The cyan mare across the table was fluffing her wings, a precursor to the flight portion of her fight or flight response. Unbeknownst to you, however, Dash wasn’t about to flee. She had a response ready to go. She knew where the trap was, and under no circumstances was she going to weather the suspicions of being a negligent mate or admit to any knowledge of its true origins. She may have fumbled the ball so far, but that all ended now, because she was a clever pony.