“So who’s this Gabby Gums?” Pinkie asked.
“We can narrow it down,” Sombra replied, so she sat to listen. “Journalism is central to this case. We should take a cue from reporters and ask what whey would.”
“What, where, you thinking?”
He nodded. “Who, when, why, and how as well.” Then his stomach growled; she passed him a cupcake. “I used to be able to resist those.”
“What, were you thin, King?”
“Yes. Anyway, look at the scuffs on the paper. An old press, no doubt.”
“What, wear, you thinking?”
“And the colors are uneven. Smacks of inexperience.”
“What, were youth inking?”
“Precisely!” he shouted with a pound of his hoof, which squashed his cupcake.
“How could you conceive of doing that?”
He stared at her a moment. “For some reason, I thought you’d say, ‘What were you thinking?’”
She only shrugged. “For some reason, I thought you’d say, ‘Crystals!’”