Fishing
DirtyWho: Gwil and open to fishing people and passersby
Where: By the lake, of course
When: Afternoon
Fishing – he could do fishing. And as soon as he’d been allocated his task, he headed out. Actually, of all of the things he could have ended up doing, fishing was probably the easiest – if most boring. Gwil found himself a rod and some bait and set up in a handy-looking spot. He wasn’t someone who would say he found fishing ‘fun’, but he’d learnt to fish as a boy with his da and he knew what made a good spot. He just wish he had a book to read, or some music to listen to to pass the time, but there was nothing – only the crackling sound of the burning building and the rank smell of smoke in the air.
He cast his first line and settled back against the bank, looking out over the lake as he waited for something to bite. That water looked good – maybe later he’d go for a swim, wash himself off. He knew he stank to high heaven, and looked like a bloody chimney sweep. He could wash his clothes at the same time, leave them to dry on the bank. Of course, that would mean lying around naked – which would probably offend some people. He rolled his eyes and began to whistle, making his own music.
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Hannah had been handed a fishing rod by someone - fucker had just slapped it in her hand like she knew what the fuck to do - and while she'd flipped Lina off as a matter of principle, she hadn't argued. Much. Because if she protested enough that she didn't know what to do they'd find something else - though she didn't really know what she could actually do, as she couldn't see plants to identify them, couldn't hunt, knew fuckall about building shelters or fishing. In fact, Hannah wondered why the fuck they'd stuck her here in the first place when she was best suited to something that required not moving far or being able to do shit with her hands. Like passing out sleeping bags. Sure, the fishing thing meant not moving but it also required... casting, or some shit? It required aim, and Hannah had none. So whatever. One wasted resource, coming right up.
She flopped down near someone whistling - annoyingly chipper, from the sounds of it, considering the house was burning - and dropped the pole beside her. "I don't know who the fuck you are," she started, "but I'm sure we both know I'm not going to catch a damn thing. So why don't I sit here and look busy, and you can help me keep an eye - or ear, in my case - open for anyone wandering by that feels like playing fucking Tom Sawyer or what the hell ever. Cool?"
Gwil looked over and raised
Gwil looked over and raised an eyebrow she couldn't see. And then rolled his eyes for good measure. But he was aware of Hannah's particular brand of sark, so when he spoke, he was all pleasantness. he'd had enough difficult clients in the past to know that you didn't let mannerisms get to you. "Fine by me," he agreed. "Did your dog get out okay?" he asked her, casting his own line back into the water again.