The white mare with the curled mane and ridiculous eyeshadow was there, sitting daintily on the couch nearest to Twilight. Wait, eyeshadow was what you called it when women painted their eyelids, right? Whatever. Makeup on fur was an inherently stupid concept, and Handy wondered why ponies put up with it. There was an orange pony with a stetson, who was closest to him and seemed to be sending the most disapproving glare out of all of them. Given that the blue pegasus he had had arrested was there as well, that was saying something.