Inkie was no longer Inkie. It was Ink Quill now, thank you very much. She wore her glasses now and her Cutiemark couldn't be clearer ; she was to write. Write, write, write. Primrose was now working in a gourmet restaurant in Canterlot known as Upper Crust, owned by a mare of the same name and her husband Jet Set. Or at least Ink Quill thought it was so. It could be owned by the stallion. She didn't care. All she cared about was her job. So far, she'd covered a schoolfilly and a schoolfoal whom both had a club about reading. She'd wanted to cover King Sombra, and Queen Crysalis, and everything else interesting that happened in the Crystal Empire. But instead, those things went to some two-bit writer called Scribe Shavings. Oh, how she hated this stallion. He wasn't half as good a writer as she.