“Fine.” Her gaze hardened. “But if he puts his hooves in the soup, he’s out of here. And I don’t want anypony getting in the way of my chefs. It’s hard enough making meals to feed everypony in the hospital, especially with all the weird dietary restrictions the doctor adds. For Luna’s sake, my pantry chef’s got to make a special salad without any clover or timothy. How’s she supposed to make that appealing? ” She shoved a spatula into the pan. “Don’t let him mess up the spice rack, either. Or touch anything hot.” She expertly flipped the crepe onto a waiting plate and poured some more batter into the pan. “Or anything at all.” She dumped the pan out into a warmer tray and set it back on the stove. “In fact, let me show him around. Hey, Spring, you’re on the stove for now. Fifteen more crepes; don’t burn them. And go light on the preserves; we can’t get any more for a week—Winter’s sold out her entire stock.”