[ He makes a mental note to return the favor and cover their train fare on the way back, watching Malkuth's movements. Though he scans the map as Malkuth does, he's mulling over her words, still on the subject of ducks and the apt comparison that they make, even if what might have been an uncomfortable observation was meant as an insult. It isn't inaccurate, he thinks — on the surface, Malkuth was usually nice and chipper indeed, no matter what she uttered in her bright tone, what kind of situation was the topic to discuss. What lay beneath the surface, however, while she paddled and paddled to stay afloat in her own way? He can't imagine that it wasn't there, latent and building up, like his own stifled emotions.

It describes Elijah, too, who seemed incapable of stillness, ever accompanied by the sound of her pen scratching away on page after page of paper. Maybe that pen was discarded with everything else that didn't land in storage. ]

Instead of the contrast that he perceives, you associate ducks with resilience, in other words, though their appearance might cause people to underestimate them.

[ That also seems fitting. But then, Malkuth has changed, he thinks again. ]

What exactly led to that conversation?