Although it was not crowded, all eyes in attendance where on them. The resturant was designed to make teleportation in and out by most ponies difficult and more importantly oblivious. Jaws hung open. Nostrils flared open in shock and forks clanked on the ground or plates.
"Welcome, Miss Tinker. Welcome, Miss Gwynfillion. It is preferred that customers wait to be seated. I will alert the owner of your obvious emergency." The green restaurant expediter says after strutting up to the frazzled mares and foals.