Later in the week, my mother and I were returning to the resort from a hike around the nearest mountain. We were both about ready to collapse, but we saw things... beautiful rock formations, unique plants, vibrant flowers... that I'd probably never get to see again.
As we approached the resort, though, I was treated to one more sight I'd probably never get to see again: that of Elliott working. The sun was about to disappear under the horizon, and a chill had already made itself clear in the air, so the outdoor pool was vacated of swimmers, leaving it a quiet space for Elliott, Stardew's maestro of words, to sit at a table and write in a notebook.
And he was like a completely different person.
Normally, when I saw Elliott, he had a smile on his face, or at the very least, a wistful look in his eye that indicated he was pondering something.
This time around, though, his brow was fully furrowed. In a different context, you could safely infer something had pissed him off. The rest of his posture suggested otherwise, though; he had one arm rested fully on the table, while his face was resting on his other hand. His mouth took on a smirk of determination... perhaps with a bit of frustration mixed in.
In short, if I'd wanted to pester him, now would be the worst time to do so. I could tell the gears in his mind were turning. Hopefully, they weren't grinding together too much.