She saunters through the quiet home, passing the kitchen. She didn't need to eat physical food, but she loved the smell of Anon's cooking. He always made the oddest things, since he didn't seem to eat Love, or whatever the Ponies ate. Cooking seemed like one of the things he enjoyed, having gotten a big, fat book full of recipes from a local bookstore; and another one shipped from somewhere far away called Griffonia. 