...

"Your friends...what kind of people are they?

I wonder...do these people...

think of you as a friend?"

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

The Customer Is (Not) Always Right

Chapter 15: A Night at the Lumpy Pumpkin

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

The Lumpy Pumpkin. I would go there more often if I had more free time during the day. Or if going at night didn't mean getting marooned there until the crack of dawn. Usually, I've had my fill of the place by midnight. The pumpkin juice starts to make my eyelids droop. I find myself growing sick of people's company and yearning for my warm bed. I'm not all that fond of falling asleep under a table and waking up with someone's muddy boots in my face.

Most of the time, I'm better off drinking at home. The only times I go are when I'm so tired of Skyloft that I desperately need a night away. And tonight is one of those nights.

I let out an exhausted sigh and fold my arms behind my back, gazing out at the view of the Light Tower from the Bazaar's main entrance. This ordeal with Peatrice has left me frustrated and thoroughly stumped. Today, it occurred to me that I've been going about things the wrong way all along. Women don't like when men are nice to them, I realized, they like it when we snub them. Like how she snubs me. So that's what I did when she left today. I just ignored her.

Didn't work.

I drive myself crazy trying to catch her attention and interpret her actions. It's draining. I just don't know what to do to get her to like me. It's as though I've lost my momentum and come to a standstill. I hate not having a plan of attack, if I can call it that, and seeing the same old surroundings just clouds my mind even further. I need to get away and do something out of my ordinary routine to get my mind off her for a while.

Of course, if Gondo doesn't get his ugly mug out here soon, we won't be able go at all. The night guard is very anal about flying curfews. I turn toward the doorway and look for him again, groaning. I've been standing out here for twenty minutes. What is taking him so long?! He's always lagging behind everyone else, even Bertie. We all have an unspoken agreement that the last person out gets stuck with the chore of closing up the Bazaar, so all the normal people rush out of there first chance we get. But no siree, not Gondo.

I guess he gets busy and distracted and likes to finish up his work before heading home, but now this is just getting ridiculous. He'd better show up before the sun starts going down or I'm leaving without him. I have my heart set on going to the Lumpy Pumpkin whether he accompanies me or not.

"Hey!"

At that moment, Gondo walks out of the Bazaar.

"Sorry I'm late. I had some business to take care of," he says, draping the tapestry over the entrance. He turns to face me, bringing a hand up to adjust his mask. "Someone made a huge mess in the aisle, so naturally I got stuck cleaning it up. What a pain." He gives me an odd look. "You okay?"

I realize I've been quiet the entire time he's been talking to me. "Yes," I say, narrowing my eyes. "Why?"

"I don't know. You look like you're gonna be sick for something." He crosses his arms, peering at me with unseen eyes. "I think I know what's got you down..."

My heart thuds against my chest. "You do?" He knows about Peatrice? No way.

"Yeah!" he says. "You're still beating yourself up over Sparrot, aren't you?"

"I—" Actually, I had almost completely forgotten about that. I don't correct him. "...Yes. That's it."

"I knew it! I have great intuition. Maybe I should open my own fortunetelling business." Gondo chuckles at himself. "You didn't even get a chance to apologize, did you? Here's an idea...let's go to his house right now! You can say sorry and I can repair his crystal ball for him."

I balk at him. "Gondo. That's…" a terrible idea. "A great idea!" I plaster on a smile. "You really think you can put it back together?"

"Sure. There's nothing a little glue and elbow grease can't fix." He grins, puffing out his chest. Well, he seems confident enough. "C'mon. We still have some time before sunset."

He walks off before I can try to get out of it, motioning for me to follow him. I sigh and trail after him, dragging my feet. How on Earth did I get guilt-tripped into this?

On the way over, Gondo starts ranting about his mother. I imagine his unparalleled ability to block everything out came about from his mother nagging him, which in turn caused him to retreat further into his mind so he could concentrate. Which caused her to nag him even more. But from the sound of it, they seem to have a pretty good relationship even if they're bickering all the time. I suppose bickering is better than nothing.

"I don't know why she has to do laundry all the time," he says. "I keep telling her that if she leaves my clothes alone, I'll wash them eventually, but she won't hear any of it. She just does my laundry on her own without me even asking her to. And then she complains about it! I feel bad and all, but if she's doing it, there's no reason for me to do it, you know?"

"Mm hmm."

"I would be happy to do my own laundry, I just don't want to be washing clothes constantly. That's not my style. If it were left up to me, I'd let it pile up and do it all at once when I needed to. Like when I run out of underwear."

I just stare at him, at a loss for words.

"What?"

"Nothing." I slow to a stop, noticing we're by the same hill we were at five minutes ago. We've been wandering around in a circles. "Gondo, where are we going?" I ask him. "Where is Sparrot's House?"

"It should be back here somewhere..." he says, looking around. He itches the back of his neck. "Actually I've been following you for a while now."

"I don't know where he lives!" I snap, balling my fists. "I thought you said you knew."

"Not exactly. I see him walk by my place on his way home sometimes, but I've never actually been to his house. I figured we'd find it if we just walked up and down this side of the island for a little while." He shrugs. "It's not like there are many places to hide a house."

I grumble, "well it's going to be dark soon, so maybe we should just forget it—"

"Wait! Look at this."

I turn in the direction he's pointing, seeing nothing but the grassy hill we passed three times. Squinting, I move in front of his line of sight and an opening comes into view, hidden from certain angles. It's a man-made passage; it slopes down into the hill, its rocky walls supported by bricks and wooden planks. This has to be it.

"C'mon!" Gondo shouts, jogging into the tunnel. I let out a begrudging moan and run in after him. Why is he so gung-ho about going over there? It makes me feel pressured, like I should be more enthusiastic. But I don't have the energy reserves for that at this time of day. Ugh.

The tunnel lets out along the edge of a cliff, the open sky stretching out on the left. Up ahead, the late afternoon sun casts a shadow on the front of a cottage, built directly into the rock. It's hidden away in an alcove beneath the hill, on the very edge of Skyloft. Wow. I've always had the guy pinned as a recluse, but this is awfully daring of him. A little erosion or an earthquake and...bye bye Sparrot.

Gondo turns to me, a hopeful smile on his face. "Shall we?"

"Yeah..." I say reluctantly.

Just then, an angry shriek from above startles us both. I snap my head up and find myself staring into the upside-down face of a loftwing, peering down at us over the lip of the hill. Its purple feathers ripple in the sun, appearing blue in places. The plumage on its head is styled into a familiar top knot. I could venture a guess as to why it's here. It's not unusual for loftwings to hang close to their riders during periods of depression or emotional distress. Our emotions are linked, so they can always tell. For instance, right now, I'm nervous. More so than I thought I would be. Wingy has acknowledged this, but she doesn't care.

After sharing a nervous look with Gondo, I take a careful step forward and lead the way to the house. At least if I pay Sparrot back, I can consider us on even ground again. I hate being indebted to people. Keeping a wary eye on his purple bird, I slip the rest of the way up to the door. It watches me, but doesn't move. I knock twice.

"Sparrot?"

No answer.

"Sparrot? It's Rupin. I'm out here with Gondo," I say in a gentle voice, eyeing his loftwing. "May we come in?"

There's a muffled response from the other side of the door. I can't make out any words.

"Um…all right. We're coming in now," I reply awkwardly. I try the door. To my surprise, it's unlocked.

When I step inside, my nose is assaulted with an unpleasantly strong odor that smells of roses and cinnamon. The inside of Sparrot's house looks much like I'd expect, decked out in psychadelic yellows and purples and hung with dim orange lamps. Strange talismans made of feathers and stained glass dangle all around the room, on the inside of the door and above his bed. A large shelf full of thick books and tasselly pillows lines the back wall, and a few dying embers spark in the fireplace.

On the far side of the room, Sparrot sits on the floor at a low table, looking sullen. His eyes are puffy and half-closed, nowhere near as bright and shiny as they used to be. A few loose strands of hair hang in his face, snaking down his forehead in greasy little trails. Goodness. How long has he been sitting in that spot, wallowing in self-pity?

Gondo and I linger by the door, still not quite feeling welcome, but Sparrot doesn't acknowledge us. He just sits there with a distant stare on his face, his eyes as dull as the fractured crystal ball in front of him. It lays in grayish fragments in the middle of the table, devoid of its previous luminosity. We move toward Sparrot one step at a time, like one might approach a sleeping remlit. His gaze briefly passes over us as we mosey up to the table.

"Ah. So it is you," he says in a hollow voice, staring at an invisible spot on the far wall. "Have you come to apologize for single-handedly ruining me?"

I cringe inwardly. There is no contempt in his words, just a somber resignation that almost makes me prefer he had yelled at me. "Sparrot. I am deeply sorry about your crystal ball," I tell him in the most sincere tone I can muster. "It was a regrettable accident." I try to emote and inject some remorse into my words, but they sound as empty and contrived to me as they do when I regurgitate something similar to a disgruntled customer.

A prolonged silence. "Thank you," Sparrot murmurs. "But I don't accept."

I just blink at him. "...What?"

"I don't accept."

My features harden. What was even the point of coming out here then?!

"Heeey, Sparrot!" Gondo pounds my shoulder and steps forward. "He might not look it, but Rupin's really sorry. Believe me, I saw him. He feels really bad. He said he won't be able to sleep at night until things are put right."

Ugh, don't make me throw up.

"—And that's why he had me tag along! So I could repair your crystal ball."

I glance at Gondo in surprise. "Yes. That's exactly what I brought him here for." I smile assuredly, turning back to Sparrot. So it's my idea now, eh? Heh. Gondo's not such a bad guy. He just...needs to buy some new pants. No one wants to see his business coming around the corner.

"My grandpa was the one who gave you this, right?" Gondo says, sitting down across from Sparrot. "So it only makes sense that I should be the one to fix it!"

Sparrot just gives an idle nod. I don't think I've ever seen anyone look so tortured.

Gondo slides the broken crystal ball to himself and sets to work. Sparrot watches quietly as he lays a bottle of glue and some other tools on the table. He begins fitting the crystal shards together, working efficiently and with great care. I hover off Sparrot's right shoulder, thankful his attention is occupied with on something other than me at the moment.

As Gondo is gluing on the last pieces, Sparrot seems to blink back to life a little, and I think I see a glimmer of his former self. He sits forward, watching Gondo work with a restrained interest. When it gets to be too much for him, the squat man rises up and moves around to Gondo's side of the table. He's not much taller standing than he is sitting, his yellow robes trailing across the carpet. His eyes widen with childish curiosity as they take in the sight of the restored crystal ball.

"There! Good as new! Well, maybe not, but it's as close as it's going to get." Gondo brushes off his hands and rises to his feet. He managed to put the crystal ball back into one smooth piece, but there are still thin cracks visible where it was broken. "Go ahead, give it a spin," he says, moving out of the way.

Sparrot steps up to the crystal ball and stretches his hand toward it hesitantly, like a swordsman who hasn't picked up his blade in a very long time. The tip of his finger makes contact with the ball.

"That adhesive is the best around," Gondo boasts, gesticulating broadly. "You won't find anything like it anywhere else—"

Gondo's hand whacks into the ball and knocks it off the table. It smashes into the floor and splits open again. Sparrot lets out a miserable, strangled cry. Gondo and I exchange a wince.

"...There's always the Sparrot cards," I suggest with a cautious smile.

Sparrot shoots me a look so cold it could freeze fire.

Gondo drops to one knee so he's eye-level with Sparrot, gripping his shoulders. "Look here, little buddy, we're going to pull through this," he asserts. "Listen to me...not just anybody can look at a shiny rock and see visions of the future. So the power has to come from within you! Not that musty old crystal ball. It has to be you!"

How does he always know exactly what to say? No, not what. How. I could say the same thing and it would still sound manufactured. There's a genuine warmth there, something I could never hope to exude.

"You can find another way. I know you can!" Gondo says with conviction. "You just need to look deep inside yourself and harness your inner power."

Sparrot's eyes go wide. "You—!" For a moment, he looks completely enchanted by Gondo's pep talk, but he quickly snaps out of it. He reverts to a withering glare, his pale eyes narrowing to slits. "You two...you know nothing of the supernatural," he says bitterly. "The truth remains that without a crystal ball for these exquisite, all-seeing eyes to gaze into, I am as blind as the both of you. Without my crystal ball, I am nothing."

His voice breaks off, tears welling up in his enormous eyes. Suddenly, I feel something I thought I no longer had the capacity for—a stab of pity for the sad, pathetic little man in front of me. I bite the inside of my cheek. I'm not going to like it, but this is the only way I know how to apologize.

"Sparrot," I speak up tentatively. "Perhaps I can offer you some sort of compensation for your loss—"

"I don't want your dirty money!"

Well that's a relief.

"Aw, c'mon, Sparrot," Gondo pleads with him. "He said he wants to pay you back! He doesn't care about a couple rupees."

"Gondo," I caution him.

"At least let him buy you a drink! Want to go to the Lumpy Pumpkin with us?"

"Gondo!" I grab his arm and yank him aside, so our backs are to Sparrot. "Did you hear that? He said he doesn't want my dirty money..." I whisper, gritting my teeth. "I think we should go." Before he changes his mind.

Gondo nods, the corners of his mouth pulling down into a frown. "All right," he agrees. He turns to the fortuneteller. "We're going to head out now, OK Sparrot?" he says quietly. "I'm sorry we couldn't help."

Sparrot heaves a lengthy, dramatic sigh. "No. There's no need for an apology. It is not your fault, Gondo." He faces away from us, drawing another quavery breath. "Go on. Go now, and leave me to my despair."

I almost mumble a "bye," but think better of it, deciding it would be best to keep my mouth shut at this point. Gondo drifts toward the door, giving me an out. Without another glance in Sparrot's direction, I follow him outside and gently click the door shut behind me. We walk away from the house in silence, only stopping once we've made it back through the tunnel. A whistling wind follows us out through the cave, picking up and dying back down again.

"Well. That wasn't the Sparrot I remember." I grimace at the sound of my voice breaking the quiet. I fold my arms, fidgeting with my sleeve. "That was like..."

"Some sort of weird creature that lives in Sparrot's house."

"...Yeah. Something like that."

For a long while, we just stand there not looking at each other, waiting for the other to make the suggestion that must be on both of our minds. Gondo cracks first.

"Want to go to the Lumpy Pumpkin now?"

"Yes please."

-:-:-:-:-

Pumpkin Landing emerges from the cloud cover in a matter of minutes. Wingy seems to be in a good mood today. She coasts on a light breeze, flying several lengths behind Gondo's brown loftwing. Wingy has grown somewhat accustomed to his bird thanks to a wasted year of Knight Academy training, but she still likes to fly in back and keep him in sight. She was always anxious flying lead because she thought the other birds were going to bite her if she couldn't see them. Probably because that's what she does.

Neither of us use a sail cloth, so Gondo and I dismount our loftwings from the ground. Before I take a single step, something tugs off my hat and flings it across the lawn. Wingy takes off before I can reprimand her, beating back a blast of wind in my face.

"Very graceful, Wingy," I say, picking up my hat and putting it back on my head. I think I like her better when she's in a bad mood.

I catch up to Gondo and we head inside the giant pumpkin. The place is packed, as expected on a weekend night. Good. When there are only a few people here, it's too quiet and I feel like everybody's eavesdropping on my conversations. I prefer to have a screen of garbled chatter to hide behind. Gondo and I surpass the tavern's many round tables for the bar. As we pick our way across the room, one voice rises over all the others, loud and clear.

"If my family could eat popularity, they'd be stuffed full all the time! I was the best of the best at everything back in the day. Fencing, flying, shooting... bedroom."

I catch sight of Peatrice's overweight father at a crowded table in the center of the room, beneath the tavern's massive chandelier. What is he doing here?! Then again, I really shouldn't be surprised. I look away and avoid staring so as not to draw any undesired attention to myself. After that close call yesterday, I'd like to avoid any run-ins with him.

Oddly enough, the bar is freed up, save for a soul occupant at the far end of the counter. The Village Idiot is slumped on the very last bar stool, rolls of fat gathered around his bare mid-section. As with the Bazaar, he is always at the bar every time I come here, and he's still here when I leave. My goodness. Does this guy ever go home?

As soon as Gondo and I sit down, the Lumpy Pumpkin's gruff owner, Pumm, comes over to take our orders. For some reason when I picture a serial killer, Pumm is the image that comes to mind. I don't know if it's that bushy red mustache, those sunken little eyes, or his stern gaze, but something about him always made me feel like he might murder me if I ended up alone in here with him. He's just plain scary looking. He looks nothing like his dark-haired, doe-eyed waitress-daughter Kina, who is remarkably appealing to look at. Sometimes I wonder if she's adopted.

Still, despite his frightening appearance, Pumm is a good bartender. The guy's all business and no talk. He's not nosy. He doesn't try to make awkward conversation with his customers...like I do with my customers during the day. Gods. If I was my customer I would hate myself.

Pumm serves us our drinks in no time at all, setting a pint of the deep orange liquid in front of each of us. For a while, Gondo and I just guzzle pumpkin juice in a rumitative silence, lost in our own thoughts. Quietly recuperating from the week. There's something to be said for having a drinking buddy. For one, you don't feel like as much of a loser. For another...actually, no. That's the only reason. I bring my pumpkin juice to my lips again. Soon, my mug is empty and I order another.

As I'm beginning to unwind, I find myself listening in on Peatrice's father, not because I'm remotely curious about his life, but because his voice is near-impossible to ignore. It seems no matter what he's talking about, he always manages to bring the conversation back to Peatrice. He just won't quit bragging about her. He loves her a lot, I realize. His wife is gone. She's all he has and he'll never give her up. And what do I have to offer? Nothing, really. I'm in debt. My job sucks. I'm still living with my mother. I should be able to stand on my own two feet by now.

I exhale. No. I can't think about that now. I came here to forget about that for a while, not to throw myself a pity party. I'll figure out what to do about that later. I glance to my left, at Gondo. If he's going to be here, I might as well talk to him.

"Gondo. Why do you wear that safety mask all the time?" I ask. I lean my head on my hand, letting my eyes droop. "We're at the bar. Relax."

"I don't know. I guess it's fun to keep everybody guessing sometimes," he says. "I can sit here with a straight face and people have no idea what I'm thinking." He laughs, a big jubilant 'ha ha ha.'

"Ah." How weird, I think, but then it occurs to me that maybe it's not that weird at all. I yawn. There's a dull pain behind my eyes when I open them again. "I have a headache," I complain aloud. I usually say that when I can't think of anything else to say. I put my arm down and look over my shoulder, squinting. "I think it's the chandelier. Is it just me or is it unusually bright today?"

"Oh yeah. That's the other reason I kept my mask on," Gondo says. "That new chandelier they installed is way too bright. The mask makes it a little easier on the eyes." He taps one of his goggles. "You should have seen the old one. Er...the old new one. It created the perfect atmosphere in here. Not too dark, not too bright. I don't use this word often, but man, that thing was dazzling. Don't know why they got rid of it."

Pumm abruptly throws down his dish rag and stomps over to the stove to check on his giant pot of soup.

Gondo looks at him in mild shock. "Was it something I said?"

I half-shrug, going for another gulp of pumpkin juice. Just then, I sense somebody standing directly behind me.

"I'll take some pumpkin soup for the road! For my little pumpkin at home," Peatrice's father shouts right beside my ear. I go rigid. I sit still and try to look casual, sipping my drink.

"Coming right up," Pumm answers from the stove, ladling out some soup. "Got yourself a sweetheart back home, did you?"

Peater looks affronted. "No! I meant my daughter! Sheesh." He tosses a couple rupees onto the counter. "You know, it's a real blessing they let me keep my license to fly at night despite being an old retired vet. I guess there are perks to being popular. I can still come here after a long day of sweating and chopping bamboo and get home in time to keep my sweetpea safe and sound at night. Gotta protect my lovely little girl from lurkers!"

"You don't have to tell me," says Pumm, trudging over to hand him his soup.

"All right! You two boys have a good night!" Peater gives Gondo and I a friendly, albeit hard slap on the back before grabbing his soup and swaggering off. I grip the edges of the bar stool and steady myself to keep from falling on the floor. Ouch. But I guess I should he relieved he didn't try to talk to me.

"So Rupin." Gondo stoops over and plants his elbows on the counter, taking a long drink before firmly setting his mug back down. "You're going to help me catch that no-good vandal, right?"

I purse my lips. Can we please talk about something else? "Of course! I'll keep an eye out for them," I say. Sometimes I feel like the whole world is on my case.

"You get any new leads?" he mumbles, staring straight ahead.

I shake my head. "Nothing different than what I told you yesterday. Like I said, I suspect the kitchen workers," I say without pause. "You know Piper, the quiet one? Don't be fooled. She is a raging. Harpy. Wait until I tell you what happened with her. And then there's Starlet, that chain-smoking back-alley bimbo. That woman flat-out refuses to wear a hairnet. In her profession, that's a crime all in itself. I skip eating when she's cooking."

Gondo chokes on his pumpkin juice. Half laughing, half coughing, he covers mouths and nose and wheezes, "chain-smoking back-alley bimbo?"

"You know it's true."

Gondo strikes his chest, his coughing fit subsiding. From there, we launch into a venting session, exchanging our stupid customer stories from the past month. I relay the incident with Piper and Gully. He tells me about some knight who demanded his money back in full for a shield repair, all because he "didn't ask for it to be polished and the shiny coating hurt his eyes." Somehow I feel validated, knowing I'm not the only one who has to put up with imbeciles on a daily basis.

"I think that a lot of them know they're being unreasonable," I tell Gondo, wrinkling my nose in distaste, "but they also know that if they complain enough they'll most likely get something free or discounted."

"So they're not really stupid saps. They're just cheap saps."

"Pretty much." I sigh. "I just wish we didn't need them. It makes it difficult to figure out where to draw the line in those situations."

"Yeah. That does make things tough." Gondo nods in agreement. "I'll tell you what works for me—"

"Well, well. Look who we have here. Good evening, Gondo," interrupts a hoarse, gravelly voice. I already know who it is without having to turn around. Oh, drop dead already.

Gondo swivels his head around. "Heeeey!" He throws his arms up in excitement, but the drop off in his tone suggests otherwise. "What are you doing here, old man?"

"The same thing as you, I reckon." Croo sits himself down on the bar stool on the other side of Gondo. "Two pumpkin juices, Pumm. One for me and one for the big guy here. Unless your buddy wants one too." He says the word buddy with the littlest strain that lets me know he hasn't forgotten how I rebuffed him. He props his elbows on the counter and leans forward, peering across Gondo at me. "Offer still stands."

I smile at him. "No thanks. I'm trying to lose weight."

Croo's eyebrows go up a little, but he doesn't comment. "Okay, then. Just two, Pumm."

I look straight ahead and take a large swig from my half-finished mug. Like I want to salvage that parasitical relationship. I know very well that letting him buy me a drink guarantees he'll find another excuse to talk to me again, only next time he'll expect me to pay for his drink. It's a lose-lose situation. And who thinks they're so entitled to butt in on other peoples' private conversations for no good reason? Rude. Next time, he'd better be having a heart attack or choking. Or I'LL choke him.

"So Gondo," Croo croaks, lifting his mug. I let my gaze flicker to his face just in time to see a large drop of pumpkin juice slosh down his chin. Disgusting. Why do old people always eat like primates?

"You thinking of moving into your own place like old Rupin over there?" he asks.

"Sure, I've thought about it. No plans as of now, though," Gondo responds. "I may never move out. My mom's getting up in age...she needs me."

I vaguely wonder whether that's true or if it's the other way around.

"Is that so? Well, if you two ever need a vacation, you're welcome to stay at my place." Croo says. "Bought my own little private cabana island a while back. Couldn't think of a clever name, so I named it Croo Island. I'm hardly ever there, so feel free to drop by any time. The key's under the door mat." He folds his hands under his armpits and leans toward Gondo. "You know what it is that keeps calling me back to Skyloft?"

Gondo shakes his head.

"The people, Gondo. The people."

Oh, what an eye-opener. And even though there are dozens of fascinating people in this place, he has to single out the only one I can hold an intelligent discussion with for more than five minutes and monopolize his time. Thanks, Croo. Thanks.

"I just can't get enough of the people," says Croo. "I spend my days at the bazaar and all my nights at the Lumpy Pumpkin, just whittling away the hours chatting. Sometimes just observing people as they come and go. Most days I don't even go home. Thankfully, the folks in town are friendly and'll let you crash anywhere there's a bed. It's an open door neighborhood, you know. No one in their right mind would turn down a weary traveler after dusk with all those remlits and blood-sucking bats flying around!" A fond expression settles over his wrinkled face. "Why, just the other night, that sweet cook from the Bazaar cafe let me bunk at her place. Starlet's her name. "

"How was that?" Gondo wonders.

"Well, let me tell you."

And so he tells him. Slowly, methodically.

"The first thing I did when I got there was lay claim to two empty drawers at the bottom of her dresser. I put my black socks in the left drawer." A drawn out pause. "And my blue socks in the right one. You know how it's so dark in the wee hours of the morning that you can't tell blue socks from black socks? Separating them from the get-go saves me a lot of time and trouble." Another pause, as if he's relishing the effect of his words sinking in. "My words of wisdom for the night. I always like to get out of my host's hair before—"

That's it. I'm leaving.

"I'm going to scope out the guest rooms," I mutter to Gondo, getting up from my seat. "Be back in a bit."

He nods, still looking at Croo. I leave and turn down the corridor to the right of the bar. I really am not going to scope out the guest rooms. I wouldn't sleep in a bed here if it held the last mattress in the sky, but I just need an excuse not to hear Croo's voice for a couple minutes. Stupid old man. What I wouldn't give to have what he has. Luxury. Solitude. A home without a fickle, overbearing mother-from-hell in it. He has everything, and yet he chooses to squander it and grovel back here looking for shallow company. It sickens me to no end.

On my way down the corridor, I pass by a door with a tacked-on sign that reads "Don't forget to wash your hands!" which I assume must be the restroom. The door is shut tight, but a yellow light glows through the crack underneath it, signaling that it's occupied. The next door down opens into a guest room that houses several bunk beds, all made with neatly creased, pumpkin-themed comforters. There's no one here. Looks like a nice spot for a breather. I cross my arms and walk into the middle of the room to gather my thoughts.

And then I hear someone mouthbreathing behind me.

I spin around with a startled intake of breath. A tall figure looms in the doorway, their silhouette backlit against the brighter hallway lights. But his bent posture and long, blue cape draped over his shoulder give him away.

"Greetings," Cue Tip says in a low, nasally voice. A weird silence passes between us as he considers me from under his curtain of bangs. "I bet you're wondering what I'm doing here."

"Not particularly," I answer with an awkward grin.

He drifts into the room, almost into my personal space, but not quite. I take a step back. Towering over me, he tilts his head down and cups a hand around his mouth.

"I'm looking for bugs," he hisses, almost seductively.

I raise an eyebrow. I have no idea how to respond to that, so I just say, "there are bugs in here?"

"Are you kidding?!" he exclaims under his breath. "There are bugs everywhere. On the ceiling. In the halls. Under the floorboards. In the walls. I just found a fruit fly in my champagne glass." He leans toward me and speaks even softer, as if everything is a secret. "This place is teeming with bugs. You just have to know where…and how…to find them." His nose twitches. "I can smell them."

His eyes rove to the bed shoved against the righthand wall, moving independently of his skinny head. "Shhh." He presses a finger to his lips. Hunching his shoulders, he creeps around me, slowly and soundlessly gliding across the room. He halts just short of the bed.

"If you ever find any rare specimens, bring them to me," he whispers. "I'll pay you well for them."

Without warning, he springs onto the bed and throws back the pumpkin comforter. "Ah-hah!"

Between the bedsheets is a gigantic spider with a swollen abdomen and long, spindly yellow-and-black striped legs. I swear and run out of the room just as Cue Tip lunges to stuff it into a jar, my insides writhing with disgust. I head back down the hall to the dining room at a brisk pace, thinking it would be just fine if I never came here again. When I'm almost out of the corridor, I hear a muffled shout from somewhere nearby.

"Can somebody help me please?!" someone yells frantically. Just then, the door right beside me swings wide open. The bathroom door, I realize a second too late. Without thinking, I look to the side and instantly tear my eyes away. I pinch my lids shut, but it's too late. The sight is already burned into my mind: the Village Idiot, pants on the ground. Fat legs sagging over a toilet seat.

"Can I get little help here?!" he yells again. "I just took a huge dump in here and there's no toilet paper!"

The people at a nearby table notice the open door and fall quiet, petrified. The chatter in the pub dies down as more and more people look to see what's got everybody else's attention. Within seconds the entire place is stunned into silence.

"IT'S A MESS IN HERE!" he roars.

No one rises to help. Everybody is shell-shocked. Some stare down at their tables, not knowing what to do with themselves. Others gaze at the walls and pretend to appreciate the ugly paintings hanging on them.

"Ma'am, I know you see me!" He calls out to Kina the waitress, who abruptly turns her head and pretends not to see him.

"CAN SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP ME?!"

No one moves. Not a soul moves.

Behind the counter, Pumm's eyes are as wide as the dinner plates in his hands. His mouth hangs open, forgotten. His gaze crosses mine for just a second. "Uh," he clears his throat, shifting nervously, "there's some in the broom closet behind you," he mumbles. He looks down at the floor, avoiding eye contact.

I glance behind me, but there's nobody else there. There's just the closet. Wait. He was addressing me? The hairs on my neck stand up as I become very aware of dozens of pairs of eyes shifting their attention to me. Now everybody in the Lumpy Pumpkin is looking at me, watching to see what I will do. What, just because I'm closest to the restroom door?! I turn back to Pumm for support, but he's giving me the cold shoulder. A furious squeaking reaches my ears as he scrubs at a plate that is already spotless.

I don't think. I whip open the closet, grab the first roll of toilet paper I see, and extend my hand toward the open bathroom door. I scrunch my eyes shut, looking the other way.

The Village Idiot snatches the roll of toilet paper and slams the door hard, causing the "Don't forget to wash your hands!" sign to bounce off of it and flip over. I grasp both sides of the sign and turn it back so the words are facing up, if only to delay facing my audience for another second.

I whirl around and head back to my spot at the bar without looking at anybody, trying to act as if nothing happened. A slow clap starts from somewhere in the back of the room. More hands join in until the entire tavern erupts into a full blown applause. My face heats up. I can feel the color spreading down my neck and all the way to the tips of my ears. I stay focused on my seat, my mouth crinkling up as I fight the urge to hide my face.

"Yeeaahh!" Gondo cheers, putting up his hand for a high-five. "Little buddy to the res…cue."

The look on my face silences him.

Pumm stands behind the counter, goggling at me with what I interpret to be a mixture of sympathy and awe. I avert my gaze and pinch the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger, closing my eyes. "Another round, please."

Without a word, Pumm nods and stiffly shuffles over to the keg. I slowly sit back down and let my head come to rest in my hands, still burning with embarrassment. Before tonight, I would have said it's more embarrassing to be walked in on than to be the person doing the walking in, but now I'm not so sure.

Eventually, the applause peters out and the normal backdrop of chatter picks up again as people go back to their conversations. Only then do I find it within me to lift my head. Gondo's still shooting me hopeful glances, like he wants to talk about it.

"I don't want to talk about it!" I snap, cutting him off before he can open his mouth. I glance past him. "Where did your new 'buddy' go?"

"Oh...he went upstairs," Gondo says. "He's Quill's grandad, did you know that?"

"Yep."

"Nice guy, but Gods, I thought he'd never leave."

Pumm returns with our drinks. "This one's on me," he mutters, sliding full mugs of pumpkin juice in front of both of us. I check inside mine to make sure there are no fruit flies in it. "Sorry for putting you on the spot back there." Pumm nods his head in my direction, brushing some non-existent dirt off his apron. "I probably should have taken care of that, so...enjoy."

"Heeey, you got us free drinks!" Gondo nudges me excitedly. "How about that!"

I actually smile. "I know, right? Maybe I should be a good Samaritan more often."

"I think just this once will be it," interjects Pumm. I catch myself giving him an annoyed glare. What a buzzkill.

"Um, dad?" Kina slips behind the bar and walks hastily up to her father, clutching a tray to her chest. "There have been some complaints about the condition of the restroom..." She sticks her tongue out and wrinkles her nose makes a disgusted face.

Pumm rolls his eyes and groans, putting a hand on his hip. "Guess I'd better get in there with a plunger. Hold down the fort, will you Kina?"

He thrusts a broom into her hands and lumbers off to the bathroom. I suck down some more pumpkin juice. I'm still uptight. I need to loosen up. This is only my third one, probably Gondo's fourth or fifth one by now. There's an irritated moan beside me as he bends down to scratch at the bandage on his leg.

"Just look at this. I'm going to have to change this dressing all over again even though I just did that after work," he grumbles. "It's really driving me nuts. I hope it's not infected."

"I doubt it," I reply. "Remlits have these toxins they secrete in their teeth and claws that can cause irritation. That's probably what it is."

"What?!"

Kina casts another grossed-out look at us from the back of the kitchen. Don't eavesdrop on our conversation then, Miss Priss.

"Yep. It won't kill you, it'll just make your life miserable for a little while." I tell him. "Bertie could give you some ointment for that. If you recall, he was into plant medicine or whatever before Luv...absorbed him into her business."

"Huh. I never knew that."

"Well, he's not much of a self-promoter."

"Guess I'll have to ask him then," he says, picking up his latest drink. "You know an awful lot about treating remlit bites. Don't tell me you got bitten too."

I look down at the counter. After a moment, I nod. "It was a long time ago," I say. "Remember Shrike? That skeevy little flea magnet from Knight Academy?"

He nods.

"I guess you could say he and his sister were childhood friends of mine."

Gondo straightens up in surprise. "Really?"

"I know. Weird right?" I say. "My mother thought they were trashy and didn't want me associating with them, but they were my only friends. They were it. So I continued to do so against her wishes..." I stare at my hands, pushing my mug from side to side. "At some point, Shrike started hating me. Or maybe he always hated me and he was just taking advantage of my amazing backyard. Actually, that was probably it. Once he threatened to hit me with a hammer if I didn't have him over...come to think of it, I should have seen this coming all along."

Gondo gives me a highly concerned look.

I breathe out. "Anyway. Predictably, I smartened up and we grew apart. Some years later I got really mad at him for one reason or another, so I stole his prized treasure map he'd been bragging about for days on end. I followed it into the waterfall cave..." A cynical laugh escapes me. I smile. Sometimes if I smile wide enough, I can convince myself that it wasn't that bad. "Turned out he purposely left that map out for me. There was no treasure. Just his pet remlit."

"Whoa..." Gondo flounders a moment, like doesn't quite know how to react. The corner of his mouth dips down. "I knew he was a bad egg, but that's...evil."

I snort. "It's no wonder I'm so paranoid," I say, taking another drink.

"He never did go on to become a knight, did he? Only two in our class did. Quill and Chat," says Gondo. "I wonder what ever happened to all those other guys."

"Pff. Who knows, who cares." I prop my head up, feeling more tired by the minute. I could fall asleep. "Why did you even want to attend the Knight Academy in the first place? You never seemed into it at all. No offense."

"No offense taken." He faces front and pushes his now-empty mug to the other side of the counter. "Everyone always calls me crazy for doing this. I wanted to attend knight school for a year because I thought I would be able to make better gear for knights if I learned more about combat and experienced what they go through myself."

I look at him. "Wow," I say in earnest respect. That's dedication. I may have underestimated him. "I must say I'm impressed."

He chuckles. "Yep. I was planning to quit after year one from day one...just don't tell my mom that," he says, rubbing his head. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm glad you quit too. If I you hadn't started up your shop first, I don't think I would have gotten off the ground."

I'm taken aback. "...You really think that?"

"Yeah, man! If I didn't have your business model and customers to mooch off of, I'd probably be a starving mechanic! Just don't make your shields too good or you'll run me out of business. Hahaha! I kid, I kid."

I avert my eyes, smiling to myself. Of course I've always thought that, but it's strange actually hearing it out of his mouth. I feel gratitude at first, but then a twinge of regret. All I've ever done is think horrible things about him and cheat him out of business, and here he thought highly of me all this time. My heart swells with guilt. All those years of thinking he was secretly judging me behind that mask of his...I can't believe I thought that. He's not like that.

He's not like me.

"Hey! How is everything?"

Kina pops in front of us and clasps her hands together, tilting her head in an endearing manner.

Gondo flashes his teeth. "Great! Now that you're here."

I take a drink to hide the smirk creeping across my face, trying not to stare. Yeah. Now that you're here.

Kina giggles and blushes, placing a hand on her cheek. "Good! I'm glad. Just let me know if you need anything!"

She parts with flirty little smile and flits off to bat eyes at some other poor chump. She walks in an energetic, bouncy fashion that only serves to garner attention to herself. Gondo turns completely around in his seat and watches her go, being very...obvious. And I thought I was bad.

"What do you think? Not bad, eh?" Gondo grins dumbly. "She's really pretty!"

I recoil a little inside. I don't think he realizes how loud he is. "Yeah, she's pretty," I agree quietly, peeking over my shoulder at her. "Not really my type, though. Something about her grinds on my nerves." I think on it a moment, trying to pinpoint what it is. "She tries too hard to act cute, you know? She is just...so fake." Suddenly, I glimpse a familiar hairstyle out of the corner of my eye. It's Pompadour! Whatever his name is.

"Ahaa! My favorite customer!" I yell to him as he tromps past. I wave, beaming. "We're having a special on bombs next week so don't forget to drop by and restock!"

The oaf squints at me and gives me a befuddled stare, like he has no idea who the hell I am. I turn back around and let my features sink back to normal. I feel Gondo's scrutinizing gaze on me.

"What? Stop looking at me like that. You know everyone is my favorite customer."

He just shrugs and takes a swig of pumpkin juice. "So Kina's not your type, eh?" he says, putting his drink down. I think I know where he's going with this. "Who is? You got your eye on anybody?"

A fresh wave of heat seeps into my face as Peatrice comes to mind. "Yes." I smirk. "As a matter of fact, I do."

"Really?" Gondo puts his drink down leans his arm on the counter, a grin unfurling on his face. "So, who is she?"

He inches to the edge of his seat, doing a poor job of hiding his curiosity. I might as well tell him. Maybe he'll know something about her that I don't.

"All right, I'll tell you. But you have to keep this under wraps, okay?" I keep a flat expression to show him how serious I am. "There are certain people out there...well, let's just say things could be very bad for me if they found out."

"My lips are sealed."

"Okay." I look from side to side. Maybe I'm paranoid, but in public places you never know who might be listening in. I lean a little closer to him, my voice barely a whisper. "It's Peatrice."

"Peatrice?!" he blurts out.

"Shhhh! Idiot!"

Gondo screws up his face, looking positively stumped. "...Who's that?"

My jaw drops. "Gondo! You—" I catch myself talking too loud and lower my voice. "You don't know her?!" I stammer in disbelief. "She runs the stall right next to yours! She's been there for over a year."

"Oh! Peatrice!" he says in a hushed tone, catching on. "Yeah, I know who you mean. Yeah." He smiles, recognition dawning on his face. "She's cute. Maybe a little young for me, but you should go for it!"

I give him a wry side-glance. "Gondo. You and I are the same age."

"Oh. Right." He cringes. "Well, you know what they say. Age is just a number. And besides, you guys have a lot in common! You both work at the Bazaar. You both live with your parents."

...

"...What meant to say was, you have nothing to lose! Just be yourself."

I furrow my brow, a little thrown by that answer. "...Myself," I echo, skeptical.

"Yeah! You should have no problem. You're nice to everyone you meet, even when you're frustrated, or irritated. Wish I could do that."

He stares off into space thoughtfully.

"Gondo." I give a humorless laugh, looking away. "You think too highly of me."

"Just don't give her too many compliments or she might think you're creepy," he says, not appearing to have heard me. "One time I complimented Piper on her dress and she reported me for harassment. What's up with that, eh?" He shrugs and shakes his head, raising his hands. "Now that I think about it, maybe she really is the culprit. Think she could still be bitter over that?!"

Gondo starts rambling about his noticeboard troubles again, but my thoughts drown him out. For some reason, I can't get past that one thing he said. I gaze down at the reflection in my pumpkin juice. Myself. Myself...

What is that?

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

A/N: Fun fact: if you talk to Dovos (the Village Idiot) around the time of the toilet ghost incident, he mentions that he's "been in that situation before." Sometimes these characters just make it too easy.

Believe it or not, this chapter marks the halfway point of the story! Yes, there will be around thirty when this is all over. What the heck is Rupin going to do for fifteen more chapters? A lot. At this point, I'd really like to get some reader input on some things and see what the general attitude is out there. I also like to find ways to give readers a little say in what they'd like to see, while still writing the story I want to write. So I made a little questionnaire for you guys to fill out!

I mean, not that you have to or anything. It's always free to read, friends, and there's no pressure to review. No pressure at all.../creepy Rupin smile/ All right, alright, I'm kidding. Half...kidding. But in all seriousness, I'd be very appreciative if you answered these. Heck, you don't even have to feel obligated to answer all of them. If you just want to pick one or two of them, that would be awesome. Feel free to PM as well if you're not comfortable reviewing.

~Halfway Point Questions~

1. Who are your favorite Skyloft residents? Which characters would you most like to see make an appearance (or reappearance) in future chapters? EDIT: There is a poll on my profile for this one instead. If you have a minute, please stop by and vote for up to 4 characters you would most like to see.

2. What was your favorite chapter and/or customer situation so far? Whichever of those comes to mind. On the reverse side, was there anything you didn't like?

3. Rupin. Do you sincerely LIKE the guy, or do you just love to hate him? Has your opinion of him changed at all since you started this fic?

4. On a scale of 5 [Shopkeeper Match Made in Heaven!] to 1 [NO! NO!] how much do you like the Rupin/Peatrice pairing? Be honest. You won't hurt my feelings. This isn't going to change my mind about anything, but I'm just curious how people are receiving this subplot.

5. Which Skyward Sword Shopkeeper are you? I made a personality quiz! The link can be found at the top of my profile if you're interested, because I can't post links here without them going all wonky. Results are detailed and include the 6 main Bazaarians + Beedle.

This are just the things I'd love to know if you're willing to share, but if not, that's okay! Most of these questions will be relevant forever, so even if you came to the party late, I'll still be curious to hear your answers. As always, thanks for reading! It makes me smile when I see the favs and follows going up even when it's taking me forever to update. I'll be cutting way back on chapter length for a while to make things easier on me, so look for the next one within the same month.