Both the mare and the foal turn their heads as they're approached. The little orange colt faces his mother, a dumb look on his face, clearly not knowing what to do. His mother faces the newcomer, an eyebrow raised.
It was already clear to Aperta that these ponies weren't Equestrian -- their accents and language immediately caught her attention, as well as the smell of smoke that drifted her nose as the mare trotted up to her. She had figured it was merely from some odd cigarettes; they were common where she was from, and no doubt it was common everywhere else as well. ...But then the word 'forge' was brought up, and immediately, her thoughts turned around.
Perhaps a bit too suddenly -- her thoughts were a little scrambled at this, and she had a hard time trying to understand. She could pick up on some foreign words, yes; she had dealt with oblivious tourists back at home before she learned Equestrian, and was familiar with context. Trying to piece together the best she could what she already knew, she knew she needed to ask more questions -- most of which pertaining to this Mister You-Me.
"...Vell, I... I suppose I could show you around, if needed be," she said, her accent distinct. "Although zis station is so big, it vould take me a couple of days to see it all. ...But I can't say I know of a new forge. A bit of an odd reqvest, for a station like zis, but, zat's beside ze point. Mister You-Me, you said? ...Rings a bell..." She squinted and tapped her chin. It was on the tip of her tongue... "Tsk tsk, Leale, do you know about zis man?"
The little orange furball looked up at his mother. "...Uuuuh... Kiiiinda sounds familiar," he says, his voice mixing with his mother's about as well as toothpaste and lemon juice. Clearly, this little foal was from Canterlot, and more specifically, the suburbs. "What's he look like?"
His mother looked at the mare in front of her without saying a wo