Grills briefly smirked and turned around. He pulled back the shades which concealed his balcony. Large glass doors framed in smoky grey wood swung open with his dark red magic.
The view outside was wonderful. To the right was the Bridle Shores streets. Little ponies trot about in the afternoon roads and zip around in the orange sky.
To the left were trees. Wild trees with wild fruit ripe for picking. Their sweet scents watered his mouth as the light breeze kicked them up.
And straight ahead was the outdoor dance floor. The tarp laid dissembled behind a tree. He could still see a few hoodlum foals dancing there wildly.
Purple still fears for her stomach. It might churn and twist under the heat of the tea and the mix of the liquids.
Her worries ware nonsensical through as it it was used to so much jostling and hard cider. The lining was cast iron by now. "Hit me!"