So as it turned out, Jacques wasn’t as much of an asshole as Handy had thought. Between the tidal wave of questions and laughter and kudos that descended upon Jacques, the generous gifts of beer in exchange for stories, and the surprisingly welcoming attitude of the ponies, it seemed there was a method to Jacques’ particular madness. Handy… Handy wasn’t sure what he was expecting from Enclave ponies, but it certainly wasn’t this. Or maybe it was because every single one of them was a dyed-in-the-wool mercenary bastard, and he just happened to be a friend of a friend. He wasn’t sure.