What starts off as a blank expression slowly morphs to one of disdain and annoyance as you finish your sentance, ”Fine! Have fun with your boring fire or whatever, I’ll just have a snowball fight with myself!” The cyan mare storms off, much to your amusement. She hastily tosses on a red tasseled scarf and opens the front door. A rush of cold air fills the room buffeting the fireplace and causing you to shrink further into the arm of the couch. She slams the door behind her. 