"...And revenge," Handy admitted as he met Jacques' challenging eye. The pony simply stood there impassively. His cheerful demeanour had disappeared for the conversation as he followed this line of inquiry. Handy was not sure why. It was not as if he had any reason to care. He looked between the human and Thorax for a few moments, his tail swishing once behind him, brushing the tips of the grass. Then, very slowly, the same cocky, lazy smile breached the stone visage he wore and spread across his muzzle.