"I suppose I could hardly have expected an emotionally searching evaluation of last night, then?"
"Aww, come on. When was I ever big with emotions and stuff?"
Octavia shifted slightly, causing her stomach to quake. It was far later than her usual breakfast time, maybe she should break away from Vinyl for a moment to gather up some food.
"Are you hungry, Vinyl?"
"Sorta, got any Cheerileeos?"
"I have pancakes. Will pancakes do?"
"Only if they're the big, flat pancakes. Not those little, fat dumpy ones."
Octavia groaned. "Yes, yes, I will make you some crepes. You'll just need to get off me first."
"As you wish."
Octavia braced herself against the sofa's back, pushing Vinyl onto the floor. She casually stepped over her, before going into the kitchen to prepare their pancakes. Vinyl took a minute or two to realise what had happened, before she regathered her tangled pile of limbs and got back onto her hooves. She trotted over to the kitchen, peeking her head through the doorway.
"That was plain rude, Octy! I never got into this relationship to be pushed around."
"Are you going to help me make the pancake batter, then?"
"Nope. I'll be in the sitting room waiting on my apology pancakes."
Octavia chuckled, pouring the first lump of batter into the pan, before adding a healthy dose of syrup to the mix. "Of course, I'll bring them through."
"Wow Octy, cooking for me and sleeping with me? You're the perfect wife!"
The saucepan did not hit Vinyl, however, as she had already ducked behind the doorway before starting her sentence. She reappeared, grinning, in time to take an egg-whisk to the snout. She covered her injured face with a hoof, vainly trying to rub away the pain.
"Hey, it's not sexist if I'm a mare too!"
"Still, we're not getting married. At least, not so I can be your slave. I'm the one in charge here, anyway."
"And why's that?"
"Because, Vinyl dearest, I'm the one closest to the knife block."
Vinyl retreated back into the sitting room to await her pancake delivery. Her stomach growled at her to just grab something else, and as quickly as possible. She felt that she would have to wait to get to know Octavia a little bit more thoroughly before she could undertake the liberty of raiding her fridge. Especially when she was in the process of cooking her up some pancakes.
At least Octavia had a fairly decent sound system setup. Vinyl drooled over the Ponineer record spinner, gently stroking the Ponysonic speakers with a tentative hoof. She used these for classical music? They must have obliterated her precious little mane whenever she turned them on!
Naturally, Vinyl found herself flipping one of Octavia's less high-brow records onto the deck, and excitedly slamming the power button with expectant glee. The record spun, the display glittered with the faint aura of magic as it counted the tracks, but barely a whisper thrummed from the speakers.
Vinyl put a tentative ear to the bass drivers with extreme wariness. Not even the slightest purr emanated, though the tweeters were also fairly silent. It is worth noting that after several years of nightclubbing and and heavy dubstep, Vinyl's ears were far less capable than a filly of her age from the last generation. Still, fillies of the last generation spent all their time sewing and feeding bunnies. Vinyl was more than willing to sacrifice her top-end hearing for some throbbing bass.
Then again, she wouldn't put it past Octavia to take up knitting. Probably socks, worryingly. She spun up the volume knob, tapped the radio tuner on, and searched through the fizzle of static and white noise for something worth listening too.
Coherent noise began to form as she spun it up, forming into a radio show as she tweaked the tuning.
"-Oood morning, Equestria! The sun is up and so are you! You're listening to K-COLT and it's time for THE VI-."
Vinyl violently spun the tuning knob into a higher frequency. She didn't much like a radio show about talking. What pony'd listen to that? Real music had to be in the higher frequencies. Once more static became sound, and noise fizzled away into light play of some old-school jazz. Not bad, better than most of the stuff she'd find elsewhere. Vinyl delicately turned up the bass while dumbing down the treble. Much better.
The music faded away, replaced by an enthusiastically vocal radio presenter.
"Thanks for listening, fih-lees, this is Three-Colt, ah-whooo, and you're listeni-."
The sound disappeared as Vinyl slammed the radio tuner off. It was a dying format these days anyways, what with horn music downloads taking off so well. She grabbed the first record she could find, dropped it on the deck and spun the vinyl. Maxed out the bass, before turning the treble to a bare minimum. Marching away, she planted herself on the couch.
The music began, thrumming powerful bass with only the barest hint of actual instruments. Just like Celestia intended, Vinyl thought. She was surprised at how good Mozcart sounded with maximum bass, maybe she'd have to grab a couple of his albums when she headed home.
It was then that she noticed Octavia trot in the door, two plates of pancakes balanced delicately on her hooves. She acquired the source of the earthquake-like blast waves. Her own sound system. Panicking, she dropped the plates onto the coffee table before dashing over to the Ponineer record player. She scanned the knobs, every setting out of place; completely wrong! It had taken her months of careful refinement to acquire the optimum listening conditions for Beethoofen's work, emphasising the string instruments at the top end while deferring to the double bass and cellos near the bottom.
All of that picked up and cast out the window by the white unicorn bulldozing her way through the pile of pancakes levitating before her. Vinyl raised another forkful of syrupy, doughy goodness to her lips before she noticed Octavia glaring at her from across the room. She carefully ate the pancake fragment, before delicately placing the plate on the table. Just in case she needed to run.
Octavia's left eye twitched slightly as she subconsciously tried to fix the system with a stray hoof. Her voice came in a passive-aggressive growl that would have put Vinyl's hair on end if the gel wasn't already doing the job for her.
"What, did you do, to my record player?!"