Dr. Whooves and the Reality War

 "Tan, Ash, and White... most ponies would probably think of the aftermath of a forest fire in a snowstorm, but for me that only brings up memories of my ex-wife... who had a habit of setting buildings on fire, now that I think about it. Usually while I was still in them." The unicorn muttered, lighting a cigarette off the smouldering butt of the previous one. He scribbled furiously at a notepad while staring at Ako... probably. The mirror-surface sunglasses made it difficult to see exactly what the green stallion was watching.

His head shifted slightly, angling upward. "It was a relationship that went to the dogs faster than scrambled eggs spilled on the floor." The pony stopped, taking a heavy drag on the burning paper tube and openly gawked. "...some kinda mylar or shiny fabric? Dunno, seems too early for a sci-fi convention, and too late for Nightmare Night. So... genuine travelers? Someone would like me to think so, I think. So... bears more investigating." The pony rambled, as oblivious to the fact that his quarry was now staring back  as he was to the way the local crowd avoided him.

"Err," Cain mumbled, "Pony Scribble, is strange unicorn talking to or simply about us?"