Spike swallowed. "Uh..." His throat closed up when he looked at the mare crying into her hooves on the streetside's bright purple bench. Its color shone with confidence in the midday light and the bench flaunted it, showing off its fanciful curves and superior craftsponyship. Just like everything else in Canterlot, it practically glowed with elegance and grace—the exact opposite of the mare breaking down atop it.