Celestia frowned, squinted and poured an infinitesimally larger portion of her magic into her efforts, immediately rewarded with a loud crack as the lid of the chest yielded. The benefit of smithing the lock to a chest herself was that nopony was likely to ever crack it by craft or by spell. The downside was that when you lost both the key and the secrets to the lock, that included yourself.
Celestia put the ruined lid down, offering a moment’s silence to the carpenter who’d made the chest. The pony-sized thing stood out among the other contents of the room; in amidst countless anonymous crates and bolts of cloth rested this one container of ornate, carved wood. She intensified the light from her horn a smidgen, and with a minor effort, cleared some space around her.
Heavy wooden crates shifted at her command, steel barrels floated obediently to form stacks, and within minutes the storeroom was as neatly organized as it had ever been. A square room with walls of polished stone, the only feature of which was a spiral staircase set in the far wall. She was just getting the very last of the clutter sorted when a familiar shape appeared in the room’s single entrance. Princess Luna nodded her greetings and stepped into the room proper, making a big show out of looking every which way and taking it in.
“I did not know the castle had a storage cellar, but here we are, at the heart of the mountain. Do you fear siege?”
Celestia chuckled, depositing the sole remaining chest in the middle of the room. “Hardly. The architects who designed the majority of the palace decided that there needed to be a vault of sorts, a place for their princess to store her dark secrets.”
Luna grinned and stepped closer, standing side by side with her sister. “All your terrible secrets, is it?”
“Yes.” Celestia smiled and shook her head slowly. “It’s a wonderful place to store all the gifts that would be rude to throw away. I could clothe a small city with all the dresses and hats in this room, and somewhere here is a case of gilded pineapples.”
Still Luna did not peer into the open chest, but Celestia could tell she wanted to. Where Celestia was happy to dance around a subject for days on end, Luna was not thus inclined. The Princess of the Night was a far more direct a creature.
“And what is it you are doing here? I visited your chambers to ask if you wanted to share tea with me.”
“I suppose somepony once told me physical labor helps one think, and I decided to try just that.” Celestia grinned. “I could count on my hooves for how many seconds I could try cleaning my chambers or some such before the maids take it to mean I am dissatisfied with their work.”
Luna did not share her smile. The smaller princess rolled her jaw and nodded absent-mindedly before she pinned her sister with a look that Celestia quite frankly could not decipher.
“Thinking, is it?”
Celestia raised a brow and leaned against Luna, forcing her sister to brace against her. “Do I disappoint you, little sister? Should I seek the highest point of the palace and stare into the sun while I brood?”
At that, Luna’s expression softened. She smiled, shook her head, and gave a short burst of laughter. “Hardly. It is good to see you like this. They are a good influence, the Elements.”
“We learn as long as we live, and we live as long as we learn,” Celestia replied, resting her head atop Luna’s for a moment before finally stepping up to the chest. Leaning past, she let her eyes roam its contents. “It is good you came.”
As gently as she could, Celestia surrounded two particular objects with her magic, slowly levitating them up and over the rim of the chest. The glass orbs were swathed in silken cloth, but if the sharp intake of breath was anything to go by, Luna still recognized them before Celestia even unwrapped them.
“I... thought I broke those. You kept them.”
Celestia hovered one of the two globes over to Luna, and her sister held it in her own magic without a word. Both of the globes were perfect spheres containing a small scale model of Equestria and its surrounding territories as they had been thousands of years ago. The orb Celestia held had a small mote of magic casting a bright yellow light over the land, the luminescence magically contained within the confines of the glass. Luna’s had a pale white moon that bathed the miniature landscape in a softer light.
“They were repaired the very same day of your banishment,” Celestia said, smiling at the vague memories that faded even now that they had been spoken. It felt liberating. “It was the first thing I could think to do to find a glassblower, but in the end I mended them myself.”
Luna took a deep breath and let it out again. A moment later, she crossed necks with Celestia, one of her forelegs squeezing her tight. “Why did you not tell me of this before?”
Celestia pursed her lips. “I suppose it did not feel right. The memories hurt a little, and after your return, this did not fit into the... routine. I no longer see the harm.” Luna’s head moved in a faint nod against her neck.
“What other secrets does your chest of wonders hold, then?” Luna asked.
“Other memorabilia from the next hundred years or so. I thought I would simply sort through them and see if there is something of use. Are you going to rest after dinner?”
Luna relented the hug and gave her glass globe one final glance before shaking her head. “What I am doing is asking what made my sister retreat to the deepest recesses of the palace, and I am still not certain I have my answer. You seemed content enough when you returned from your last outing, and again when you came home earlier in the weekend. Why all this thinking?”
Celestia bit the inside of her cheek. “Because as much as I have enjoyed the past weeks, questions arise—” She paused and rolled her eyes at the half-lidded look Luna gave her, smiling despite. “Very well. The less long winded version is that I’m concerned certain subjects occupy my mind far too much.”
Luna shrugged. “All ponies are equal, but that does not mean you should worry if your position, your job or your other activities grace some with more of your time than others. Somehow, I am getting the distinct feeling you are not talking about your faithful student.”
“I have made peace with needing to tutor and favor some, and also with the fact that I cannot personally meet and greet every citizen in our nation. I speak not of time—”
“But of thought,” Luna finished for her. “You speak of the Element of Laughter. What of her? If she is being a nuisance, you are hardly the type of pony to hold your tongue.”
Celestia barely bit back a giggle. “No, goodness no. No, not at all.” She meant to speak on, but she did not know the words. If she knew the full of it, there’d be no mystery. Celestia let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding and sat. Luna immediately moved to her side, head tilted.
“Are you well, sister? I have seen you upset, I have seen you saddened, and I have had the misfortune of seeing you angered, but never so...”
“Confused. The word is confused, because I struggle to decide what she truly is,” Celestia said. “And you are right. I have never had compunctuations about speaking up, but many of the things she does make me uncomfortable. She asks questions I cannot simply answer, and she will not take a polite gesture for a dismissal. She continually tests my limits.”
Luna’s body shook with quiet laughter. “I believe you once described me in a similar manner, though with not half the fondness.”
A smile tugged on Celestia’s lips, and she shook her head. “I did, at that. You have been the only one to ever treat me as an equal.”
For a good few moments, the silence of the room was absolute. Celestia stared at a particularly anonymous section of masonry in the wall, and Luna, for once, had no follow-up. When Celestia chanced a look, she saw her sister looking up at her with the beginnings of a smile of her own.
“In truth, I believe you have your answer,” Luna said, rising to stand and making for the stairs without so much as a backwards look.
Luna let the magic grip fade, pausing at the threshold to the room. Her first impulse was that this might be a case for the Royal Guard. Upon her return, she’d questioned her sister’s wisdom in creating a guard corps when each of the princesses wielded magic that could reshape the landscape of stars. Few things—no, nothing gave Luna cause for fear.
On the other hoof, she wasn’t quite sure how to react when one of her bedroom wardrobes started singing. Incineration seemed a little disproportionate, and curiosity was certainly a factor.
“Is this some sort of elaborate prank?” she asked, striding into her bedchambers with as much confidence as she could muster. It was hard to be intimidating in a nightcap, and neither her teacup nor the treasured snowglobe she carried made for the most menacing of instruments.
No reply. Luna squinted and closed the door behind her. The melodious humming continued unabated, and every now and then her bedside wardrobe would shift, giving off the faintest of creaks. It could be some sort of spell flux, a magical anomaly. Such things were easily fixed. It could also be a foe in disguise. Luna couldn’t hold back a grin at the thought. Perhaps Discord had broken loose? Perhaps Chrysalis was weaving fel magic, preparing for another assault on Canterlot?
An assault on Canterlot led from her wardrobe. Luna sighed and put the teacup and the globe down on her nightstand, approaching the mysterious musical furniture. It was unlikely, but a princess could dream. It seemed every time glorious battle was joined, Luna was indisposed.
Celestia sending her on a trip to Neighpon the day before Discord struck, that could have happened to anypony. It was hardly her sister’s fault that every single chariot mysteriously disintegrated when she planned to disregard Celestia’s advice and travel to the Crystal Kingdom, either. When she found herself locked in her bathroom during Chrysalis’ attack on Canterlot, though, she had to admit she wondered if it was some pastel-maned conspiracy.
Her thirst for battle somewhat slaked, Luna tore open the wardrobe with force born out of apathy, coming face to face with a pink pony who seemed entirely too content and cozy amidst the princessly dresses and effects. Pinkie Pie swayed from side to side and sang along for another few seconds before halting with a huge gasp.
“—wait and you can’t run, I’m sure this will be fun—oh wow, Princess Luna! I haven’t seen you in weeks! How’re you?”
“I am well, thank you,” Luna said, hastily levitating Pinkie out of the wardrobe, depositing her on the floor, and closing it behind her all in short order. “And you are in my bedroom. This is incredibly inappropriate.”
“Well yeah, duh,” Pinkie giggled. “I had this great idea for a waiting song, but the only thing that rhymed with ‘faucet’ was ‘closet’, so I didn’t have much choice. I guess this is more of a wardrobe or maybe a cupboard, but singers can’t be choosers!”
“Forgive me if I do not even reward that with an answer,” Luna said, sighing. “I am fairly certain you know how to tell my sister’s bedroom from mine, however. Ignoring that that would also be inappropriate.”
Pinkie nodded, getting up and looking around as if she only just now considered this. “Oh wow, you’re right. I mean, I tried waiting in her room for so long, you wouldn’t believe, but she never came. I decided to switch tactics! I guess your room is the one that’s all dark and moody and broody, huh? Oh!” she exclaimed, turning around and making a grab for the wardrobe door. “And Celestia doesn’t have nearly as many fun things in her wardrobe, like your collection of—”
Luna levitated the wardrobe up and out of reach, neatly pinning it to the ceiling with enough force to crack stone and wood while blessing her dark coat’s ability to hide burning cheeks.
“Celestia, yes! She is my sister and she’s in the cellar, ask a guard to take you, thank you very much for your visit!” Luna snapped, whipping open her bedroom door with another touch of magic. Another barely-gentle push whisked the pink mare out of her chambers, and the slam of her door reverberated through the palace until her tea went cold.
Celestia turned the object around and around, twisting and turning it to view it from every possible angle under horn-light both bright and pale, but for the life of her, she could not discover what exactly the brown lump was meant to be.
“Must be from my pottery period,” she muttered, gently depositing the shapeless blob on the floor by the other knick-knacks. If she squinted, she could pretend it was a terrible attempt at a wingless parasprite, but she knew there were a million problems with that theory, including one count of terrible anachronism.
A set of hoofsteps snapped her out of her reverie. Celestia raised a brow and stared at the staircase, wondering exactly who that could be. A set of guards to inquire about her well-being? Vanilla Cream and Gemburst with some lunch? It wouldn’t be entirely unwelcome if Luna had related to the staff that Celestia was down here, and everypony in the palace knew that when Celestia said “I do not want to be disturbed,” it did not apply to cinnamon swirls or cake.
Or it could be Pinkie Pie arriving in the company of a lone guardspony. For some reason, it struck Celestia as particularly absurd. It would be far less shocking had Pinkie been waiting for her amidst the crates of a cellar Celestia visited once per year at best, but instead, Pinkie trotted alongside a guard-stallion through the room’s single entrance. Proof that Pinkie could still surprise her, this time by doing absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. The guard saluted and made his retreat, and Pinkie Pie beamed whilst making her approach.
“Hi!” Pinkie said. “I was in the neighbourhood. Or, well, I was in Canterlot because I took the train to Canterlot, and Luna said you were down here, so here I am!”
“Hello,” Celestia said, offering a small nod. “It is good to see you. I am just finishing up here. If you don’t mind me saying so, you seem happier than when last we met. I’m glad.”
And it was so very true. Not until now did Celestia realize how big a part of her had been holding its breath wondering what ailed Pinkie Pie, creating countless theories on what silenced the usually raucous pink mare. Her own smile was as much a sigh of relief as it was a facial expression.
“Uh-huh!” Pinkie said, skipping and bouncing the last few steps before she stood in front of Celestia. “What’re you up to anyway? I’m wondering why you haven’t painted the walls of your round-and-round staircase with candy cane colored stripes, but that’s probably because candy canes can be any color you want, so that’d be really hard I bet.”
“I am certain it would be an improvement regardless,” Celestia said in a tone that suggested agreement, chuckling whilst she gathered the various effects scattered about the room. Pinkie followed each of the levitating objects with her eyes; maps, sculptures, paintings, clothes and more, finally leaning so far over the chest, Celestia half feared she would fall in.
“Oh wow. What’s that?” she asked, pointing.
“This one?” Celestia asked. At her command, a scroll hesitated in its journey back towards the chest. She smiled as she unfurled the fragile material. “It is an old contract, and much of the reason why there is no war with the griffins. I thought it worth keeping.”
“Aw. I thought maybe it was a recipe or something important,” Pinkie said with a rather exaggerated pout. Celestia arched a brow, trying her best to decide whether or not she was joking.
“I am afraid that is one of the very few things you will not find down here. I have not yet gotten around to trying my hoof at baking.”
“That’s okay, I’ll teach you,” Pinkie said.
“Perhaps one day." Celestia chuckled.
Pinkie grinned, apparently supremely satisfied with this, but true to form, the lull in the conversation didn’t last more than two seconds before Pinkie bounced up on all fours.
“Oh right, you were all ‘hi Pinkie, you look happy’, and I didn’t tell you why!”
Celestia hummed, sparing a fraction of effort to levitate the chest’s lid into place. “Is there a particular reason?”
“Yeah-huh!” Pinkie nodded frantically, taking a determined hop to bring her closer to the princess. “I figured it all out, and now we can totally go on a date!”
Celestia pulled back, blinked, and stared. “Excuse me?”
Pinkie frowned and rolled her jaw, her face contorting slowly as she sought a different angle. She raised one brow, then the other, this time speaking more slowly. It took visible effort; Pinkie’s entire body practically hummed with energy.
“Date. You and me!” She stuck out her tongue and scratched the top of her muzzle. “We should totally do something like that. Movies! Ooh, or a fancy restaurant. That’s what Rarity would call a date, and she knows these things.”
“You are presuming quite a lot.” Celestia shifted where she sat. She could scarcely begin to think before Pinkie went on.
“Sure!” Pinkie said. “Maybe we should go to Cloudsdale instead. Rainbow Dash is always talking about how awesome it is at sunset, and Fluttershy said that that’s what ‘romantic’ means, but it sounds a lot like what ‘colorful’ means, so I don’t think she knows what she’s talking about. She’s probably been reading too many books again.”
“I believe you are missing my point entirely,” Celestia said, voice as carefully flat and neutral as she could make it, but Pinkie took no notice. The princess shook her head, but Pinkie Pie was not even looking to her. Celestia swallowed a sigh.
Pinkie Pie giggle-snorted. “Oh, that’s fine by me, I don’t mind if you just wanna sit on a couch somewhere and eat marshmallows out of a bag, because that’s pretty much my favorite thing to do, only—”
“And precisely when did I say I wished to be a part of this?” Even though she tried to keep her face carefully blank, Celestia knew she wasn’t doing a very good job, and her voice sounded rough to her own ears now.
Finally, Pinkie Pie was silenced. The entire room went quiet as a tomb, and Pinkie’s smile faltered bit by bit until the corners of her mouth wobbled and sagged. Even her eyes seemed to have lost some of their spark. “Oh.”
Celestia took a deep breath and let it out as slowly as she could. When Pinkie Pie spoke up again, she sounded like another pony entirely, the words clumsy and slow.
“Um, that’s a ‘no,’ isn’t it? That’s okay. I mean, no’s aren’t my favorite, but—are we still friends?”
For half a second, hearing Pinkie Pie so subdued, Celestia wondered if she had a heart at all, but that little stab was an unwelcome confirmation. The princess of the sun risked a rather crude snort and stretched her neck to its fullest extent before she lit her horn.
“This is not the place for talk. I am going to relocate us unless you object.”
Pinkie’s acceptance came in the form of a confused nod, but that was more than enough. Celestia called upon her magic, and the dreary cellar disappeared not a moment later, giving way to far more welcoming surroundings.
At least, that was the plan. Grey stone faded, and rows of white-painted cupboards took their place. The polished stone floor winked out of existence, and now they stood upon marble tiles speckled with what Celestia assumed was tomato sauce. Instead of crates, there were stoves and counters.
Silver Ladle nearly dropped the pan she gripped in her mouth, and the entire palace kitchen staff froze momentarily when Princess Celestia and Pinkie Pie appeared in their midst.
“Princess. We were just about to get started on dinner,” her head chef said, depositing her cargo on a nearby bench before bowing low. A dozen curious eyes were fastened on them from all around the vast kitchen landscape, ponies peeking over and around the rows of counters that lined the brightly lit room.
“I am glad. May I have use of the room for now, though?” Celestia smiled with conviction and purpose. That always did the trick. The staff glanced at each other in confusion, then back at her, but Celestia kept smiling expectantly. A second later, Silver Ladle bowed again and gave a muttered “Princess”, leading the rest of the chefs out and into the palace halls.
Pinkie Pie didn’t ask, but Celestia felt compelled to answer. “Apparently, I am terribly distracted and hungry, and I focused much more on ‘away’ than any specific location, but this will serve for now. I suppose I should be pleased we are still in the palace.”
Still Pinkie Pie said nothing. Perhaps it was up to Celestia to say something less vapid first, then. The princess closed her eyes for something that was little more than an extended blink, a bid for time to collect herself, but when she again looked, all that remained of Pinkie Pie was a bushy pink tail poking out from a nearby cupboard. Celestia planted her royal tush on the floor and watched while Pinkie darted around the kitchen. Eventually, she’d produced a plastic bowl and a host of dry ingredients. It did wonders in dispelling the princess’ frown.
“May I ask what you are doing?” Celestia asked.
Pinkie peered over her own shoulder, little more than an extended glance. She nodded and gave a little huff before hopping on top of the counter, pouring sugar into the bowl.
“I’m baking. I should start listening to ponies who are cleverer than me, but I don’t,” she said, mustering up a fierce pout. “I never listen. I know how to make cookies, but stupid, silly Pinkie Pie never listens to other ponies.”
“That doesn’t sound right to me. Why—” Celestia tried, but Pinkie cut her off.
“It is!” Pinkie cried, flinging the now empty bag of sugar into the air and leaning over the bowl. “I keep saying stupid things, and I keep doing stupid things, and that’s what stupid ponies do, and now—”
Celestia lit her horn and yanked the bowl away from under Pinkie Pie, hovering it up and out of reach. Pinkie Pie flopped onto the counter and glared up at the bowl without moving.
“Hey. Give that back!”
“Not for as long as you insult yourself so. You are not stupid, and anypony to suggest anything of the sort will answer to me.” Celestia narrowed her eyes at the sullen pony. “And that includes you yourself. Explain.”
Rather than answer, Pinkie Pie stared long and hard at the bowl of sugar that hovered close to the ceiling. A moment later, a pink missile launched from the counter, latching on to it with forehooves and teeth both, dangling from the poor piece of kitchenware like some outsize ornament.
Celestia sighed and levitated both Pinkie and the bowl down until she was eye to eye with Pinkie Pie, their snouts almost close enough to touch. She lowered her voice to one step above a whisper, patience warring with urgency, curiosity with confusion. “Pinkie Pie? You have done nothing wrong, and I am not angry, but I need you to help me understand. Why this? Why now?”
Pinkie Pie stared right back at her, still clinging to the bowl. Eyes that had been defiant now softened, and her ears drooped.
“At the beginning, please,” Celestia said, gently putting Pinkie and her precious bowl back onto the ground. Pinkie Pie nodded her head once, cradling the sugar bowl.
“I tried to think, I really did. See, before we went to the Wandering Wonderland, Twilight told me that if I really really liked you, I should think about it first, and I thought that sounded really clever, so I did. Not just because Twilight is a really good friend and super important to me, but because it sounded responsible, and I can be responsible, I really can!” Pinkie sighed and dipped her head into the mound of sugar, coming back up with a sugar-frosted muzzle.
“But I’m terrible at thinking. You have no idea how bad I am at it! It’s not like when I need to think about who to invite for a party, I had no idea what to think! And I don’t know how to think about anything when there’s something I’d rather be doing, either, like hanging out with the neatest and prettiest and best princess ever.” Pinkie gave a weak little giggle and shook her head. “I tried. I tried so hard to figure this thinking thing out, but it just made my head hurt. It made some other things hurt, too.”
Pinkie Pie brought a hoof up to touch her own chest, her eyes downcast. “I don’t know. When we got back from the theme park, I told Twilight everything I had tried to think about, and how terrible it was, because sometimes, I think—” Pinkie paused, reaching back to grab a hold of her own tail. “Applejack likes this one word, and I don’t use it a whole lot because it sounds silly and boring all at the same time, but the word’s ‘sincere’. I thought maybe Twilight thought I wasn’t sincere just because I was super excited.”
Celestia sighed and reached up to rub at her own forehead, the few missing pieces falling into place. Pinkie Pie didn’t seem to pay her much heed, resting her head on the rim of the sugar bowl now.
“She told me she didn’t mean it like that, that she didn’t mean to make me sad or hurt either. She said she’d been really stupid, and that I was silly and stupid too, and then we hugged and pretended not to cry.” Pinkie giggled and sniffled both at once. “She cares a lot. And I care a lot, too. I guess.” Slowly her eyes rose, tentatively tracing Celestia’s form until they came to rest upon the princess’ own eyes.
“And I care about you a lot, but you’re not surprised at all that I said that. You’re not going all, ‘oh wow, Pinkie Pie really really likes me and said we should totally go on a date.’ I guess that means you knew.”
Celestia nodded once, as slow and gentle a movement as she could make it. “I suspected it, to be precise. I thought you might.”
Pinkie Pie smiled, but it wasn’t the sort of smile to bring joy to anypony’s heart. It was a smile that cut deep, a wounded and wounding thing. Though she didn’t slow down in the least, her voice was thinner and more desperate with every word.
“I think you’re great, and I want to see you smile, but I want to see everypony—and griffin, and everything else smile, too, so I don’t understand all of it, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know what I want. I can be sincere. I can mean things that matter, too.”
“And I believe you.” Celestia said, rising up to take the three steps she needed to bridge the distance between them. She could of course simply have levitated Pinkie over to her side with a thought, but that was exactly the point. The princess leaned down to bring herself level with Pinkie. “I believe your every word, and anypony who thinks your opinions matter less because of your mannerisms is wrong. You know your friends know better, and so do I. Trust us. Trust me.”
Pinkie Pie steepled her hooves and swallowed. “But you said no.”
Celestia shook her head a fraction of an inch, leaning further forward. “I did not. Again you presume, and that is the problem. You did not ask me any questions, so I said neither yes nor no.”
Pinkie’s reply was a blink and another blink. Slowly the earth mare sat up, her head following Celestia as the taller alicorn sat up straight.
“You never asked,” the princess said, again. “Perhaps you should have considered that it would be polite to leave it up to me to decide.”
“Oh.” Pinkie’s ears remained pinned flat to her skull. “Normally, ponies just tell me no when they don’t want to play or something. Sometimes they’re pretty loud when they do, too.”
“Then sometimes, if you do not want a ‘no’, asking for a yes may help. It is respectful, and while I may enjoy your company every bit as much as your friends do, I will not pretend I am okay with being ignored. I happen to like being given a choice.” Celestia chuckled and flashed a smile. “And perhaps certain princesses have not been asked out for many, many years and would quite like that. I may be old-fashioned at times.”
Pinkie Pie rubbed her eyes with the back of a leg, nodding fiercely. “I can do that. I can be the asking-est pony ever!”
Celestia shook her head and laughed. “The pony doesn’t exist who in their right mind would want you to be somepony other than Pinkie Pie. All I ask is that sometimes, you offer something in return. I respect that you are serious, and for that, you need to respect that this is a question with an answer, not something you are entitled to.”
That brought forth a smile. Pinkie rose to stand, bouncing on the spot. “I’m pretty much the best at being Pinkie Pie, I got that that down pat. So. Can we hug now? Or, oh, right, sorry." Pinkie cleared her throat and planted all fours on the floor, looking up at Celestia with a bright, cheery grin. "D’you wanna hug?”
“I would be delighted to,” Celestia said, grinning right back. She barely had the time to finish her sentence before Pinkie wrapped her forelegs around her neck and squeezed her tight. It was hardly the cordial neck-hugs that Twilight favored, but still she did not complain. Celestia unfurled a wing to wrap around Pinkie Pie and squeeze back.
“Do you wanna go on a date sometime too?”
The words were muffled, and when Celestia craned her neck to look down, she saw Pinkie Pie’s muzzle resting alongside her chest looking right back up at her, smiling, ever smiling. She hadn’t been lying when she said that she wanted to hear those exact words, a simple question that at times seemed reserved for everypony but a princess.
“Yes. Yes I would,” Celestia said.