"Impressive, truly."
While it was tempting to just pretend a ghost was haunting her and pay him no mind, the skin on the back of Selphie Tilmitt's neck was bristling for an entirely different reason - rage.
"I don't know who you are, but you need to not stick a knife in it, ok?" she warned, jabbing paintbrush dipped in red paint for emphasis, "I know the last few events have been a little ho-hum, but I'm trying my best with the budget I have."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa - I think there's a T-Rexaur-sized misunderstanding here." the man explained, fiddling with his horn-rimmed glasses. "I wasn't being sarcastic at all - I think your work with the festival is really impressive. Especially when I've heard so many stories through the grapevine about your busy schedule as a SeeD and the shoestring budgets. I'm genuinely in awe since it was my dream for the Garden Festival Committee to thrive when I couldn't do it by myself when I was here."
Selphie dropped her paintbrush and didn't give a damn that her shoes now looked like she'd curb stomped someone in cold blood.
"Oh. My. God. You're THE Wimbly Donner."
The man smiled. "The one and only."
"I'm so so so sorry that I was mean. I only heard stories about you and saw your messageboard post. I didn't know what you looked like." Selphie apologized, barely sparing a second to breathe. "Do you have some time in your schedule to go talk shop? I really want to talk shop with you."
"I'd love to but I have to ask - why is there a cowboy behind you giving me a double thumbs up?"
Selphie quickly glanced back and snickered a little bit. "Oh, that's Irvy. He's probably all for the idea of us talking shop so it'll give his ears a break. He's a great helper but he doesn't have the passion like we do. I'm working on that though."
"He had his thumbs still up until your last sentence." Wimbly remarked. "I know all about that life, unfortunately. Come with me, we need to compare notes immediately."