Andrew is fully prepared to guffaw the instant he sees a (presumably talking) pony version of himself. When he draws up to the top of the stairs, though, all he can do is stare at the little blue and white animal. That shape -- that's exactly the way his reflection looked at that party, so long ago, when everyone had been grabbed up by the time scoop and turned into ponies. "I have better things to do," he replies absently, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket for his brainy specs, and not questioning the fact that he actually finds them there. "That," he decides, "is very, very weird."