[ It's choppy, in his head, as first he tries to gloss over his emotions—suspicion perceptible in brief, brilliant flashes, like fish beneath waves—then thinks better of it. Her smile meets with cool irritation, her touch with resignation.
Once she's found her footing he joins her on the boat, obeying the fisherman's gesticulations about where to stand. He swaps out his fishing pole for a paddle. Without looking her way, he says: ] I don't know how much fishing you've done, but a certain amount of quiet is de rigueur.
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Once she's found her footing he joins her on the boat, obeying the fisherman's gesticulations about where to stand. He swaps out his fishing pole for a paddle. Without looking her way, he says: ] I don't know how much fishing you've done, but a certain amount of quiet is de rigueur.