Poetic Justice glanced at the clock. These guys would be punctual, so she had a few minutes. She moved through the living room of her small apartment, pulling the armchair from it's place in front of the tv and leaving it in front of the door. She pulled the little folding table over and opened it up on the chair's left side. Scurrying to the kitchen, she came back with bottle of cider, lifted from a raid a few months back. No pony would miss it.

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