Anon didn’t reply, instead, he opted to ogle his dear friend’s derriere. Even in her cloak, he could make out the curves of her delicious, thick asscheeks, and even a touch of her plump thighs as well. Oddly enough, her cowl kept shifting, her tail constantly fidgeting underneath it and jostling it about. He knew her well, and he knew that her tail wasn’t a twitching mess like that ever—twitchy tails were Pinkie’s thing after all.