Revised 2/27/2021...

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

The Customer Is (Not) Always Right

Chapter 11: Fowl Language

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

I carefully lay my new shield down on the counter, holding it with a cloth so as not to mar its sleek surface with fingerprints. The streamlined purple 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 gold loftwing claw and a great white bird spreading its wings, it is truly a sight to behold. The artwork might be extravagant, but it's all in the presentation. Really. My shields sell because they look great, not because they have great functionality.

I decided to call my new creation the Sacred Shield. Seemed like a fitting title for a shield forged from mystical stone. Of course, if that was all it was made of, it would shatter to bits if it were merely dropped on the floor. So I spent late night after late night melting the delicate crystals together with eldin ore to create a more durable compound.

It was tedious work, finding just the right ratio of goddess plume to iron ore that would maximize the shield's repair efficiency, without sacrificing durability. And even more work and time and money procuring those blue feathers from the lost girl's loftwing. The oil from those lustrious blue feathers enhanced the shield's capabilities tenfold, though it is yet to be determined whether all my efforts will amount to a sizable profit margin. All I know at this point 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 them.

If I manage to sell three at full price, I could pay off that pesky debt with the earnings from these shields 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 graduation month at the Knight Academy. Senior Knights are always lavished with rupees and other gifts upon graduating, and the smart ones who don't want to risk being bludgeoned to death by octoroks on their first expedition put their graduation money toward new gear.

Across the aisle, Manhands is finishing up with 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 new shields in stock today, the same day she was planning to put out that potion. It wasn't hard to figure out when she was going to start selling it, because she's been blabbing about it for days.

I narrow my eyes to slits, allowing my sly smirk to break through for just a second. This is Round Two.

I sweep my gaze over the Bazaar. The place seems to be bustling with activity again, at least for the time being. But I mustn't get a false sense of security. I can count on everybody disappearing again the next time Beedle restocks some useless gadget. Looking to my left, I spot a familiar yellow-clad knight approaching from the main stretch. He's the son of that floozy who wandered in here the other day. Pipit? Yes, that's his name. I'm surprised I remembered.

As Pipit strolls this way, I can 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 and prepare to intercept him.

"Hello, Pip—"

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

The knight's 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 limited spending money with him. Free samples? How am I supposed to compete with free samples?!

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

More like free indigestion and diarrhea day. Manhands bends down and produces a tray from underneath the counter. The tray is laden with tiny vials, all filled to the brim 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 voilà! Just watch as it repairs itself in a pinch! It's amazing!"

Pipit uncorks the tiny bottle 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 sizzles when it makes contact with the wood, giving off a pinkish steam. Once the potion has completely vaporized and the steam 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 up his shield 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?"

"I'm glad you asked," says Manhands, a big-lipped smile on her face. "Normally it's 30 rupees a bottle, but since you're such a sweet boy, I'll factor in the free sample and reduce the price to 28 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 new shield!"

That wench.

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

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

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

I prick up my ears. This ought to be interesting.

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

"Well, it's not that there's anything wrong with it," Manhands wrinkles up her nose, becoming defensive. "See, drinking it was supposed to boost your immune system and help heal cuts and bruises and such, but...well, that feature is still in the works. The potion'll clean up your shield just fine, though!" She laughs. As if that's a laughing matter. "Thanks a lot, sweetie. Tell your friends!" She winks at him, rather flirtatiously I might add, and sends him on his way. I sometimes wonder how Bertie feels about that sort of behavior.

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

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

"Ah ah ah!" Manhands taunts me, wagging her finger in the air. She zips her lips. "A potioneer never gives away her secrets! Sorry, Rupin."

In other words, she might go out of business if anyone knew what actually goes into her potion making. Ignorance truly is bliss!

"Did you want a free sample, too, hon? If you don't have any banged-up shields you can try it on, you can 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 being held at knife point.

"Aww. I've been trying to turn you into my customer for years, but you just won't bite, will you?"

Ew, ew. The way she says that makes it sound like it's some kind of weird fetish of hers. 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 gives a bark of laughter and puts up her hands in a gesture of surrender. "Touché! 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 buds the next. What is her game?

I mean, I suppose I still put in a good word for Gondo occasionally, even though he irks me. But that's mostly because I've come to understand that if not for his repair service, I would have more angry customers ganging up on me 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 behind it besides 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. She is in fact, deathly sharp. She's a horrible, conniving woman.

"Potions! Get your 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: the greenhorn knight with blue eyes and dirty blond hair who was here the other day. He's currently at the Item Check, depositing some extra baggage. I've actually had my eye on this one for a while now. Being a new knight, he has good potential to become a regular customer. And when I find a new regular, I latch onto them and never let go. I keep an eye on him, reviewing my sales pitch for the Sacred Shield in my head. I'll have to act fast once he comes this way to get to him before Manhands does.

And so I wait patiently. Another minute, and another minute. Until it's been more than five minutes. What is he even doing over there?! They stopped exchanging items a while ago. I squint at them.

By the looks of it, they're exchanging words now. Greenhorn is just standing around chatting up Peatrice. And smiling. What a nuisance. Everything about Peatrice's body language is screaming not interested. Poor girl. It's painfully obvious she doesn't want to talk to him. What is wrong with him? How dense can you—

WHAM! "I NEED NEW GEAR FOR A RESCUE MISSION!"

Someone slams their hand against my counter, scaring the living devil out of me. It's that ginger oaf—a knight academy student. Normally, I would have to suppress a groan at the sight of him and his atrocious pompadour. But today, my heart skips with elation.

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

"I dunno, that's what I was gonna to ask you. Load me up, gear peddler! Zelda's waiting for me to save her!" He pounds on the counter again, to which I raise a brow. What does he think he's doing, ordering a pint at the Lumpy Pumpkin?! Well, this overgrown kid has determination, I'll give him that. 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 say, smiling and rubbing 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. His eyes light up at the sight and 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 roars, 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. Is he trying to build a lightning rod or something? I suppose it can 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 at the entrance to my shop. He moves to take it. "But wait!"

He freezes.

"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 from your own explosions?"

"Uh, well," he strokes his large chin. "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 with your pants down! Now, I don't mean to be pushy, but when I see a disaster waiting in the wings, I simply must intervene. Come this way. Quickly! There's no time to lose!"

I motion for him to come into my shop. He casts an antsy look at the door, then shrugs and trudges on in anyway. Yes. Come to me. I place a guiding hand on his shoulder, urging 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," he says.

"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 after it sustains damage!" Thereby 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 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 me right away, staring at the shield in what I can only 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." His ginger eyebrows appear to be working to reach some sort of conclusion. The skin around his nose crinkles slightly, like he has a bad aftertaste in his mouth. "Isn't purple sort of a girly color, though?"

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

"Uh huh," he says. "Plus this thing is waaaay too small for my frame. Look at this." He picks up the shiny purple shield and holds it up to his exceedingly buff torso. "See? Tiny. I'm sure it probably 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, not manly if she sees me holding that thing," He winces at the mere idea of it and sets 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 most-expensive shield in line: the iron one.

"That rectangular shield on your right is my magnificent Iron Shield, chiseled to perfection from 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 Iron Shield off the counter and proceeds to strut about the store, flexing his biceps and striking defensive poses at random. I feel embarassed for him. 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 tells me. "But you're right! This could come in handy. Especially if I have to, like, protect Zelda with one hand and sock somebody in the face with the other. How much?"

I smile my most pleasant smile. "It'll be one hundred rupees."

His brow knits together with indecision.

"But since you've already spent more than 100 rupees on bombs, I would be more than willing to sweeten the deal a bit! Just for you, for today only, I'll part with this iron shield for only 90 rupees."

And...he goes for it! I total up the combined costs of the bombs and shield at a whopping 210 rupees. As I tuck the precious jewels safely in my apron, I tell myself that this is great. That these are fantastic earnings compared to most days, when I barely manage to scrounge up 50 rupees.

But unfortunately, I've never been that good at focusing on the positive. Did he really have to go and take a dump all over my Sacred Shield?! 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 satisfied enough. "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 could rip that ugly pompadour from its roots. I smile, interlocking my hands to avoid the temptation. "Well, I'm glad you were able to find the right shield for you in the end," I say through tightly clenched teeth. "My customer's satisfaction is mine, my friend."

With a curt nod, he effortlessly flings his overstuffed bomb bag over his shoulder, barely slouching under the weight. "Later!" he waves, and bounds for the door.

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

He screeches to a halt and turns around. "What was that?" he asks. He takes a threatening step toward me, his amber eyes burning into mine.

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

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

He glares at me for what has to be one of the most terrifying moments of my existence. I inch backward, wincing.

His expression relaxes back into his usual dumb grin. "Oh! That's a relief," he laughs, 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. When all else fails, try gaslighting. I wave him on, wanting nothing more than for him to leave. But 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. Ahaha. 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! I wish you luck on your rescue mission!"

He lingers there stupidly for a couple more seconds before getting a 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, the brute 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. I can't believe I made such a horrible slip of the tongue while on the job! And 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. I dread thinking 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 my lie. He thought it was his mistake. I didn't get beaten to a pulp today. I'm okay. 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 return to my post at the front of the Gear Shop. When I do so, 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 take a closer look at the shield his Ginger classmate so carelessly left behind. I briefly consider trying to sell him a Sacred Shield, but decide against it. He seems really interested in 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 more money than I know what to do with."

Typical knight; not even a month in that uniform and already wagging 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!"

And so Greenhorn here 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!"

I 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 panning 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 this money. Oh, right. This isn't really my money, is it? I frown and glance toward the bank. As much as I don't want to, I should put at least a portion of these rupees into my mother's account. It has been quite a few days since I deposited anything.

After stalling for a little while longer, I decide to suck it up and do so. I take my lunch break and head over to the Item Check, money in hand.

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

"Hey."

"I'd like to deposit some more money. Just 100 rupees today."

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 my hand. "Ah—this is going in my mother's account, not mine," I correct her.

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

That's fair. I offer her a tight-lipped smile. "My apologies."

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 instructs 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 to write me a receipt. As she does so, I try to keep my eyes on the table in an attempt to dispel some of the awkwardness hanging in the air, but instead find my gaze 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. I never thought poorly of her; she obviously takes good care of her appearance—which I understand is a lot to ask in this society. She just never really stood out, was all.

But now that I'm close to her, I find myself appreciating her features. Thick, yet shapely eyebrows. Sharp nose. Full, rosy lips. And that tiny mole by her nose...from a year of occupying the same space as her, I've come to know she's self-conscious of it. But I tend to think it's cute.

Suddenly, she looks up, causing me to jump. She narrows her eyes at me in accusation.

"What are you looking at?"

A miniature spasm shoots through me. "Nothing!" I blurt out, too quickly. "I was just thinking you're really great at your job! You know...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 bang up 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 this time. 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 for way too long again. "Bye now!" I wave.

"Bye," she says flatly, flopping back down in her chair. She averts her gaze downward, suddenly becoming very interested in her nails. I take a step back. 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 cloth and polish my Sacred Shield for what must be the fourth or fifth time today, cleansing it of that ginger oaf's greasy finger prints. I really have to step up my game. I didn't even get around to revealing the price the first time! I toss the rag away in frustration and search around for more potential customers, but there are no knights in sight. Where are they?! One minute, they're all in here, and now nothing. I glance over at the Potion Shop, but it looks like Manhands isn't getting any more customers either. This little competition of ours fizzled out far too quickly 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. Waiting for another customer. I allow my eyes to rove around the Bazaar absentmindedly, until they rest on Peatrice. Peatrice. I wonder what she's doing?

She's not doing anything, of course. She never is. But, for some unknown reason, I feel inclined to check in on her. I move up a little bit 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, there she is. I find myself thinking she really is quite pretty. Although, cynical as I am, I also can't help but wonder how much of it is makeup and how much is rea—curses!

I dodge behind the wall and flatten 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 discreet in the least! I cringe outwardly, picturing what she must have seen. She's completely going to get the wrong idea!

My heart pounds relentlessly in my chest. Or...maybe it's the right idea.

...

Oh no. It is, isn't it? This feeling...I didn't recognize it at first. Because I haven't felt anything for anyone in so long, aside from the occasional, nonsensical lust.

But this isn't that. This isn't the same. This is different.

I...I do fancy her. It's true. It's the only possible explanation for why I am suddenly giving so much weight to what she thinks of me in our daily interactions, why I'm simping for her when she's not even a customer! This is the worst. The absolute worst. I don't want to get caught up in this futile cycle again. There is no point in pursuing a woman. There's nothing to gain from it. Nothing but disappointment and rejection.

Sigh. That's what I try to tell myself, anyway. But I never seem to listen to my own advice when it actually matters. I clutch my head in my hands. Why does it have to be her of all people? Her father freaks me the hell out. That fat lug. This is all his fault! If he hadn't pointed her out to me and talked her up like she's some kind of man magnet, I would still be minding my business like normal. He may as well have paraded in here waving a giant flag that said, 'date my daughter!' Because I'm contrary that way! I just hope I don't wake up to find one of those arrows I sold him embedded in my chest.

I remind myself to calm down, that he was joking. Probably. And besides, whose to say she'll even mention this little incident to her father? Looking back, maybe it wasn't as bad as I thought it was. I replay the scenario in my mind. Yes, it was a non-event. I'm the one who is making a mountain out of a molehill here, whose perception is skewed because it turns out I have feelings for her. All that happened from her point of view was: she was zoning out as usual, when she shifted positions and accidentally locked eyes with me. Because...because I was staring at her...

My face burns at the recent memory. Ugh, no! It was as bad as I thought. She might have a ho-hum way about her, but she doesn't miss a thing. She's on to me for sure now.

But she still has no proof! Because she can't read my thoughts! For all she knows, I was just looking at that blue light hanging above her head. Yes! Because it's a really nice light. I need to get me one of those to spruce up the Gear Shop. Yes, yes, that's a good excuse. If she accuses me of anything, I'll be ready with that.

I breathe 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 relatively trivial. Everything will be just fine so long as I don't make any more slip ups. No more accidental cursing. No more peeping at Peatrice. I will keep calm, smile, and get on with my life.

Keeping my back to the Item Check, I resolve to channel all my nervous energy into my salesmanship. 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 creeps back to the forefront of my mind. Because I know what's coming. Every day when it's almost closing time, she walks by my shop when she heads home for the night. The knot in my chest tightens.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice her get 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 try to 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 I could go into the storeroom and hide in there until she's gone.

Then again, casually bidding her good night would be the most natural thing to do. That's what I would do any old day, without a thought. It would almost be weirder if I didn't do it. Like I'm admitting my guilt!

Peatrice switches off the light above her and abandons her stall, walking in my direction. My heart rate picks up as my mind races to make a last minute decision. Okay. I'm just going to say it. Use her name this time, stupid...

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

Then, for the first time ever, she stops in the middle of the hall and turns to look at me. She arches one eyebrow, resting a hand on her hip.

"Are you hitting on me?"

The broom slips out of my grasp and clatters to the floor. I knew she must suspect me, but I truly didn't expect her to be so blunt.

"H-hitting on you?!" I repeat back in mock surprise, but I can feel my face burning red, betraying me. "Why would you jump to that conclusion?! I say good night to you as you leave every day. Every day—and there's absolutely nothing behind it! You only just noticed me now? Now that you think I'm—"

"Uh huh. Right. I saw you checking me out earlier. Way to be subtle." She fixes me in an icy glare. It's actually attractive. NO—stop it, Rupin! "Don't make a habit of it, OK?"

I open my mouth to argue again, but find myself tongue tied. OK. She caught me. If I try to make whatever excuse I was going to make, I'm only going to make myself look like more of a fool at this point.

"Glad we got that straightened out," she says without waiting for an answer, 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.

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.