family stuff, straight from Ponyville!"
"Brilliant. Let's go, then."
>"Wait."
>Vinyl's voice stops you dead in your tracks
>"I should get... this... cleaned up before we head out," she explains, gesturing with a hoof towards her face and mane
>As she reaches up to undo her bun, however, you move in towards her
>You hold her hoof still with your own, looking into her bright magenta eyes
"You're fine as is. Let's hit the frog and toad."