Yolanda
"...Herself in the Heavens, Her beam on the waves. I gazed awhile on her cold smile; 
Too cold- too cold for me- There pass'd, as a shroud,..." *[From Evening Star, by Edgar Allen Poe]* Silver tended to the small poke wounds on his fingers, his jacket with a fresh line a stitches across it. The lack of any finger protection made it hard to stitch a thing up. He had ripped it attempting to run from a particularly nasty nest of poochyana. 
"...A fleecy cloud, And I turned away to thee, Proud Evening Star,..." The graveyard was cold, bone-chilling even. The laugh of ghostly pokemon rang strong in the surrounding wildlands and the song of birds accompanied his silent pondering. A plead to the gods in the skies, perhaps? His own way to pray to Ho-Oh for a wish, praising the skies its golden wings soar over.
Or maybe he just likes poetry.
Kathi
He's busy at one of the little gazebos, leaving out little peaches in the plate. When he hears a voice, he immediately turns around, trying to place if it were a ghost or someone else. Oh! It's Silver. Lance will admit, he hasn't seen him much. Maybe that's Lance's fault for not reaching out to him. Mainly, his goals were to keep those three safe, as well as his own Pokémon. Silver's had it pretty rough here, he hears. Something about Giovanni... Lance didn't get all the details, because he's no eavesdropper, but his ears were especially sensitive. 

Quietly he bowed to the little offering before approaching Silver, who seemed caught up in his sewing. "Do you need any help with that?" He noted the red marks on his fingers. It was difficult not to hurt yourself doing this kind of thing, but Lance was an expert.
Yolanda
With a tired expression, like he's had a lack of sleep, the pokemon trainer turns at the approaching footsteps with a glare sharp as a knife. 
"No proper hello? Seems like you." In his tired stupor, he turned to his usual bitterness. His tone holding enough venom to take out a snorlax. "No, I don't need help. I was just finishing up."

Silver balled his wounded hand into a fist, shoving said hand into his pocket. He wasn't ready for some scolding or mystical lesson about friendship or some shit. 
"Come to pester me, old man?"
Kathi
Ah, well. Initiating conversations aren't exactly his specialty. You wouldn't think it, but the former Dragon Master is actually very socially awkward. "No, I don't want to bother you. I was here to pay my respects to my grandfather..." Lance tapped the back of his neck. He isn't buried here, but he figured he might as well try. He hasn't visited the cemetery in Blackthorn in ages. It's his own fault for getting so busy.

Lance was a little curious about the hand, and had his medical materials ready if necessary. But for now, the bitterness in his tone concerned him. Was he really that insufferable to Silver? Or perhaps everyone is simply insufferable to Silver. He doesn't know. He's not a pessimist. 

"Do you have a grandfather too, Silver?"