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The Customer Is (Not) Always Right

Chapter 11: Fowl Language

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I carefully lay my new shield down on the counter, holding it with a cloth so as not to tarnish its sleek purple surface with fingerprints. The streamlined kite shield shimmers in the soft yellow lamplight, my exquisite paint job complimenting the natural color tones of the Goddess plume infused within it. Emblazoned with a single golden bird claw and a great white bird spreading its wings, it is truly a sight to behold. The artwork might seem extravagant, but I've been running this business long enough to know my shields sell because they look great. It's all in the presentation.

I decided to call my new creation the Sacred Shield. It seemed like a fitting title for a shield forged from mystical Goddess stone. Of course, if that was all it was made of, it would shatter to bits if it were so much as dropped on the floor. So I had to spend late night after late night melting the delicate crystals together with eldin ore to create a hardier compound. It was tedious work finding just the right ratio of goddess crystal to iron ore that would maximize the shield's repair efficiency while sacrificing as little durability as possible, and even more work and time and money procuring those blue feathers from that lovely lost girl's loftwing. The oil from those lustrous blue feathers improved the shields capabilities tenfold, though it is yet to be determined whether all my efforts will amount to anything. All I know is I've done everything in my power to ensure my shields are worthy of the invisible 500 rupee price tag I've attached to each of them.

If I manage to sell three of them at full price, I could pay off that pesky debt with the earnings alone. And if I can sell even more than that...no, best not to get my hopes up that high. Still, this couldn't be a more ideal time to release a new shield. It's that time of year when when senior knight academy students graduate. Their families lavish them with rupees and other gifts. And the ones who don't want to risk getting bludgeoned to death by octoroks on their first expedition usually invest those rupees in new gear.

Across the aisle, Manhands is finishing up her opening preparations. A giant vat of her nasty new shield repairing potion is bubbling at the far end of her counter. I pushed extra hard to get my shields in by today, the same day she was planning to put out that potion. It wasn't hard to figure out when she was to start selling it, seeing as she's been blabbing about it for days. I narrow my eyes to slits, allowing a sly smirk to break through for just a second.

This is round two.

I sweep my gaze across the Bazaar. The place seems to be bustling with activity again, at least for the time being. Count on everybody disappearing again the next time Beedle stocks some useless gadget. Looking to my left, I spot a yellow-garbed knight coming from the main stretch. It's the son of that floozy who wandered in here the other day. Pipit? Yes, that's his name. Pipit strolls this way, and I see that the wooden shield on his back is more battered and burnt to a crisp than ever. Surely, it's time for an upgrade? I put on my perkiest smile, preparing to intercept him.

"Hello, Pip—"

"HEY THERE, HANDSOME!" Clap clap clap. "How would you like to try a free sample?"

The knight's yellow-capped head swivels toward Manhands. "Free?" he says. "I'm not turning that down!"

I look on, dumbstruck, as he strides over to the Potion Shop, taking his money with him. Free samples? Free samples?! How am I supposed to compete with free samples?!

"Yup, it's free sample day at Luv and Bertie's Potion Shop today and today only. So step right up, young man!"

More like free diarrhea. Manhands bends down and produces a tray from underneath the counter. On the tray are several tiny vials filled with a noxious magenta liquid.

"Today, I'm handing out free samples of my newly brewed revitalizing potion." She offers Pipit a vial. "Simply pour a little bit of this elixir on that crummy old shield of yours, and it'll repair itself in a pinch! It's amazing!"

Pipit uncorks the vial and unhinges his charred shield from his back, bringing it around and tipping a little bit of the pinkish-purple potion onto it. The potion fizzes when it makes contact with the wood, giving off a pinkish steam that rises up into the ceiling. Once the potion has completely vaporized and the mist clears away, I spot a small patch of pristine, unchipped wood in its place, standing out in bold contrast to the dark and discolored wood around it. A small gasp escapes me. No way. How is that even possible?

"See? Good as new!" Manhands beams with pride, putting her hands on her hips. Pipit holds his shield up and marvels at it, looking as amazed, if not more amazed than I am. Yes, I think he's already sold.

"That is amazing!" the knight exclaims. "How much for a whole bottle?"

"Never thought you'd ask," says Manhands, a big-lipped smile on her face. "Normally I'd sell this potion for thirty rupees a bottle, but since you seem like such a sweet boy, I'll factor in the free sample and cut the price down to twenty eight rupees. That might still seem a little pricey, but when you think about it, it's a heck of a lot cheaper than buying a brand new shield!"

That wench.

"So how about it? You want to buy some for your travels?"

Without a missing a beat, Pipit digs in his pocket for his wallet. Ugh. Why? Why do I always lose to her? I turn my gaze away and go back to seeking out another potential customer. I can't bear to watch any longer. It makes me sick with envy.

"Oh, and sweetie? One more thing," I hear Manhands say after they've completed the exchange. "Don't drink this one."

I prick up my ears. This is news to me.

"Huh?" Pipit looks confused. "Why, what's wrong with it?"

"Well, it's not that there's anything wrong with it," Manhands narrows her eyes, sounding ever so slightly defensive. "See, drinking it was supposed to strengthen your immune system and help heal up cuts and bruises and other nasty things, but...well, that little feature's still in the works. The potion'll clean up your shield just fine, though!" she laughs. As if that's funny. "Thanks a lot, sweetie. Tell your friends!" She winks at him, sending him on his way. I sometimes wonder what it's like to have a middle-aged manlady twice your age hitting on you.

Once her customer has left, I work up the nerve to ask her the question that's been eating away at my mind.

"Very impressive!" I praise her, steeped in false niceness. "I must say, you've piqued my curiosity. How does that potion work, exactly?" I hover to the edge of the counter, for once genuinely interested in what she might have to say.

"Ah ah ah!" Manhands taunts, wagging a playful finger at me. She seals her lips. "A potioneer never gives away her secrets! Sorry, Rupin."

In other words, she might be out of business if people knew what was actually in it. Ignorance truly is bliss!

"Did you want a free sample, too, hon? If you don't have any banged-up shields, I'll let you taste the stamina potion if you want. I just made a fresh batch!"

I blink at her a moment. Stamina potion? Why that one? Is she insinuating something? I shake my head and decline politely. "No, thank you." I don't think I would drink that if I was at knife point.

"Aww. I've been trying to turn you into a customer for years, but you just won't bite, will you?" She leans toward me, a devilish gleam in her eyes. Her probing gaze travels over my counters until it settles on my shields. "Say, that's a pretty little shield you got back there. Is that one new? Does it do anything special?"

I fail to conceal a smirk, unable to resist the chance give her a taste of her own medicine. "It's a secret."

She lets loose bark of laughter. "Whoooa, easy there boy! Touché," she puts up her hands in a gesture of surrender. "Well, whatever it is, I hope it sells!"

She 'hopes it sells'? Is she serious? Or is she just trying to get under my skin? I really don't get her. She sabotages my business one minute, then acts like we're best buddies the next. What is her game? I mean, I guess still put in a good word for Gondo, even though he irks me. But that's mostly because I've come to realize that if not for his repair service, I would have more angry customers demanding refunds for broken shields. So what does Manhands hope to gain, or to avoid, by going out of her way to be friendly to me? Is it really because she's just been trying to bait me into buying one of her monstrous concoctions all this time? Or am I over analyzing and there is really nothing beyond her needing to satisfy her penchant for gossip?

No matter which way I cut it, the fact remains that I would be wrong in underestimating her. I call her stupid, but she's really not. In fact, she's very sharp. She's a horrible, conniving woman.

"Potions! Get your new revitalizing potions today! Free samples!" Manhands continues her assault on a group of passerby, raising her hands high above her head and smacking them together in noisy succession. The image of a monkey with cymbals comes to mind. I draw an exasperated breath. I don't wish to spend any more energy attempting to decipher her motives. Time to get back down to business. I scan the marketplace again, keeping my eyes peeled for those floppy, cone-shaped knight's caps. It's still early in the day and I'm nowhere near ready to give up.

I seek out my next target quickly: a familiar green knight with blue eyes and dirty blonde hair. He's over at the Item Check, depositing some extra baggage. I've actually been watching this one for a while now. Being a new knight, he has good potential to become a regular customer. And when I find a regular customer, I latch onto them and never let go. I keep an eye on him, going over my new sales pitch for the sacred shield in my head. I'll have to act fast once he comes over here if I am to get to him before Manhands.

And so I wait patiently. Longer, and longer. Until it's been more than five minutes. What is he even doing over there?! They stopped exchanging items ages ago. I squint at him. He's just standing there, talking to Peatrice. And smiling. What a nuisance. Everything about Peatrice's body language is practically screaming not interested. Can't he see she obviously doesn't want to talk to him? What is his problem? Honestly, how dense can you—

WHAM! "I need gear for a rescue mission!"

Someone slams their hand against my counter, scaring the devil out of me. I give a start, snapping my head toward my eager new customer. It's that ginger oaf with the atrocious pompadour—a knight academy student. My heart skips with elation.

"Well then—you've—come to the right place, my friend!" I falter, still a bit jarred from his sudden appearance. "What did you have in mind, exactly?"

"I dunno, that's what I was going to ask you. Load me up, gear peddler! Zelda's waiting for me to save her!" he pounds his fists on the counter again. I raise an eyebrow. What does he think this is, ordering a pint at the Lumpy Pumpkin? Well, this kid certainly has determination. Perhaps I can harness that to my advantage.

"So you're leaving it up to me then? All right. Let's get straight to business," I smile knowingly, clasping my hands together. "I take it you're the kind of guy who likes to make an explosive entrance. I know just what you need...bombs!" With a spin and a flourish, I swipe a bomb off the counter and hold it out to him. A lopsided grin stretches across his face.

"Ahaa! Yes, I can see the madness in your eyes. So loud. So satisfyingly smoky. And, oh yes, so very destructive!"

"I'll take sixty!" he shouts, practically shoving his bomb bag into my arms.

My grin widens to match his. "I'll bag those for you right away!"

I take his bomb bag into the store room and fill it until it's bursting at the seams. He took the bait. Now my trap just needs to spring. With some difficulty, I drag the full bomb bag to the front of the store, where the oaf has busied himself with slicking up his grotesque tower of orange hair. What's he doing, building a lightning rod? I suppose it could be useful for finding him in a crowd. Not that you'd want to find him.

"Here you are, friend," I strain to say, plopping the massive bag of bombs down by the entrance to my shop. He moves to take it. "But wait!"

He freezes, his eyes widening dramatically.

"Do you plan to go barreling into danger with nothing but a giant bag of bombs?!" I exaggerate my shock, as if the very idea is blasphemy. "How will you protect yourself?"

"Uh, well," he strokes his chin. "I didn't really think about that," he admits.

I shake my head. "My friend, venturing into unknown territory without a shield is like walking out the door without your pants on! Now, I don't mean to be pushy, but when I see a disaster waiting to happen, I simply must intervene. Come this way. Quickly! There's no time to lose. " I urgently motion for him to come into the shop. He throws an antsy look at the door, but trudges forward anyway. Yes. Come to me. I place a hand on his shoulder, guiding him toward the shield display.

"Fortunately, my shop is equipped with the goods to prepare you for every painful, excruciating ordeal you could ever encounter. Feast your eyes on my spectacular new sacred shield!"

"Ooooohh..."

"As you might surmise from its name, the sacred shield can withstand a variety of attacks. Fire? Not a sweat! Electricity? No painful zaps! But that's not even the best feature. The mystical power infused within this shield allows it to automatically repair itself when it sustains damage!" Eliminating the need for Gondo's pesky repair service and Luv's disgusting potions. "It really is the perfect shield for an avid bomber. Thanks to its auto-repair ability, it can sustain multiple bomb detonations in a row, and you won't have to spend a single rupee to fix it!"

"Now, it is a tad fragile, so you may have to give it substantial waiting time to seal up those cracks up between subjecting it to subsequent bomb blasts. But that shouldn't be a problem for one as talented and responsible as yourself! If you wish ensure success in your mission to rescue fair Zelda, you really must consider, hmm?"

He doesn't answer, staring at the shield in what I presume to be awe. Perhaps I overloaded his brain.

"Just look at the expert craftsmanship," I sigh, folding my arms. "It steals your breath away, doesn't it?"

"I guess so," he blinks. His ginger eyebrows appear to be working to reach some sort of conclusion. The skin around his nose crinkles up, like he has a bad aftertaste in his mouth. "Isn't purple kind of a girly color, though?"

My smiley front nearly collapses. "G-girly?!"

"Yeah," he grunts. "Plus this is way too small for my buff frame. Look." He picks up the shiny purple shield and holds it up to his muscular torso. "See? Tiny. I mean, I'm sure it's a good shield and all and it does all that cool stuff you were talking about. It's just designed more for puny lightweight wimps. Or girls. Duh huh huh."

"Ahaha...ha." Yes. I'll just laugh at your dumb joke to make you feel good about yourself.

"Yeah, Zelda might think I'm...uh, unmanly if she sees me with that thing." He winces, putting my spectacular new shield back down. "You got anything else?"

Your girlfriend's probably dead RIGHT NOW. "Of course I do, friend! We pride ourselves in having a wide selection." I direct his attention to the next shield in line: the iron one. "That rectangular one to your right is my magnificent iron shield, chiseled to perfection out of the purest Eldin ore. It is perhaps the sturdiest—ahem—manliest shield we carry. You'll find it's a great deal larger, and very resistant to high temperatures! However, I should warn you that unlike the very fine sacred shield over there, it won't protect you from electricity. That could come as quite a nasty shock." I say it every time so I will never have another lawsuit filed against me again. I give the oaf a friendly clap on the shoulder. "Just don't fly into the thunderhead with this shield equipped and you'll be perfectly fine! Are we clear?"

"Yeah, yeah, we're clear," he says dismissively. I swallow my annoyance. He grabs the rectangular shield off the counter and proceeds to strut about the store, flexing his biceps and striking defensive poses at random. Well, this is embarrassing. I don't bother pointing out that whatever effect he's going for is rather ruined by his mouth hanging open. It's not until he turns to address me that I realize I've been giving him a very peeved look. I revert back to my cheery grin.

"Gonna be straight with you, man. Shields aren't really my style," he says. "But you're right! This could come in handy. Especially if I have to, like, protect Zelda with one arm and sock somebody in the face with the other. How much?"

I smile pleasantly. "It'll be one hundred rupees."

His brow knits together with indecision.

"But since you're already spent more than one hundred rupees worth in bombs, I would be more than willing to sweeten the deal a bit! Just for you, 90 rupees."

He goes for it. I total the combined costs of the bombs and shield at a whopping 210 rupees. As I tuck the precious jewels safely in my apron, I try to remind myself that this is great. That these are fantastic earnings compared to most days, when I barely manage to scrounge 50 rupees. But unfortunately, I've never been all that good at focusing on the positive. All right, so the sacred shield wasn't for him. But did he have to go and take a dump all over it too?! Was that really necessary?! I feel so insulted. I slide his newly purchased iron shield toward him, trying not to let my spite show through.

"Thanks," he grunts. He gives the metal shield a firm pat, looking pleased with himself. "Yep, I like this shield a lot better than that purple one, huh huh. I'd look like a first-class pansy carrying that thing around."

I just smile. I could rip that ugly pompadour from its roots. "Well, I'm glad you were able to find the right shield for you," I say through tightly clenched teeth, interlocking my hands to avoid the temptation. "Your satisfaction is mine, my friend."

Giving a curt nod, he effortlessly flinging his overstuffed bomb bag over his shoulder, stooping a little under the weight. "Later!" he waves, bounding for the door.

"Flock you! Have a nice day!" I call after him happily.

He screeches to a halt and turns around sharply. "What was that?" he asks, taking a threatening step toward me.

My heart nearly stops beating as I realize what it was that just slipped out of my mouth.

"Th-thank you!" I stammer. "I said thank you!"

He glares at me for what must be the most terrifying moment since my mother bailed me out of jail. I inch backward, wincing silently.

His expression relaxes back into his usual dumb grin. "Oh! That's a relief," he laughs, bashfully rubbing the back of his thick neck. "I thought maybe you said…you know," he shrugs. "Somethin' else."

"Ahaha, nope! Your ears must be playing tricks on you, my friend. Too many bomb explosions at close range will do that to you. Do take care to protect your ears!" I rattle off nervously. I wave him on, wanting nothing more than for him to leave. He's not leaving. Why isn't he leaving? I swallow. "Um...but while we're on the topic, do keep a watchful eye out for those guays while you're out and about. That's a very nasty business. Eheheh. Oh no, I wouldn't wish that upon my worst enemy!" Do you not see me waving at you?! That's your cue to get out of here. Your send off. Run along! Scram! "Thank you for your generous purchase, friend, and good luck with your rescue mission!"

He lingers there stupidly for a couple more seconds before getting determined look on his face. "Thanks. But I won't need it," he smirks, adjusting the sack on his shoulder. With an unnecessary fist pump, he turns and charges out of the Bazaar. The second he's gone, I stumble into the back room and press a hand to my forehead, simultaneously relieved and mortified at myself. I can't believe I made such an awful slip of the tongue while on the job! Ugh, that guy could have flattened me! That has to be the foulest insult you could possibly dish out, the equivalent of telling somebody to go get pelted with thousands of bird droppings. Ugh. My chest knots with dread at the thought of how that could have ended. These things are supposed to stay in my head, darn it. I'm really starting to lose it. I need to pull myself together.

I take a calming breath. He believed me. He thought it was his mistake. I didn't get beaten to a pulp today. Now, I better get back out there. I have more customers to harass. Putting the incident behind me and resolving to keep my tongue in check from here on out, I walk back to my post at the front of the shop. Just then, an anomaly on the front counter catches my eye. It's an iron shield, the one the oaf just bought from me. He forgot it. I can't help but snort in amusement. Wow. What an idiot.

Well, I'm sure not going to running after him. He can come back and get it.

"Hey, is that an iron shield?"

I turn to my left to see the green knight I was spying on earlier. The one who was flirting with Peatrice, I recall with a twinge of annoyance.

"I've been meaning to get one of these," he says, walking up to the counter to take a closer look at the shield Ginger so carelessly left behind. I briefly consider trying to sell him a sacred shield, but decide against it. How could I forget, it's not manly enough. He seems like he really wants this one. I'm going with it.

"Yes indeed, that is an iron shield! You have a keen memory, my friend. Might I remind you that it's quite a step up from a wooden shield, and it can be yours for 110 rupees!" I smile at him, expecting him to ask me to haggle for a lower price, or at the very least to pull a long face. But alas, the dopey little smile endures.

"Fine by me," he shrugs coolly. "I have so much money I don't know what to do with it."

Typical knight; not even a month in that uniform and already shoving his wealth in everyone's faces. I pipe up, "So I take it that's a yes?"

"Yep!" He nods.

Ahaha. Sucker. "Excellent. Let's just take care of that sweet, sweet payment and you'll be all set!"

He purchases the forgotten shield for my inflated price. I chuckle giddily on the inside; there's nothing more satisfying than taking advantage of a rookie knight who isn't aware of my typical prices yet. I have to make up the difference from all these discounts I've been giving out somehow. I send him off with a "take care now, friend! Thank you for your loyal and continued patronage!" and count my money one more time to make sure this is real life. Yes, exactly 320 rupees. And on top of that, I sold one iron shield for the price of two! I guess this is turning out to be a pretty good day for business after all. Unless that oaf returns for his shield. Then I'll have to give him another one. But if he doesn't come back...more money for me.

My celebration is cut short when I remember what I'm supposed to be doing with my money. Oh, right. It's not really my money, is it? I frown, glancing toward the bank. As much as I don't want to, I really should put at least a portion of these rupees into my mother's account. It's been quite a few days since I deposited anything.

After stalling for a little bit, I decide to suck it up and do it. I go on lunch break and head over to the Item Check, rupees in hand.

"Hello there, Peatrice!" I greet the bank teller with a jolly smile, which she does not return.

"Hey."

"I'd like to deposit some money. Just one hundred rupees this time."

In silence, Peatrice grabs a blank deposit form and begins filling it out. I fidget nervously, watching the tip of her quill as she scrawls on the paper. When she's nearly done, I realize there's a mistake.

I raise a finger. "Ah...that would be in my mother's account," I correct her hesitantly.

She stops writing and gives me a bleak sidelong glance. "Well, you have to tell me that from the beginning," she sighs, not bothering to hide her annoyance. "I'm not a mind reader."

I offer her a tight-lipped smile. "Sorry."

Without acknowledging my apology, she crumples up the useless deposit slip, tosses it in the trash, and reaches for a new one. I look down, shuffling my feet. I always feel a little bit guilty when I cross over to the other side and become an annoying customer.

"All right. Hand them over," she says when she's finished filling out the paperwork. I hate this part so much. Peatrice holds out her palm and I reluctantly place the 100 rupees in it, accidentally brushing hands with her. I stiffen at her touch. Why must I be so uptight? Sure, it's 100 rupees, but it's not like I haven't done this before.

Once my hard-earned money is shut away in my mother's vault, never to be seen again, Peatrice returns to the front desk and bends over it to write me a receipt. I try to keep my eyes on the table to dispel some of the awkwardness hanging in the air, but find them wandering up to her face. I never really thought about it before, but she's not bad on the eyes...not bad at all. From a distance, I always thought her to be rather plain. Certainly not bad-looking, just not very standout. But now up close, I find myself appreciating her features. Thick, dark eyebrows, sharp nose, full lips. Dare I say the beauty spot by her nose is rather cute.

Suddenly, she glances up, causing me to jump. She narrows her eyes accusingly.

"What are you looking at?"

A miniature spasm shoots up my spine. "Nothing!" I blurt out, too quickly. "I was just thinking you're really good at storing items."

Her eyebrows go up in suspicion. I'm not so sure she's convinced. "Um...thanks? I guess," she says.

"Yep! Doing a great job back here," I compliment her swiftly, grinning.

She hands me my receipt. Her mouth draws into a thin line, and for a moment I think she's going to return my smile. But then she just looks more like she's going to be sick.

"...You can go now."

"Ah! Yes. I was just getting to that." Ugh, I just stared at her way too long again. "Bye now!" I wave.

"Bye," she says flatly, flopping down in her chair. She averts her gaze to her desk, suddenly becoming very interested in her nails. I take a step backward. Another step. Then I spin on my heel and quickly walk back to my shop. Well, that was slightly painful. I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding in. No matter. I better get back to work.

I snatch up my polishing cloth and wipe the sacred shield on display for what must be the fourth or fifth time today, cleansing it of that ginger oaf's greasy finger prints. I really to step up my game with this thing. I didn't even get around to revealing the price the first time! I toss the rag away in frustration and look around for more potential customers, but there are no knights in sight. Where are all those losers? One minute they're all in here, and now nothing. I glance at the Potion Shop, but it looks like Manhands isn't getting any more customers either. This little competition fizzled out way too fast for my liking.

I shift restlessly, tapping my foot. It occurs to me that I forgot to eat again, but a combination of laziness and stubbornness keeps me right where I am, fervently waiting for another customer. Before long, I reach a state of boredom where I actually become mildly interested in what other people are up to. I allow my eyes to rove around the Bazaar absentmindedly, until they find Peatrice. Peatrice. I wonder what she's doing.

I move up to catch a better glimpse of her. Such an unfortunate angle. I practically have to lean halfway over the counter to see around this wall between our stalls. Ah yes, there she is - sitting there with nothing to do as per the norm. She really is quite pretty. I mean, she looks like she takes good care of herself, anyway. Thick blonde hair, rosy lips. Healthy complexion. I wonder how much of that is makeup and how much is rea—curses!

I duck behind the wall and slam myself against it. She saw me. She saw me. My stomach wrenches as the reality sets in. Oh, no. Now she's going to think I'm a total creep! What was I thinking, peeking around the wall at her like that? Idiot! I wasn't being discrete at all! I cringe outwardly picturing what she must have seen. Oh, I should have known this would happen...

My heart pounds relentlessly. What is wrong with me? What is this feeling? ...No. No way. It can't be. I...I do like her. If I didn't like her, I wouldn't care nearly this much that she caught me staring at her. Oh, no! This is terrible. I don't want to get caught up in that futile cycle again. There's no point in pursuing women. There's nothing to gain from it. Nothing but rejection.

That's what I try to tell myself, anyway. But I never seem to listen to my own advice. I exhale heavily, clutching my head in my hands. Why does it have to be her of all people? Her father freaks me out. That fat lug. This is all his fault! If he hadn't purposely pointed her out and talked her up like she's some kind of man magnet, this never would have happened and I would still be going about my business like normal. He may as well have paraded in here waving a flag and screaming, "date my daughter!" I just hope I don't wake up to find one of those custom-made arrows I sold him embedded in my chest.

I remind myself to calm down. That was a joke. Probably. And besides, whose to say she'll even mention this to her father? Or that she suspects anything of that nature at all? Looking back, maybe it wasn't as bad as I thought. I replay the scenario in my mind. It kind of just happened. First thing I knew, she was gazing off toward Sparrot's tent, then a second too late...I realized her eyes were looking straight back at me.

My face heats up at the recent memory. Ugh, No! She might have a ho-hum way about her, but she really doesn't miss a thing. She probably suspects something. But she still has no proof! For all she knows, I was just staring at that blue lamp above her head. Yes! Because it's a really nice light. I need to get me one of those to spruce up the shop. Yes yes, that's a good excuse. If she accuses me of anything, I'll be ready with that.

I breath a little easier, satisfied with the solution I've arrived at. Once again, I'm stressed and sleep-deprived and I'm getting worked up over something trivial. Everything will be just fine so long as I lay low and tread carefully to avoid making any more slip ups. No more accidental cursing. No more peeping at Peatrice. I'll just keep calm, smile, and get on with my life.

Keeping my back to the Item Check, I try to put the awful events of the day out of my mind and channel my leftover nervous energy into being a good salesman. But I seem to have lost my edge. I make a few dinky sales here and there, but nothing noteworthy. Anytime my thoughts stray to Peatrice again, I push them away and try to forget about what happened. But with each passing hour, she slowly sneaks back to the forefront of my mind. Because I know what's coming. Every day when it's almost closing time, she walks past my shop when she heads home for the night. The knot in my chest tightens.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see her move up from her seat and begin closing down her stall, about ten minutes before the rest of us usually start packing up. I get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach—blessed butterflies. I distract myself by grabbing the broom and sweeping up some of the dirt various dolts tracked in here over the course of the day, debating whether it would be more or less awkward to say something to her. I could just pretend not to see her as she passes by. Or go back in the storeroom and hide in there until she's gone. Then again, casually bidding her good night would be the more natural thing to do. That's what I would do if nothing had happened earlier; I've done it almost every single day without a thought. It would almost be more weird if I didn't. Like I'm admitting my guilt! She switches off the light and exits her stall, walking toward me. My heart rate picks up as my mind races to make a last ditch decision. Okay. I'm doing it.

"G-good night Peatrice," I stutter pathetically. Gods.

For the first time ever, she stops in the middle of the Bazaar and turns to look at me. She arches an eyebrow, placing a hand on her hip.

"Are you hitting on me?"

The broom slips out of my grasp and clatters to the floor. "H-hitting on you?!" I repeat back, appalled that she would be so blunt. "H...how uncouth! Why would you jump to such a conclusion?!" I exclaim in mock surprise, but I can feel my face burning red, betraying me. "Honestly, why would you just assume that? I never—"

"Yeah, right. I saw you over there, checking me out," she glares icily. "Don't make a habit of it, OK?"

I open my mouth to argue, but find myself tongue tied. Blanking on whatever excuse I was planning to use, I just barely manage to nod.

"Glad we got that straightened out," she exhales, sweeping her bangs to the side. A wry little smirk tugs at the corners of her red lips.

"Have a good night."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

A/N: If you weren't sick of the bird idioms yet...you probably are now. I know, it's so cheesy, I'm sorry! Please put the machine guns down.

P.S. Next time you play Skyward Sword, go stand near Peatrice and take a peek over at Rupin's shop. It's priceless. Thanks to that, I've kind of settled on the name "Peapin" for this (one-sided?) pairing, because you know...peepin'. Plus it's another bird pun. But if you think you can top that one, I'd love to hear it.