Octavia walked into the small apartment. She wasn't often one for intruding into other ponies' homes, but in her defence, Vinyl had left the door wide open. She entered the home, evading the various forms of detritus that scattered the apartment. She tip-hoofed into the bedroom, finding her quarry fast asleep, at a considerably late hour as well.
Octavia loomed over the unconscious mare, once more prodding her hoof sharply into her withers. Ponies are not often known for their burrowing capabilities, but Vinyl managed to counteract both nature and Charles Darwhinny, and evolved the ability to burrow ever deeper into her covers to avoid Octavia.
"Honestly Vinyl, will you just get up? It's ten in the morning!"
Vinyl's eyes peeped out from her warren in the bedsheets. "But it's Sunday! Nopony gets up early on Sunday, and I'm still hung over from those Gargle-Blasters."
"We had those three days ago, you really are a lightweight. Now up! I have an audition to go to today, and I'd like you to accompany me."
Vinyl exited her carefully constructed burrow of linen, dropping onto the floor unceremoniously, before propping herself up and slamming her shades over her eyes. If only to cover the tired bags, at least.
"Why'd you need me? You say I have a really bad taste in music...and I'd make you look bad."
"Well, maybe I'm taking you with me to make myself look better by comparison?"
"It's too early for long words, so I'll just pretend you said something nice about me."
"That's probably the best course of action, Vinyl. Now get ready, we're going to meet some high society. I need you to at least attempt to look presentable."
Vinyl wandered off into the bathroom, the pattering of the shower emanating from within after a moment. Curiously, she'd left the door open. Perhaps Octavia should go close it, just to be safe? It was best to preserve her privacy, after all. She trotted carefully, up to the door, which lay slightly ajar. Steam wafted through the gap, as Octavia reached out a hoof to-.
The door suddenly swung even wider open, and Octavia fell to the floor in its absence of support. She spotted a contemptible Vinyl staring down at her with the lightest grin she imagined a pony face could muster.
"Now, now, Octavia. Flattered as I am, I don't want you spying on me in the shower, thanks."
Octavia sputtered, coughing out dust she imagined had lain on the uncleaned carpet for weeks. In doing so, she rapidly eradicated a large colony of almost sentient dust mites, that were in the process of penning up their request to join the United Equestrian Nations. Sadly, Ponykind lost this chance for a new ally to inevitably fights wars with and exploit for labour, so perhaps it was for the better that this fledgling civilisation met its end in Octavia's trachea, rather than having to endure that whole fiasco.
Octavia herself recovered from her unwitting genocidal wheezing, and rose to her hooves to avoid the smog of dust that had plumed from the carpet upon her impact. "Spying?! I was just going to close the door, to save your privacy."
"Aren't you a saint, Octy. Now please, I know we're always naked anyway, but it's still kinda weird. Go fix yourself something to eat, you little peeping tom you."
Octavia's indignant defence was cut short by the door closing in front of her, and she felt her cheeks heat up in disapproval at her well-intended actions. Evidently, the best course of action would be to stuff her cheeks full of something tasty to cool them down, as Vinyl had suggested. She opened the fridge, finding the colonial province of the dust mite kingdom ruling over a slab of potentially century-old cheese. Any vegetables inside had long-since devolved back into primordial ooze, and Octavia stopped to consider whether Vinyl actually ate any of this, or simply had the digestive system of a cow.
The fridge revealing itself to be a pony-sized petri dish, she close it and roamed onwards. She clicked the cupboards open to search for anything tinned, and therefore potentially edible. Instead she found one cupboard completely filled with cereal. Cheerileeos, Zeco Pops, and ScootaBix all in attendance; cereals Octavia hadn't eaten since she was a filly, and had no intentions of a culinary trot down memory lane at this point.
Another cupboard yielded only a shelf full of brightly coloured boxes, the vibrant yellow of Dandelion Pop-Tarts beckoned her. Vinyl had recommended these to her at one point, yes, but her taste was hardly cutting edge. Still, it appeared to be all she kept that wasn't cereal and milk, and on a few, rare occasions, her tastes had turned out to be surprisingly finessed.
Octavia flipped the box over, eyes coursing over the instructions before she realised she was looking at the most foal-proof piece of food she'd ever eat. A pair of tarts were placed into the toaster, and she waited the intended time for the magical energies to beam through the little treats. After a fairly boring moment, the tarts were ejected forcefully from the toaster; soaring a hoof into the air before Octavia snatched them onto her plate. The packet recommended leaving them to stand for a little moment, so she gave it a hoofful of seconds before the sickly-sweet aromas got the better of her. She clamped her teeth around one such delectable slice, the outer coating feeling reassuringly cool. It was foals' food after all, they would have to keep it cool for them.
Her teeth scissored through the tart, dandelion jam spewing onto her taste buds. One moment of hyper-sweet bliss, then a fiery stab of pain through her tongue. They were hot...very hot.
Vinyl heard the scream from the shower, even through her usual habit of humming Deadhor5 as loud as she could so ponies listening would know she was in the shower, and therefore would like to not be spied on. She leapt out of the cleansing downpour, mane and tail sodden as she crashed through the door and into her living room. She spotted Octavia sitting on the couch, gingerly touching a hoof to her tongue.
"Bese bop tards are painfuw!" Octavia's tongue was red and inflamed, much like Vinyl's cheeks as they failed to repress her laughter. She plummeted to the floor, a small shockwave of dust intermingling with her wet coat and usurping the entire purpose of showering in the first place. She wiped a tear, or a drop of water, from her eye, still finding humour as Octavia glared at her, tongue hanging out of her mouth like a happy puppy.
"Oh, it's great to have you around, Octy. Let's get you some ice, and I'll sure to blow on your pop-tarts for you too, to stop any more nasty burns."
"Brow it oup your rumb, Viryl!"