“You okay?” she asked. The pretty purple petrified purple pony princess didn’t answer. “Yeah, I’m not okay either,” she said with a bored expression, a hot cup of coffee floating beside her. Twilight would’ve thought to ask how long it took her to find her coffee maker but then Twilight wasn’t sure how long she had been sitting there getting absolutely traumatised. “I mean, here I am watching the pony who saved me from a life of slavery, by rather unorthodox methods it must be stated, killing himself right before my eyes. I mean, you know?” No answer. “I’ve seen worse things and I’ve seen stranger things, but sometimes…”She sighed. “Somethings just hit you hard anyway.” She took a sip before casually asking, “You want a cup?” Twilight just slowly shook her head. Crimson could’ve sworn she heard her neck creaking like a rusty iron door that hadn’t seen oil in a thousand years. “Yeah, I wouldn’t either,” Crimson said, taking a sip. “You have terrible taste in coffee.”