"Hiya, Mr. Fancy Pants," she said, letting shades of her childhood accent bleed into her normal diction. Her inflection was similar to that of her parent's, but years of repression had molded Rarity's accent into something more Manehattan-streetwalker than middle-class nopony from Whinnyapolis. "You and your friends are lookin' awful lonely down there. Why doncha climb up and join me for a liddle roll around in the ring. I'll be real gentle with ya, I promise."