Relief. This was the only word, the only thought, on Malt’s mind as PK appeared from beyond the striped drapes marking the entrance (and simultaneously, the exit) to the hut. Malt had been in the middle of marking off tasks that had been completed for the day when she arrived. He was happy to set aside his to-do list in order to check on her, how her day had gone, if she had fun, etc. He had hoped she might regain a bit of her lost sheen if she simply took a day off to enjoy herself. No such luck here, apparently. She looked more exhausted and weary than she’d been at the start of the day. What on earth was the matter? He had to know. What went wrong along the way?

It seemed that she intended to simply head to bed without speaking to Malt. It couldn’t have been later than six or seven in the evening, but she only ever started up the stairs to retreat to her room and sleep. That had been the procedure since Malt had started helping her fix things around the place. PK would work all day around the village, ordering Pokemon around, managing and overseeing projects, and... hardly sleeping. So Malt knew that when she was retiring to her room, it was for that precious (and hard to come by) sleep. He didn’t want to bug her, but at the same time he had to at least make sure there wasn’t anything wrong that he couldn’t fix before the next day had arrived...

“Hey, PK?”

She stopped on a broken stair, didn’t return his look. “What?” she spoke sharply.

Malt had grown used to her erratic moods and mostly did a pretty good job at buffering himself from any harsh words, but he really had been betting on her returning in a better mood. This wasn’t right, this wasn’t what he’d been expecting, and so his guard had been lowered (a mistake indeed!)--thus causing her tone to cut through him quite easily. He lost resolve to continue his thought, to share his concern, leading him to abandon the conversation early. He’d save it for the morning when the early sun might do its trick and help restore her mood. That’s just what he would do.

“Er, nothing. I just remembered. Sorry bout it, g’night.”

She stood there for just a beat longer, and Malt figured she was deciding whether or not to reply. She chose to bite her tongue and hold back, continuing up the stairs wordlessly.

Malt became incredibly uneasy. Despite being practical, he had a pretty good intuition about others. Working in the trade business, it was important to hone good Pokemon observation skills and to go with your gut feeling. He knew that both PK and Shroomsworth usually had a great sense about others and their intentions from the start. Sometimes it failed them (as Palette would attest), but overall they together made a lot of accurate judgments. The importance in observation of others was often the first lesson they would administer to any newbies joining the guild, and from time to time it had helped the guild leaders weed out the dishonest joinees looking for a quick and easy heist.

So, Malt was certain that PK would have had an unfavorable opinion of Twigs when he’d first shown up in the ruins of the hut. Malt’s base feeling was that this fellow would hold back his true intentions until it served him best. He didn’t want to be biased or discriminatory or anything, but Persians (especially those with money) were often known for just that behavior. It seemed that Meowth and Persian were prone to growing up really selfishly if not raised in precise conditions.

His surprise was unimaginable when PK announced, not too long after her sister had left and taken the “guard” Bagon with her, that she-

(yes, she, PK!)

-was going to go on a date with the aforementioned Persian. Malt was truly taken aback; why, what insane deception was underway? Especially so soon after she had cried over the loss of her former partner? Nothing quite added up, and PK herself wouldn’t really speak of it after that point. And not even days later, he had tracked her down in the forest and found her delusionally talking to herself about Sorbet and Shroomsworth. It was clear she still mourned and wished for his return, and yet... yet she still had immediately decided to go out with this fellow who set off all the wrong sorts of bells and whistles in Malt’s head.

This... this fellow of whom Malt had heard very little before arriving in the village on the day of the disaster.

This fellow who had given PK a ludicrous amount of “spare change” to help with improvements and expansions for the village, so that it might become a town (though Malt wasn’t supposed to have known who gave her the money, he knew anyway, as he wasn’t stupid).

This fellow who had caused PK to look worse than she had in ages.

It was decided. Malt was going to make PK talk to him about the situation. As her assistant guild leader, he deserved at least the truth about the finances, even if he already knew where they were coming from. From there, he would try to coax more out of her. Slowly, but surely. He didn’t want her going any more crazy than she already had, and so he suspected that the only real measure was to try to get her to examine the situation for herself. If he said the wrong words, she’d undoubtedly turn on him. He had to at least make sure this Twigs guy was the source of her anguish before confronting anyone or raising any issues. That was important. If she could see for herself what was bothering her, it would do her a lot more good than letting advice fall flat. He knew this about her, at the very least. She had to know things for herself; hearing from others was never good enough.

Malt picked back up his to-do list and started writing out more tasks. He would at least busy his hands while his mind ticked away at more pressing issues.

========
Part 17 of "The Dates"
Prev:

Next: