He seems pleased, which is a good enough start. ”I am a patient woman,” she says. And that was somewhat true. In certain things Weaver knew how to be patient, how to wait for the opportune moment. It was something her mother had excelled at, and something she’d attempted to impart on her children. ”I am sure you will agree with me in time.”
She has to laugh at his next comment, and then looks pointedly down at her chest. ”No, I’d say they look a few feet south of my face and then stop.” Her chest was not overly large in any sense, but certainly it was not unattractive either. Besides, she’s pretty sure she could have had grapes for boobs and most men would have still stared. Boys and boobs. She didn’t quite understand the fascination, but maybe because she had them.
”I know we are fishing, but details…” she says, a playful almost-whine in her voice. It is clear she is being dramatic on purpose and for no actual reason. Though he is already explaining, adding hooks and bait to the line before handing her a rod. She takes it, watching as he casts the hook and worm into the ocean. It lands with a satisfying plop. Doing her best to mimic the motion, Weaver casts her own line. It lands a bit shy of his, though not embarrassingly so, and it seems she’s managed not to make a total ass of herself on her first fishing attempt. Well, casting attempt, really. They have only begun to fish. ”Who taught you to fish?” she asks.
She has to laugh at his next comment, and then looks pointedly down at her chest. ”No, I’d say they look a few feet south of my face and then stop.” Her chest was not overly large in any sense, but certainly it was not unattractive either. Besides, she’s pretty sure she could have had grapes for boobs and most men would have still stared. Boys and boobs. She didn’t quite understand the fascination, but maybe because she had them.
”I know we are fishing, but details…” she says, a playful almost-whine in her voice. It is clear she is being dramatic on purpose and for no actual reason. Though he is already explaining, adding hooks and bait to the line before handing her a rod. She takes it, watching as he casts the hook and worm into the ocean. It lands with a satisfying plop. Doing her best to mimic the motion, Weaver casts her own line. It lands a bit shy of his, though not embarrassingly so, and it seems she’s managed not to make a total ass of herself on her first fishing attempt. Well, casting attempt, really. They have only begun to fish. ”Who taught you to fish?” she asks.
weaver
-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --
Quote by Charles Dickens
