Sea Lion Shores I didn't think so but I'm still convincible

The place was dreadful, as his hunger led him to a coast he knew nothin’ about. He knew how to fish, yea, but the Aussie wasn’t too keep on being in water unless it was damned hot. And he had come to learn real quick that there wasn’t really any heat here. But he was a determined bloke, and be damned ailments that tried stopping him. That included the seasons. 

Weaving through the sand-starved thin trees on the edge of the coast, the shark-coated Aussie threw a jade scoot of stare across anything and everything that moved, a mild disgust building in his throat should there be nothing that stole his hunger away and what he’d have to do to pacify it water-wise. “Man, piss off, fish.” Too damn cold to touch that shit, anyway. He wanted a hearty and hot meal. He had gotten lucky with that horn-tangled buck that was half scavenged already. But that only lasted for so long. 

Something sharp ape and silver moved in the edge of his peripheral on his left, and locking onto the sight through the crash of water and wind, he saw whoever it was snooping around for their own whatever-it-was-they-were-looking-for. Tilting his scarred chin up, the shark tried to catch something other than salty water in the air, but was denied. 

Fuck. He had to get a bit closer and find out whatever and whoever this was, and whether they’d be willing to help feed themselves, while simultaneously feeding his ass. 
He ain’t really had plans to share, so if he had to put them down too, whatever.

Swaggering up to the majority of closeness that was considered decent, Ol’ Stormy began his song and dance. 

“G’day gorgeous,” he began after seeing she didn’t have a nutsack hanging from her crotch. And what a dime of a face, this sheila had, huh? “You wouldn’t happen to be huntin’ , wouldja?” he asked, a slick grin pulling charmingly on the edges of his lips.