Octavia slumped down beside the sink cupboard, neatly trying to hide her body from view while also trying to dredge some memories from the murky depths of her mind. Sadly one of the many benefits toted by the Pan-Equestrian Gargle Blaster is that it will buck you up in every way possible, the bottle itself containing disclaimers against causing anything from liver damage to type-2 diabetes.
Vinyl watched from the living room, as the silence from the kitchen signalled the fact that Octavia was in fact not making tea, and may or may not be having a mental breakdown and stuffing her head in the oven. While Vinyl was partially worried, she didn't want to intrude in on her, mainly because her hopes might have been shattered, and she would've just found Octavia moping around next to the mop pail. Instead she tried to reach out her benevolent ideals using her voice.
"Hey, Octy. How's the uhh...tea coming along?"
There was a sharp clattering, a fervent clopping of hooves on tiled flooring, then the rattling of pots and pans. "It'll be ready in a moment!"
"Cool! Why are you using pots and pans...when you're making tea."
Octavia pulled her head out of the cupboard, halting in her frenzied effort to sound as busy as she wanted to look. "Uhhh...I like the traditional method, on the hob! It makes the tea that much sweeter, don't you...think?"
She was confronted by Vinyl's quite frankly irritating grin that was growing like a tumour on her mind. She let go of the wok and saucepan in each of her forehooves, and stowed them back into the cupboard.
"I'm no chef...but I don't think you'll get far with those. I'm guessing, that maybe you're finding this whole situation a little awkward?"
"Indeed, what irks me most is that you don't seem very fazed at all."
Vinyl disappeared back through the doorway in a light giggling fit the Gargle Blasters amplified into a migraine. She recovered quite sharply after a second or two, and returned to the kitchen.
"Oh, it's not the first time I've woken up with a hangover, a filly, and no idea what the hay happened." She locked eyes with Octavia's partially worried, partially scathing stare. "Hey, it was Uni! What pony didn't have one of those 'oh Celestia no' mornings?"
"I, for one, didn't. I spent my time at Uni studying."
"Well yeh, that's the bit in between all the fun stuff! Besides, even drunk, I think I'd pass on you." She gave a sly wink, and watched as Octavia's mind ripped her in two directions.
"I'll have you know that I am a very...attractive mare...but to colts! Not to other mares, no, not at all!"
"I don't judge, Octy. I don't judge. You can be whatever you want to be, so long as it's prudey; cos that's what's fun about you."
"Ughh, the last thing I want in this life is an 'it's cool to fillyfool' speech from you, Vinyl. Excuse me, I think I hear my mail calling." Octavia stomped past Vinyl, eliciting another pained giggle at her indignant demeanour.
She found the offending letters, bills, coupons, and...a magazine? Tearing it open in a rare moment of fillyish glee, she glanced at the cover, then turned a remarkably similar shade of green to the dreaded Gargle Blasters.
"Hey Octy, what's u-ohhhh...is that us?"
"For the love of Celestia, I hope not."
"Well, at least we're famous...I guess, 'The Cellist and the Charlatan.' I gotta be the Cellist, right?" She shot a grin at Octavia, who groaned under her breath.
"I highly doubt it, Ms Charlatan. The reason I am reluctant to open it...is that." She jabbed at hoof at the familiar image of a certain chocolate-coloured ice cream pony, gleefully rendered above the sharp artist's impression of herself and Vinyl. Octavia had to hoof it to the mare, writing, printing, and posting it to her home over night must have required intense dedication. Suddenly she had the urge to install more locks on her door.
"Oh wow, it's her. The mare from the bar!"
"Wow. Really? I simply couldn't tell, Vinyl."
Vinyl pouted her lip, mocking an injury to her chest by holding a hoof to her left side. "Oh Octy, no need to get your halter in a twist. Come on, open it up, I wanna see what she wrote!"
Octavia suddenly got the overwhelming urge to throw the magazine as high into the sky as possible, in the hope it might perch itself on the moon. Or even better, the sun. "I...don't think that's a good idea."
"Awww, just one look. It can't be that bad."
"No!" Octavia gripped the paper tightly in her teeth, snarling slightly like a small terrier. "I don't want you to read it, you're not going to!"
"You're forgetting something, Octavia."
"Really, what would that be?"
"This." Vinyl wrapped her magic around the magazine, pulling it away from Octavia while holding out a hoof to stop her getting it back. She ripped off the cellophane coating, and giggled as a note fell out of the pages. "Ohh, 'To my two fateful little fillies, have fun, and especially important, have fun together. Here's two reservations to a restaurant, to get you to little lovepegasi started.'"
"She really is perverse!"
"Yeh." Vinyl cocked her head, shaking the reservation out of the magazine. "But hey, free food! Now, page seven of this little story and..."
"You're reading it?"
"Are you going to stop now?"
"No...not yet. Although for the record, I wouldn't ever do that with a tuba. That'd be painful!"
"Can you please stop, I'm not comfortable standing here while you read that!" Octavia jumped up at the magazine, trying to snatch it with hoof and tooth. "Why are you even reading that smut?"
"A, it's about me. And B, I'm reading it for the plot."
"Please, I am begging you. Just stop, please."
Vinyl peeked her crimson eyes over the magazine's cover. "Pretty please?"
"Ughhh, 'with a cherry on top.'"
"Because you batted your eyelids, and asked so nicely Octavia. Though, you should probably keep this, might be a weirdly accurate placeholder for last night." Vinyl set the magazine on a nearby table, before turning to Octavia with her ditsy, little grin. "Although her descriptions of your socks are pretty close to the real thing."
"Where, let me see!" Octavia snatched up the magazine, scanning the page as her face became paler and paler. "My...that is a painful thing to do with a tuba..."