“I can’t say I’m a fan of the decor.” Rarity glanced around them, at the stone corridor that looked like it had been chewed up by a machine, with a single bundle of cord bolted onto the ceiling. “I have a few friends in Motherlode—nowhere else to get one’s hooves on true silver, after all. I think I might try and stay with them, if anypony else here would prefer that to…” She coughed. “I hate tunnels.”