Oystercatcher Tide Pools small fish circling

nat 20 roll = hella success catchin fish

There was a defiance in the dark girl, and while she may have been surprised that her pointed attitude had not grazed his crooked grin, it was only because she did not understand where he came from. Smokestep was fluent in the art of fiery women and the burn that their temper wrought. Growing up alongside Sandpiper, he learned to craft himself in a way that allowed for their skills to shine through and he was more than willing to allow for fierceness in such a life. It was an idea that would likely never change in him, because it afforded him so much room to grow with those who crossed his path.
 
The dark one caved after a few moments of thought, telling him that she wasn’t looking for a handout but a lesson. The pirate shrugged his shoulders and chuckled softly at the remark. “Well, I ain’t a skivvy, girlie,” he warned her, suggesting that he wasn’t in the business of working for anyone. “I’d much rather teach ye a skill than give ye one meal.” It was an age old story; teach a man to fish, right? He moved so that he was in a better position and crouched himself low enough so that his shadow was not cast over the pool. Smokestep watched with trained eyes at the circling fish.
 
“Ye’ve got to have a lick o’ patience in ye fer fishin’,” he ushered in a hushed tone. “Wait til they’re comin’ to the surface fer a bug, an then-“ he lunged forward with parted jaws and sunk his muzzle deep into the pool. Once he had pulled himself back out, a large fish was clasped between his teeth and writhing against the light of day. Smokestep bit down hard, feeling the body give beneath the strength of his jaw, and then placed the thing at his feet with a smirk.
 
“Ready?”