Guh, just my luck the cider’s all froze up in the fuel tanks, have to pull this wagon home the old fashioned way… and of course one of the damn tanks is leaking helium already. Ugh, I sound like a mare… oh, what’s this guy want?  
“My, what’s a lovely mare like you doing pulling a heavy wagon full of air tanks through this cold? If you want a place to come and stay warm, my mill’s just up the road, and I’m always happy to show a mare a… fulfilling time%”  
“Eh, no, I’m fine, thanks. And, uh, it’s not air in these things, it’s actually gaseous P-235-”  
“Oh, so you must be one of Angel’s friends, then? Or just a delivery mare for them? Either way, well, I don’t like to toot my own horn, but in some ways I’m the resident expert on what P-235 can do to someone. Would a lovely mare like you care for a hooves-on demonstration, perhaps?% I’m sure they wouldn’t mind to be missing one small tank of the stuff.”  
This moron actually doesn’t… Oh, wait, that’s right, that’s where I’ve seen those cutie marks before. Well, guess Night Strike wasn’t lying too much, this guy really is a bit of a creep… and he still doesn’t know who I am, does he? Eh, never look a gift horse in the mouth…  
“Yanno what? Yeah, one of these tanks is a bit leaky anyways, why don’t you show me what this can do. Here, I’ll help unload a few of these things, too…”
 
Seems that Parchment has managed to catch me on a pickup run for a few tanks of P-235, freshly synthesized and pressurized for later use. And lucky me, the helium leaking from one has made me just a bit more like a mare than usual… but, also lucky me, Parchment’s not yet taken a good look at my backside, somehow. Well, when the opportunity for shenaniganery presents itself, who am I to say no? Besides, this was just a spare shipment, anyways, I can sacrifice one tank.
 
If only Parchment knew who he was talking to…