—Speak of the Deviljho—
Your mission today wasn't assigned to you by the Third Fleet Master and won't even bring you close by the Research Base, but walking around the Coral Highlands still gives you an anxious feeling in the pit of your stomach.
Why did you come here? The brawny visage of the Canteen's Meowscular Chef comes to mind, but it's not the answer to the incredulous rhetorical question that your heart seeks.
Just why do you insist on torturing yourself? You have so many unanswered questions and the one person who can provide an answer isn't interested in giving one. So what can you do but wait until something gives?
Your dejection turns easily into annoyance and you scoff at your own folly. There's nothing here for you. You should just move on. Despite what you might have thought could have maybe possibly been going on between you and the Third Fleet Master, she's less than interested in you as a person. You're a Hunter and therefore, you are useful to her. You fight, she studies-a mutually beneficial exchange of services and information that has been the very basis of expansion of the New World.
There's nothing more and if you keep your distance, you'll more than likely be able to bury the affectionate stirrings beneath your breast. It will take time and it will take will power, but you can do it.
You tell yourself all of this, repeat it like a mantra until your frustration fades. You aren't sure when you clenched your hands into fists, but the sting of crescent marks along your palms warns you that you should release the tension in your muscles.
Back to the task at hand. You fall into the familiar routine of locating and harvesting materials around the clearing. The Paolumu is thankfully absent, though the thought of it sparks the memory of a small smile and a lingering touch at your collar.
It's silly, but part of you still wants to see her.
You mount the rise and nearly choke on an intake of air, you're so surprised: the Third Fleet Master has shed her dark purple and white scholar's robes in favour of the Kirin armor set— a combination of white hide trimmed with fawn brown fur that leaves very little to the imagination. She's not wearing the horned headpiece, though, and her hair is caught up in a bun from which a few dark strands have escaped.
Even more surprising than the fact that she's outside of the Research Base or what she's currently wearing or even that there's a weapon—a bow—across her lap is the fact that she's leaning against the corpse of the Odogaron, her pipe between pursed lips.
You're at a complete loss.
She spares you a glance as she exhales. "It's about time you showed up."
Huh?
Rather than explain herself, she offers you the pipe and, after some hesitation, you shake your head. You want to understand the enigmatic woman more than anything. She isn't fond of straight answers and explanations, obviously, so what could this stunt mean?
Actions speak louder than words and you are a woman of action. Is the Third Fleet Master trying to appeal to that? You don't want to read too far into it—not again.
She sighs and stows her pipe in her pack. It's then you notice there's no Palico around. Had she really slain this fearsome creature all on her own?
"Let's head back," she says, getting to her feet.
For the first time, she glances over her shoulder after walking some distance to make sure you're behind her. When she sees you haven't moved, her shoulders slump.
"...Please?"
Smirking faintly, you finally acquiesce and let her lead the way to the Research Base.
Her bottom looks great in that fur skirt.