Duck Lake can't remember when it started

"Dawn," the male repeated, his gaze becoming slightly less warm, but no less friendly as he observed that the girl was younger than he'd first thought. Not too young, perhaps, but younger than what could usually hold his interest. His thoughts meandered onto her words, and though - at first - he imagined a woman named Dawn ought to be painted like the sunrise, he realized that this young woman had a coat for the hours just before that - when the early light painted the whole world in shades of silver and grey. "It suits you," he decided, a note of approval in his voice.

Eventually, his mind made it to the question of food. He let out a lazy hmmm, looking around for some yet unidentified object. "There are fish in this lake," he offered, though he padded further from the shore. "I probably scared them with all the splashin', but if we can find some good bait, we'll get them back to the shallows. See anything smelly around?"

They'd be fishing for catfish, most probably. Although trout tasted much better than the former, which tended to taste a lot like mud, catfish were far more easily attracted and caught. Murdock would go for ease over taste any old day - it was all sustenance, at the end of the day.