PK surprised herself with a smile. She found foreigners delightful. Maybe it was something about how cheerful they usually tended to be, or maybe it was something about the way they talked. Either way, growing up in this hub had let her learn to appreciate these Pokemon. Foreign accents reminded her of growing up, and as such, they tickled her fancy.

Her smile lost its edge when she realized she hadn’t heard any sort of real accent in weeks.

And to further remove the edge of her glee, Twigs didn’t seem to share in her delight at all. Now he was grooming his tail. Realizing she was quite alone once more, she slumped back into her seat. This should have been a nice meal to enjoy, but the afternoon wasn’t panning out so well. She felt utterly alone in this tiny wooden shack. Twigs could have been gone, and what? It wouldn’t have mattered. The bustling outside was muted; there were only the slick sounds of barbed tongue combing fur and the slapping of fish as Nibble got to his quarry.

And eventually he returned to the front room, carrying a dead Goldeen in his freakish second maw. Of course! A Goldeen! Truth be told, she should have and could have figured out what he meant, but was too delighted by his accent to relay her guess. Oh well.

“See! This, Tosakinto!” he said, pointing up to the fish. “Very tasty too, if you like. Goldy for you?”

This was too much. Something about the way he said “goldy” with such a serious and worried express got to her funny bone, and she started to laugh. She leaned forward over the counter, trying to catch her breath, and failing to do so for a few beats. When she was finally ready to answer him, she looked up and caught his trouble gaze. She felt a little bad, for he must have thought she was laughing at him. That just wasn’t true! Well, not exactly. Well, okay, maybe she was laughing at him, but it wasn’t out of malice. Accents really were charming!

To try and reassure the thoroughly reddened chef, she gave a broad smile. She couldn’t have scowled even if she’d wanted to right now, for that exhilarating laughter had put some sort of spring in her cheeks, keeping her grin in place. It must have worked a little, because his tense posture eased a little and he looked back at her a little bashfully. That was all right. It was better than him feeling terrible for the rest of the day. She kept it in her mind to send a gift his way when she got home.

Meanwhile, Twigs had just finished putting all of his hairs in their proper place. His keen eyes were resting on Nibble. Unfortunately, this penetrating... look (or, you could call it a glare, really, and not be any less accurate) caused Nibble to clamp his strange head-jaw together out of some instinctive reaction. Nibble gratingly realized a moment too late what he’d done, and the fish’s face and tail fell to the wooden floor with a splat not an instant later.

PK was dumbfounded. Twigs had a way of sucking the life out of this Mawile, and she simply did not understand why he had to appear so stern. If there was something notable that had changed, it was his attitude toward others. Had he been like that as a Meowth? She didn’t think so. She couldn’t remember it being so bad. Or maybe it was a fluke? Surely... or maybe he was having a bad day? Stomach ache?

It might have occurred to PK that she was making excuses for his poor behavior toward the likable chef, but she shoved that somewhere back into her subconscious. Maybe if she hadn’t been overworked, blinded by the money, and overcome with the strange obligation to see through whatever it was that he wanted of her, well then maybe she might have told him off right there. Maybe she might have spoken up and let him know what a little sleazeball she thought he really was. Maybe she would have told Nibble it was fine, and burst into another round of laughter.

But, she didn’t. She sat, mouth agape, still at loss for words. Poor guy! she thought. Poor, poor guy!

======

Part 9 of "The Dates"

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