Griffons were lightweights, that's what the groundbounds always said. It was a joke – a bad one. Light bones, light bodies, no fat. Lightweights. Obviously they couldn't handle their liquor. In Gilda's case it was definitely false, given she had once drunk an entire bar's worth of earth ponies under the table in a dumb competition that she couldn't even remember the prize for now. Oh she'd regretted that in the morning, but that was part of the fun.
	
	At least, it was false in her case right up to the point anything remotely narcotic was involved...
	
	Right now she could feel warmth crawling up her spine, tingling numbness spreading along the lines of her nerves like... like foaming rivers or—dammit she'd never been good at metaphors. That was the dweeb's job.
	
	But description or not, she could feel the muscles in her body starting to relax as the pills she had popped an hour earlier finally kicked in. And given she was several thousand feet up in the air, in a sky so clear that she could see all the way to infinity, that was definitely not a great thing.
	
	All the way to infinity...
	
	Gilda snorted – a very pony snort, she realised – and closed her eyes for a moment. 'Less than ten percent chance of drowsiness' her cute fuzzy ass. She was almost a zombie already. Perhaps if she ignored it... perhaps it would go away like the rest of the world.
	
	"Gilda, hey!"
	
	Gilda's whole body shook at the shock of waking. She stretched open her eyes and looked to her left and right, checking to be sure her wings were still working and that she wasn't plummeting to the ground, and then turned toward the voice.
	
	An earth pony peered at her over the side of an air taxi, hauled aloft by a pair of stoic and dull-faced pegasi. He was smiling at her. "Whadda you want, dweeb?"
	
	"Nothing, you featherbrain," the pony shot back. He grinned. "You look a bit peaky."
	
	"Just light headed." 
	
	Gilda flexed her wings to drift closer to the taxi. Normally she might have tried a loop around it or something else, but her body had slowed too much. Besides, there wasn't any need for it with him.
	
	"You sure you should be flying though? I mean you just took your first dose a little while ago."
	
	"Red, I told you then and I'm telling you now, I'm fine. It's fine." She twitched again, sending herself above and behind the taxi. Red's head turned to follow. He was still smiling but there was just a hint of something else in his eyes now.
	
	"The doctor—"
	
	"Fuck the doctors! I'm fine!"
	
	Red's mouth turned to a straight line. Oops. "Well maybe you want to come and sit by me for a while?"
	
	Gilda rolled her eyes and was about to answer the negative when her wings decided to give out. She would have liked to think it was to her credit that she didn't screech in terror as she dropped like a rock from the sky, but the in truth it was because she could only muster a horrified whimper. At least nobody could hear [i]that[/i].
	
	Barely had she begun to fall when the back of the taxi flashed by her. Gilda's claws shot forward, digging into the taxi's floor with a crash and the the screech of talons on polished wood. The sudden stop swung Gilda's body beneath the taxi; she flailed her useless wings, and for the briefest moment her clawed feet scrabbled at the taxi's underside until they found purchase on a crossbeam or axle or some other thing that probably served a mundane purpose, but was surely placed there by the gods to save Gilda's life that day. Surely.
	
	Grunting and breathless, Gilda thrust a claw forward on the deck and she dragged herself as far as she was able. When she looked up, Red was staring at her, blank-faced. 
	
	"Are you gonna help me or what?"
	
	"What?" Red blinked and then shook. "Oh! Right, right."
	
	Red shuffled toward her, holding out a foreleg that Gilda grasped with as much strength as she was able. One of her talons caught on the nook of Red's hock and he winced, but without the usual caterwauling you might expect from a pony... of course, he was an earther. They were way tougher than the pegasi she'd spent most of her life with. Most of them at least.
	
	Together they managed to hauled Gilda onto the taxi's deck, where she collapsed in a panting heap. Red lowered himself at her side and shook his head.
	
	Gilda grunted as she streched out her aching arms. "I swear if the next words out of your mouth are—"
	
	"I told you so," Red concluded. He grinned and poked his snout at the side of Gilda's neck, just behind her cheek. "Actually the doctor told you so. No operating heavy machinery, no flying."
	
	"And no sex," Gilda muttered.
	
	"Well," Red replied, "you are pregnant. Who knows what it would do to the foal?"
	
	"Cub."
	
	"Gilda, it's a hippogriff."
	
	Gilda turned to glare at Red. "[i]She.[/i]"
	
	"Fine, [i]she's[/i] a hippogriff," Red said, rolling his eyes. He turned his attention to the wound on his hock, snuffling at it and even licking it, at which point Gilda had to look away lest she do something perverse. "That means she's a foal."
	
	"Then she'll be a dweeb like her dad," replied Gilda, with as much bitterness as she could put into the retort. It wasn't very much. With a resigned sigh, Gilda closed her eyes and stretched out her wings to catch the breeze over the top of their taxi. She could feel Red's warmth at her side. It was nice. "Why didn't you stop me flying?"
	
	"A poor little pony against a big, strong griffon like you? I'd be mincemeat if I trie, and this little one would be fatherless." 
	
	He poked Gilda's belly; she giggled and then glared at him for making her do it, and he just laughed and leaned against her side like he always did when she was mad. Her wing dropped over him by reflex now, and she glared at him again for knowing how to get under her feathers so easily, but that was Red Sherbet through and through. Any other pony would have been sent packing the minute he talked to her...
	
	"I love you," he said.
	
	Gilda rolled her eyes. "Dweeb."
	
	"I guess it's a step up from dork," Red sighed. "I hope you won't call me that in front of your parents, though. It'd set a bad impression."
	
	"Don't worry," Gilda replied. She craned her neck over the front of the taxi and looked toward the faint outline of her family's home aerie, just now visible on the horizon. "I won't have to."
	
	[center]*  *  *[/center]
	
	"When you said we were going to your home aerie I thought we'd be, y'know..." Red pointed a hoof up at the towering hulk of red stone hanging over them. Gilda looked up at it, then quickly dismissed it with a flip of her wing.
	
	"Only old farts, aristos and crazy birds live in aeries like that any more," Gilda said, and nodded as if that explained everything.
	
	"Oh." Red looked around at the bustling street on which they stood. "I was hoping I could get a look at the carvings. An entire city cut into the side of a mountain sounds really cool."
	
	"That's 'cause you're a dweeb," Gilda shot back. 
	
	She looked up at the old city even so, searching for a sign of any other griffons up there. The bird in her wanted to be up there, standing on the edge of a sheer drop, at the end of a tunnel that forced you to leap before you could even spread your wings. It seemed so [i]right[/i].
	
	Her aunt had lived in an aerie, an real one, but small and out of the way. She wasn't rich and she wasn't old – not particularly – but she'd made up for that by being the lunatic who hadn't learned to fly until she was nearly thirty. The impression hadn't been lessened when she'd moved to Trotiers, where she'd made a career out of flinging paint at things until something a bit like a real picture appeared.
	
	Maybe all the griffons in her family were crazy, Gilda thought. It'd explain why she was taking a pony to met her parents. Or why she was still with him after a year. Or even why she'd let him get her knocked up in the first place...
	
	"Perhaps I could go and find some sort of tour," Red said as they set off down the street.
	
	That smile was back, the one that came out when his mind was racing ahead with plans that inevitably involved dragging Gilda out to experience whatever dumb, boring piece of 'culture' he'd fixated on that week. The entire previous month had been nothing but a succession of visits to concert halls all over Canterlot as he chased after the performances of some snooty grey broad performing a duet with a pegasus. Some rediscovery of ancient pegasus musical techniques, he'd said, though Gilda reckoned it was more likely he was sweet on the pegasus.
	
	She'd had weird eyes, but even Gilda had to admit the way she could use her wings had been impressive. Eight out of ten, probably would go lesbian for if sufficiently drunk.
	
	"I ain't goin' on no tour, Red," she said, once they had reached an intersection. Red turned to her with one of his pathetic pony pouts and tried to look adorable, and gods help her it actually worked. "Hey, hey don't pull that on me again, you jerk! That's how I ended up like this."
	
	"Speaking of which, you should probably take your next dose," said Red, glancing along the street. He nodded toward a nearby coffee shop. "Come on, I'll buy you something to help it go down."
	
	"Yeah, you said that as well," she groused.
	
	They crossed the street together, though she resisted the temptation to put her wing across his back until they were almost at the coffee shop's wide double door.
	
	It was a simple place, about as griffon as a building could get without being carved from a rock and lined with skins. A few trophies lined what were otherwise bare walls and a couple of potted plants sat just inside the door, next to a trough of grass that Red eyed with confused curiosity until Gilda explained it was for the digestion. He nodded, but didn't seem entirely convinced.
	
	"You'd think you'd never owned a cat," Gilda muttered as they moved toward a booth.
	
	"I didn't. Cats are evil."
	
	"Never heard you complaining," Gilda shot back. She whipped her tail at Red's behind, drawing a small, shocked squeak from him.
	
	He shuffled into the booth, onto a couch that was just a little too big for him, and dropped his bags on the table."You're only proving my point."
	
	Gilda paused in sliding into the booth to glare at Red again. He was giving her those eyes. She huffed and fell against the bench seat, then put her head in her claws. "Make mine black and deadly. Anything that'll stop these damn pills sending me to sleep again."
	
	"Sure," Red said, without moving. After a moment he reached across the little table between them and rouched Gilda's elbow. "It'll be—"
	
	"It'll be black and deadly and in my claws in five minutes or you and me are sleepin' in different beds tonight."
	
	"The doctor warned me about mood swings as well," Red murmured. He pulled a bottle from his bags and set it in front of Gilda. "I'll be back in a moment. Try not to murder anyone."
	
	"They ain't mood swings," she growled. But only after he was out of earshot—
	
	"I heard that!"
	
	—almost out of earshot. Gilda clenched her beak and picked up the little glass pill bottle. It rattled, but just barely, as it was still nearly full. How long she'd have to take these things for... she upended it and spilled a pair of little round, yellow chalky balls onto the table, then stared at them for a good long while.
	
	The sand-coated floor swished under the approaching steps of another. Gilda held out a claw in the general direction of the sound. "That better be blacker than sin, you dwe—"
	
	She looked up. It wasn't Red. It wasn't a pony either. An old, silver-feathered griffon stared at her over tiny steel-rimmed glasses that were just barely perched on the crown of a narrow and very familiar beak.
	
	"Hello Gilda!"
	
	"Mom? What—what are you doing here?"
	
	"Drinking coffee, like I do every week," the old hen said as she slid into the booth opposite Gilda. She pushed Red's bags aside and dropped a huge, chipped mug on the table, spilling a little puddle of creamy coffee that she either didn't notice or didn't care about. "Did I not tell you in my letters? Must have slipped my mind I suppose. I was going to bring you and your pegasus friend down here for a treat once you were settled in, but I see you've found it by yourself already!"
	
	"Yeah, I—I mean—what?"
	
	"Of course no daughter of mine would be able to resist the lures of a place like this! Why it's simply wonderful! Best coffee in town I always said. I was sure I mentioned it to you in my letters..." 
	
	And that was Gilda's mother to a tee. No detail was too large and too obvious for Bernice Frueh to overlook. Details were for other people.
	
	Bernice took a gulp of her coffee and sighed. "Never mind though, where [i]is[/i] that little pegasus friend of yours? I remember meeting her when you went to that Equestrian flight school. Such a bundle of energy!"
	
	"You mean Rainbow Dash?"
	
	Bernice nodded. "Of course, dear. I admit I was a little surprised when you told us you were dating a pony, but I can hardly blame you in her case. She's quite the looker."
	
	"Mom..." Gilda pinched the bridge of her beak and closed her eyes. "I'm not dating Rainbow Dash. I don't even know why you'd think that, you know I'm not into hens! Or mares!"
	
	"Oh." Bernice sipped at her coffee, this time more carefully than before. "Well I just assumed, when you said you were dating a [i]pony[/i]..."
	
	"I told you his name," Gilda shot back. Bernice tipped her head to one side and raised an eyebrow. How could she be so obtuse? Was she doing it on purpose? Gilda pressed her claws to her temples. "Red Sherbet. He's called Red Sherbet."
	
	"Huh. Are you sure he's not a she? They all look very alike, these ponies."
	
	"Pretty sure!"
	
	"But are you [i]sure?[/i]"
	
	"Mom—" Gilda pushed her claws down on the table. She could feel her wings flaring and had to force them back to her sides as well. Threat displays and coffee shops didn't mix the best of times. "Mom, I think I would have noticed something like that!"
	
	"I don't know, Gilda, I've heard stories—"
	
	"Ponies don't work that way! They can't make cubs or foals or whatever appear out of thin air just by winking at each other. He's male, I've been pretty close to him. We had sex! Good sex!" Gilda paused to run a claw through her crest. It was getting unruly again. Maybe she should have it plucked. "I can't believe I'm even having this conversation."
	
	"I can," said Red as he wandered toward the table. Two steaming cups sat on a tray carefully balanced across his back. He slowed as he reached the pair and smiled at Gilda, before turning to slide the tray onto the table... [i]somehow[/i]. She'd never really figured out how they did it even after so long. They were good with their mouths... Gilda stomped on that thought before it could progress too far.
	
	Red smiled again at Gilda before turning to Bernice and giving a very formal bow. "You must be Ms Frueh. I'm very pleased to meet you."
	
	Bernice sipped her coffee slowly and tipped her head again to one side, and then the other. "He's certainly very red," she murmured, and then leaned forward to peer at him. "To be frank, young man, you aren't what I was expecting at all."
	
	"I know I can't be a griffon—"
	
	"No wings! I was so sure you'd be dating a pegasus, Gilda. If you have to date a pony they might as well be able to fly."
	
	Gilda and Red shared a sideways glance and then a mutual roll of their eyes, which would have set them laughing at any other time.
	
	"No, this really isn't what I expected at all," Bernice said. Her voice sounded a little faint, as if she'd just learned the world was upside down and back to front. "It's probably your father's fault. his side of the family have always been the strange ones." She paused for a moment, then held up a talon. "Like your Aunty Roslindis! Didn't fly until she was nearly thirty and then shacked up with a hippogriff! At least they can fly, unlike..."
	
	Bernice waved her claw uncertainly in Red's direction. To his credit took it better than Gilda would have had the positions been reversed.
	
	"You've got it all wrong, mom. He's easier to catch," Gilda said, with a grin. She ruffled Red's mane. "Besides, pegasi are useless in the sack."
	
	"Natural sprinters," Red put in. 
	
	"I wouldn't know about that," Bernice sniffed.
	
	While Bernice was distracted by that thought, Red shuffled onto the seat beside Gilda and pulled his drink close. Gilda mirrored the act, making sure to toss back her pills before she took a gulp of her coffee. It was like swallowing bitter ashes mixed with burning pitch.
	
	She sighed. A perfect blend.
	
	With her caffeine craving satisfied for the moment, Gilda let her wing wrap around Red's shoulders and pulled him close to her side. So what if her mother couldn't wrap her dumb little brain around the idea? Let her be confused. It was normal for her.
	
	"I suppose I should be grateful that's all the surprises I'll have today," said Bernice quietly. She stared into her drink. In the background a bell rang as someone pushed through the coffee shop's doors. "Unless you're going to tell me you're pregnant."
	
	At Gilda's side, Red stiffened noticeable and coughed into his hoof, and Gilda couldn't help but put a claw to her face. "Yeah, about that..."
	
	With a long, loud sigh, Bernice sagged against the back of her seat.
	
	"That explains the pills," she muttered, setting her coffee down. "I'm going to be grandmother to a hippogriff cub.
	
	"Foal," said Gilda and Red together. The glanced at one another and tried not to laugh, while Bernice could only stare at the two of them with a look that verged on existential horror.
	
	"Why can't anyone in this family be normal?"
	
	"Who cares about normal," said another voice. Gilda turned to see her father striding toward the table, balanced precariously on his hind legs while he carried a muffin in one claw and a cup of what was probably some weird herbal tea in the other. He flopped down at Bernice's side and grinned at Gilda. "Hey kiddo, didn't think I'd see you around here again!"
	
	He paused to look at Red and frowned.
	
	"Who's the dweeb?"
	
	Gilda put her head back in her claws and let out a quiet moan. It was going to be a long week.