Yeah, well, she was right. Somehow he had always figured Agatha had either had no friends, or pushed them all aside as she grew up because they were too stupid (or too weak to handle her). Or she just hated them for one reason or another, like Oak. But he couldnât help a little, mocky smile. So she had had friends (well, one). Friends (well, a friend) she had worked until exhaustion to help.
  âCute.â He mumbled, aware of the risk of being murdered right there.
  âWell, youâre right, though. Dragonite would be yelling at you until you brought him back⊠I guess those two just didnât mind resting in peace if it was their time, as you say.â His smile soon became smaller, getting softer. âSomehow, Iâm glad it was an accident, though. I mean, itâs still horrible. But at least itâs nature who did it.âÂ
  His eyes observed her on the sly, not sure if she was just lost on thought like he was starting to be or still sad. Either ways, she was giving him way too many opportunities to annoy her.
  He had done enough opening an old wound there.
  âItâs a shame I wasnât there to see you two, though. I would give my soul to see how your man made the oh-so-angry-and-creepy woman so happy.â If Agatha didnât kill him right there, he would make sure to, eventually, if he could talk to Celebi, make a stop in those times to watch all the romantic moments and then rub them at Agathaâs face until her death. And beyond. He knew she would be listening.
  âI can imagine it⊠Romantic dinner in the Ice Path with Litwicks instead of normal candles. Only the two of you. And around fifty spirits that wanted to share your love, of courseâŠâ
  He sighed, sliding away from her, although not getting up. Just keeping some distance between both. Enough for the cane to not reach. (Hopefully.)
  âIf you couldnât help, I guess no one could, hm? You were probably the only woman to make him happyâŠâ He chuckled. âDonât torture yourself over this so many years later.â