The sign in front of the ticket office informed you that the next train wouldn’t arrive for another hour and a half. There’s nothing to be done now, you could choose to brood or be productive. The sun is almost touching the horizon and you decide to thumb through the orientation packet in the light you had left. It had some neat pictures, but it was mostly generic garbage about helping other ponies and furthering your education. Nothing you hadn’t already covered in your hours of conversation. You stuff it back in your pack; back to brooding.