I also have a pile of gold coins. Despite me saying ‘no’, I got paid anyway. Bits were a dumb concept, but whatever. I even told my boss that seeing a customer smile was enough, because I got to nibble at a pony’s happiness, or their anger, whenever I served a cup of coffee, or a muffin, whatever. It doesn’t matter; it all tastes bad no matter what it is. Especially these… apples. Those things were grown in a nearby farm, were red, sometimes yellow or green, and tasted like if another changeling decided to throw some heavily digested, liquid love into your mouth after it’s been in their stomach for three days.