"Uhh..." Scootaloo stared back at Velvet, whose expression was neutral. He looked almost bored. "You guys wouldn't happen to have a 'right to remain silent' thing, would you?"

"That only applies to citizens of the Kindred planet and other Bureau-aligned planets. However, we were unable to find any sort of identification on your pony." Velvet adjusted the lamp on his desk once more, and the edge of the light now shone directly in Scootaloo's face. She had to squint to keep looking at him. "So, unless you can provide us some sort of evidence of your citizenship, you don't have that privilege."

Scootaloo blinked. "So what you're telling me is that because I don't have my ID on me, I don't have any rights? Sounds like the cops could abuse that pretty bad..."

"No, you misunderstand," Velvet said, "which tells me more about you than you probably meant. You see, we don't just carry our IDs around on pieces of plastic—all Bureau IDs are implanted in the hindleg or the torso of all citizens. They can easily be scanned to verify the identity of a pony—or other creature."

Scootaloo could feel a bead of sweat on her forehead. She wiped it aside with a foreleg. "You're not kidding?"

"Indeed, I am not. And you were found unconscious, covered in shards of glass, on the road between Dienna and Capricorn. You were scanned and found to not contain any ID—therefore, you must not be a citizen of a Bureau planet. So, let me reiterate: who are you, and where do you come from?"

Scootaloo quivered nervously where she sat on the sofa. "Wh-what happens if I don't tell you?"

Velvet sighed. "I assure you, it would be much easier for the both of us if you just told me what I needed to know so we could move on. I have much better things to do, and if you're not deemed a threat then you'll probably be let free. All we need is the truth."

"You didn't answer me," Scootaloo replied. She felt surprised at herself for saying it.

Velvet, previously focused on both the screen and the filly in front of him, turned away from the computer and put both of his forelegs on the desk. He leaned forward. "Filly, if you won't tell me anything, I have no choice but to keep you locked up here. I don't like it any more than you do—in fact, it irks me to no end since you're taking up much-needed space in this already-full penitentiary—but the law is clear. We can't have illegals roaming the planet, and especially not ones who refuse to say where they came from and why they're here."

"Does this happen often?" Scootaloo asked.

"Nnnngh... you're testing my patience filly. I'm the one supposed to be asking the questions here, for Aureate's sake!" The stallion pushed on the desk with his hooves, sending his chair back a few centimetres. "I need you to tell me something, please."

Scootaloo looked at him and the (fake?) desperation in his facial expression. Here was a pony whose life she was potentially making more miserable by not talking and yet... she didn't feel like she could reveal much about who she was and where she came from just yet. She had barely seen what these ponies were like; who knew how they would take it, and what they would do to her? Scootaloo didn't know how much she could trust the Bureau; even though Kevin had said they weren't that bad... she just had a weird feeling about them.

"Well?" Velvet said, interrupting her train of thought.

"I'll tell you my name, at least," Scootaloo finally responded. "My name is... Tangerine." She fought a smirk.

"Hmm, interesting," Velvet said. "It's almost believable, too."

"What?"

Velvet rolled his eyes and turned away to face his computer. He once again lifted up the control ball and pressed in several of the buttons, twirling it around in the air as he went. After about thirty seconds, he set the ball down and used his magic to rotate the thick computer screen on its stand to face Scootaloo. On the screen was a sickeningly familiar image and she already knew what was going to happen before he pressed play.

"Well, I don't really know," echoed Scootaloo's voice from the speaker grates on either side of the screen. The image was that of the little filly, from above in one of the cell's ceiling corners. "It's as I told you—one moment I was flying on a ship with... a friend, and next thing I know I wake up here. My name's Scootaloo, by the way." Once the Scootaloo on the screen finished talking, Velvet pressed a button which stopped the video and he magically rotated the computer screen on its stand back to face him. Scootaloo's face had grown hot while the video was playing; by the end, she felt like she was going to throw up.

"Scootaloo... we're not bad ponies. We just want to help you. I don't know where you come from, who your friend is, or how you got here, but if you don't tell me those things then we can't move forward."

Scootaloo didn't respond at first. She stared blankly at Velvet's face ahead of her, behind the desk. He frowned. Finally, in a weak voice, she managed to say, "I'll consider it."

Velvet sighed once more. "Well, that's some progress, I guess. Until whenever you decide, though, I'm going to have to send you back to your cell."

Scootaloo nodded. "I understand." She watched as the stallion used the computer; she couldn't imagine the sheer amount of mental focus operating one of those things would take, and the stallion made it look so easy with how fluidly he rotated the control ball and pushed and pulled at the little buttons with his magic.

"I've sent for a guard to come get you," Velvet said without looking up from the computer screen. "In the meantime, you can just wait on that couch. I'm going to get back to work, so please don't interrupt me."

Scootaloo didn't respond; she just leaned over to lie down on the couch and tried to soak in as much of its comfort as she could before she was brought back down to her cell.