Vinyl carried her alcohol with roughly the same precision that she carried herself while under its influence. In effect, not very well at all. A hoofful of Stagner's bottles later, and she devolved into a barely coherent mass of stumbling limbs and slurred speech. While it had crossed the minorly tipsy Octavia's mind to simply let her walk home, and maybe watch at a distance with a box of popcorn, she decided it was for the better to help her somewhere safe where she could allow her liver to slog its way through the backlog of alcohol in her system.
Thankfully Vinyl's choice in the winebar for the night had placed them within reasonable distance of Octavia's apartment. So Octavia had opted to take her home, (not that Vinyl was anywhere near capable of conveying a yay or neigh on that question.) It was due to this turn of events that Octavia found herself half-propping, half-dragging Vinyl to her home. In essence she had become a ponified crutch, and admittedly, her alcohol intake for the evening had somewhat affected her balance as well. Thankfully the fresh air was doing something to keep her lucid as she helped Vinyl along as best she could.
So, in all honesty, the pair fell down into a chaotic pile of legs and hair quite a few times. Still, Octavia felt it better than lingering in the bar. She hoped that their absence would lead the ice-cream pony to write about something less vulgar, or at the very least, something that didn't involve her. Octavia wrapped a foreleg around Vinyl, shunting the groaning mare onto her hooves...only a few more blocks now.
They passed by a public house, the bar itself packed to the brim with yobs watching their hoofball games. An incredibly overrated and culture-less past-time in Octavia's opinion. Hoof a ball in a box, doesn't take any skill or thought at all! It seemed that the game had recently ended, because as they passed by the bar, a trio of cheering and heavily intoxicated colts burst out, chorusing a hoofball chant.
It was this that roused the barely conscious Vinyl to lift her head and foreleg, waving at the colts with a cry of "Green arr-may!"
Octavia snapped Vinyl's hoof to the floor, hissing in her ear. "Vinyl, stop it. The last thing I want is a group of drunk colts to know we're a pair of barely sober fillies out on our own!"
"What's wrong Octavia?" Vinyl giggled, trying and failing to keep her head at Octavia's eye level. "Scared of a little male attention?"
"Ugh, like I'd want to spend the night with a drunken hooligan like them."
Vinyl giggled, though she'd surrendered to the alcohol and was now staring down at the floor. "So instead you're taking a drunken, filly hooligan for the night?"
"Well, I would hardly treat you in the same way one does a colt, and to be honest, you're mostly harmless anyway."
Vinyl reared up on her hind legs, blind luck and a south-westerly wind the only things keeping her upright. ""Harmless? I could bust your rump easy as pie Octavia...like apple pie...you got any apple pie at home?"
"I might do, the real question is whether I'd give you any."
"If you do, I wont beat you up...I promise."
"Truly, Vinyl, you are a gentlemare."
After much struggling and more passive threats concerning Vinyl's wish for food, Octavia finally managed to drag the filly to her home. A simple night on the couch, then she could turf her out in the morning. She left Vinyl to lean against the wall, took out her keys, opened the door, then picked up Vinyl after she inevitably fell over again. Octavia felt that tonight would be a good thing to jot on her CV, in case she ever took a job in the Marefia. In honesty, she had the body-dragging experience and the cello case now, she was probably as qualified as they come.
Vinyl was placed, rather unceremoniously, on the couch. She then proceeded to de-ceremony herself as much as ponily possible, by slumping into a sprawling position over the soft, leather surface. Irritatingly, she remained awake while Octavia opened her favourite cupboard. Naturally, contained within it was a plethora of beverages, but it was the prized Jura she extracted, tipping it into a glass, and enjoying a refreshing sip as she reclined in her own chair.
Vinyl had been watching her, while Octavia had noted the fact she was slowly slipping off the couch, but didn't feel any pressing need to help. Vinyl once more that night, found herself face down on the floor, her legs flailing a second after she landed. Octavia could only take it for a massively delayed attempt to stay on the couch. She watched Vinyl's sluggish attempts to claw her way back on to the couch, sipping the Jura. In the end, she felt it necessary to help her, if only to stay her scuffing the leather with her hooves.
"Come here you." She once more slipped her forelegs under Vinyl's form, and raised her onto the couch, repositioning her limbs to be more stable this time.
"Thanks Octy...you got any music...can't sleep without music."
"I suppose a light piece of Mozcart can help anypony to sleep."
"You put that classical junk on...and I'll snap the vinyl it's recorded on...okay?"Vinyl peeped open an eye, a playful malicious glint was visible on its surface. The tips of her lips curled upwards in a light smile. "Got anything more...my kinda thing?"
Octavia basically couldn't be bothered with the hassle of a musical argument at that point, and she doubted Vinyl's brain was receptive enough to acknowledge it anyway. She rifled through her collection of records, calling out anything that might have pleased the paralytic unicorn mare.
"Oh no, not an Apple 'n' Western...bin it if you wanna."
Octavia growled under her breath, the vocals in that album were particularly well sung. "Tank Sinatra?"
"Ughh...boooring! So slow!"
"You really are impossible...hmmm..." She pulled out a cover, lightly coated in dust. "I suppose Whinny Hendrix is too old for your tastes too?!"
"You have Whinny?!" Vinyl gasped, but not in spiteful glee as Octavia imagined she would. No, this was genuine glee.
"What sane pony doesn't?! Sure new bands like Hedged Sevenfold and Atreyu are a bit punchier, but you can't beat the ol' classics." Vinyl was a little more upright, clapping her hooves together with joy.
Octavia slipped the Vinyl onto the plate, eager for anything other than the noise of Vinyl ridiculing bands she quite enjoyed. She did enjoy Whinny, the guitar was skilfully played, and it was definitely more pronounced and thought-out than most of the screaming noise that passed for 'metal' these days. It wasn't a musician she often sought out, but thankfully, one she would happily listen to if it happened to be playing. This occasion being one such instance of that.
She stood back from the record player, the music beginning to filter through. The sound of clinking glasses alerted her to Vinyl's movements, and she found the house guest rifling her way through the drinks cupboard with her magic.
"Do feel free to make yourself at home, Vinyl."
"No problem. Say, you never said you had this stuff!" She retrieved a bottle of a rich, green liquor. Pan-Equestrian Gargle Blasters, all the power of an alicorn distilled into alcohol and served up in a bottle.
"Vinyl...I...how are you so lively all of a sudden anyway?"
"Come on, Whinny could get anypony moving! What did you buy this stuff for if you're not gunna drink it, anyway?" Vinyl poured out two glasses, and a small puddle on the carpet. It's not really easy to tell whether the carpet enjoyed the drink, the green colour the usually cream fibres took up may have been anthropomorphised sickness...or it might have just been the colour of the liquor, in all honesty.
Octavia took the offered drink, that had in turn been unspokenly unoffered to Vinyl. She had tried them before. Once. The hangover was brutal, and she felt little need to drink it more often. However, there was something about the way Vinyl gleefully offered the drinks with that fillylike glint in her eyes that put Octavia at ease. She carefully sniffed the drink, remembering the not-so-delicate allure of paint thinner on its scent. Vinyl sniffed her own, her snout wrinkling at the smell.
"That'll put you into an early retirement! Alright...3...2...1...Slug!"
The pair downed the drinks, Octavia felt her world instantly get pounded six ways from sunday in an instant. It became suddenly very difficult to orchestrate the myriad of leg muscles required to keeper upright, and she plummeted to the floor in a barely conscious alcoholic haze.