About “Ponies” in a few words:

Ponies drops you into 1977 Moscow, where two American wives of CIA agents suddenly find themselves in way over their heads. After their husbands die under mysterious circumstances, Bea and Twila convince the Agency to let them work as undercover operatives — because who better to fly under the radar than people no one suspects? They wade into espionage, weird diplomatic dinners, dangerous conspiracies, and more than a few laughs, all while trying to get to the bottom of what really happened to their spouses.

Meet the characters from Ponies

Beatrice Grant

Beatrice Grant is the kind of overprepared, slightly intimidating organizer who somehow keeps everything running even when chaos is two minutes away. She’s got a clipboard, a list, and opinions about where the muffins should go — but, weirdly, she’ll drop everything to help you rescue a lost duckling; like, instantly. People assume she’s all strict schedules and no fun, but she secretly doodles tiny stars in the margins of her plans and once took a spontaneous midnight road trip (true, she said it was “research”). She’s decisive and practical and also a bit nostalgic, which is why her apartment is filled with teacups she swore she didn’t need—then kept anyway. Basically she’s reliable, a little contradictory, and someone you absolutely want on your side when the weather turns weird.

Twila Hasbeck

Twila Hasbeck reads like someone who wandered out of a cozy fable and decided to start a book club in the middle of a thunderstorm. Soft-spoken but stubborn, she’s the friend who will listen to you rant for three hours and then hand you a homemade herbal tea that somehow fixes the problem — or at least makes it bearable. She’s endlessly curious (can spend hours cataloging moth patterns) and also a practical person who knows when to say no, which is a surprisingly rare combo. She insists she’s not a morning person but also owns seven alarm clocks and swears by 6:17 a.m. as a magical hour — don’t ask, she’ll just smile and change the subject. Twila’s warmth creeps up on you; she seems quiet until you notice how many lives she’s quietly improved without making a fuss.

Dane Walter

Dane Walter bursts in like someone who was two parts daring explorer and one part neighborhood dad, and honestly, it works. He’s adventurous and loud and also suspiciously good at assembling flatpack furniture without swearing (a skill he denies having taught anyone else). He’s loyal to a fault — will dive into a river for a friend or for a particularly dramatic sunset photo — and loves telling exaggerated stories that somehow become truer each time. Also, completely random: he keeps a knitting bag in his car for “emergencies” and once knit a hat for a stray pup during a thunderstorm, which he pretends was an accident. Bright, chaotic, and endlessly optimistic, Dane is the person you want leading the charge and doing the victory dance afterward.

Andrei Vasiliev

Andrei Vasiliev is the sort of quietly handsome, dark-eyed enigma who cooks borscht like it’s a state secret and reads philosophy on the tram. He’s measured, thoughtful, sometimes a little broody, but in that intense, protectively-sweet way that makes you hand him your keys and trust he won’t lose them (probably). There’s an old-soul vibe — loves classical music, collects pocket watches — but he also owns three neon socks and insists mismatched footwear is a rebellion against monotony. He can be intimidating in meetings yet will randomly leave tiny notes of encouragement (illegible handwriting) on coworkers’ desks, which is both charming and mildly suspicious. Andrei is complicated in the best sense: steady, surprising, and someone who’ll remember your birthday and then forget where he put the cake.

Cheryl Symanski

Cheryl Symanski is pure, unapologetic sparkle — loud laugh, louder hair, and a phone constantly full of pictures of snacks she “might need later.” She’s the social engine of any group, allergic to awkward silences and an absolute pro at turning them into a themed party (even if it’s just three friends and a casserole). Surprisingly grounded though — she’ll give you brutally honest advice at 2 a.m., and she’s got this weird, calming habit of folding napkins like origami when thinking. She claims she hates responsibility but also volunteers on community clean-up day and organizes donation drives, which is both adorable and intimidating. Cheryl is chaotic-good energy: showy, empathetic, sometimes contradictory, and impossible not to love.