"Wait, lemme get this straight, you just scanned the design into a computer and sent it off to your friend at school using a network? How the Hell does that work?" Sam was thoroughly confused, and I was in no mood to explain the intricate details of a network.
"It just does, Sam. Kind of like how your world's magic works. Socially, you guys over in Equestria are more advanced than us by a long shot. Technologically, you're barely industrial revolution level. You'll get computers eventually." I flipped the eggs over in the pan before adding more cheese, then hear the toaster click. "You mind checking the pita?"
"Dude, that thing's designed for your hands, not my hooves. I don't want to get burned." The pony shot me a smug look, his head still adorned with one of the helms from the steamer trunk in the dining room.
"You do know you look ridiculous in armor, right?" The eggs were fully cooked and I placed half on one plate and half on another, being very careful about the plating.
"Better than being unprotected from your projectile cooking."
"You still want food? I can eat this all on my lonesome, you know." My hands deftly picked out the flatbread halves now toasty and golden brown from the infernal device that cooked them.
"You still want to know why I'm here? I can't tell you if I die of hunger." The pony started to reach for a plate, but I smacked the offending hoof away with one hand.
"You know it isn't done. Mug or bowl?"
"What?"
"For your coffee. Is what you normally drink from a mug or closer to a bowl?"
"Mug." he scoffed. "Do I look like a dog?"
"Maybe some kind of german shepherd/great Pyrenees mix." I pulled two mugs from the cabinet and set them on the counter, reaching for the coffee pot.
"You look like an ugly ass chimpanzee, and yes, we have those where I come from." he retorted, and I stifled a laugh.
"Touche!" I poured the coffee, placing two spoons of raw sugar in each, then mixing and adding half-and-half.
"Hey, Mom," the pony and I said in unison as my mother came into the kitchen from work, considering the time, it was lunch break.
•∞•§•∞•
4 hours earlier
Sol 3, Orion Spur
37°37′36″N 104°47′2″W
"So, you want something to eat?" I asked, having finally calmed down enough to think clearly.
"What, you drag me out of bed and then take me for breakfast? I'd've brought breakfast in bed." The pony joked mildly, standing next to a piece of scrap metal that had once been a bicycle frame.
"No you wouldn't," I deadpanned. "You may want to get away from that, the handlebars aren't firmly attached anymore."
"Bad wreck?"
"Eeyup."
The first thing Sam did upon going upstairs that morning was head to the dining room and put on some armor. My questions were met with "It's going to be an interesting morning." I couldn't really blame the brown eyed pony, I probably would have done the same thing. But the chain mail hung off of him ridiculously, and the helm was not designed with ponies in mind. Although I did think it may keep frying pans at bay, and his more humanoid face kept him from having to scrunch up too much to get it on. Add in four or five gorgets and there was a half armored pony standing in my dining room.
Fortunately, the armor was unneeded, Mom came into the kitchen just as Sam and I started making cinnamon oat meal, and she grumbled something about needing coffee before starting the pot and staggering back to her room.
Or, that is, starting to. As soon as she crossed the threshold and Sam took off the helm, chuckling slightly, she turned and locked her widened eyes with the pony. "Hey, Mom!" He greeted her, and I promptly facepalmed.