Terrified and on the verge of a breakdown, the engineer shakily opens the note, as Oddy instructed. He shudders when he reads the words. "She...she wants us to dance for her amusement," he tells them.

The cook shakes her hoof at the air. "Curse, you Pink Ghost! We have work to do!"

The other mare tackles her to the ground. "She didn't mean it! We'll dance! We'll dance!" She rolls off the first mare and begins dancing frantically. "S-see? We're dancing! Please don't shoot us with the cannon!"

===

Quoth is becoming increasingly distracted by the noises from upfront, but he carries the conversation a little farther. "We do other work too, just not as Regulators," he says, "And we can charge very well for it too." He scratches his head and looks mournfully at the feather that falls out. With a sigh, he flicks it away. "Better not be balding. Anyway. Yeah, I was around. Didn't join up till later, but I was around. Working as a caravan guard back then for the traders that braved the backroads before the trains got up and running. Basically, ponies that got a reputation for killing raiders banded together to take down bigger gangs. Founder went by the name of Sniper Scope. Markspony, so they say. Could shoot the wings off a bloatsprite from across town. He and his pals killed just about everything that troubled the Frozen North. Even took on a few alicorns. Soon, it became official, or as official as it gets."

"Course, they're dead now. Where they're buried is something every Regulator knows but tells no-one else."

He squints at her, puzzling that compliment out. He decides it's alright and nods. "Right then," he says, "Right. You do that."

He turns towards the front door about the same time Oddy and Doc do. "Someone should take care of that." He begins moving towards it.