Wheeling Gull Isle if only time flew like a dove

Driftwood's attentively pricked ears caught all of her words, but he still wasn't sure he was quite hearing them right. You caught it for me?! he said, baffled, and then winced internally. He really did wish he was better about thinking how these things might sound before he uttered them. He glanced behind him at the slightly restless gray waters, hoping this might prove a small distraction from his own ineptness. In the ocean. Oh! Well congratulations. This time there was a bit of a physical wince visible to accompany this. I mean, uh—thank you? Thank you. Yes. I appreciate it. Driftwood's boggled expression could not have been labeled anything close to "thankful" by even the most generous observer however as he stared down at the glassy-eyed twitching fish. The salmon's eyeballs made him a little uncomfortable but it was still better than meeting Moorhen's own intense stare, at least. Besides which the fish didn't seem particularly aware of him as its twitching grew more feeble and its gasping breaths stuttered slowly to a halt; at least it wasn't stnding here in the snow staring at and judging him. Moorhen seemed a bit nicer than usual here it was true but somehow that was almost more unnerving to Driftwood. He really didn't know how to handle this change, and felt as out of his element here as the dying almon itself. A moment's quick pang of sympathy passed from his eyes down to the fish at this.

Eat fish, Moorhen commanded however, and Driftwood scrambled to obey. Oh, uh, yes! Yes'm, miss Akhlut! Eat fish. Okay. Driftwood lowered his jaws to the salmon in obedient haste, thinking too that filling his jaws might be a good idea anyhow as it would prevent his tongue from finding any more graceless words to spout. As he clamped down on the fish however he managed to embarrass himself a little more even so: it gave one final abortive spasm as it felt the jaws of death descend, and Driftwood squeaked in surprise and half-dropped the thing. He folded his ears back in humiliation and hastened to bite down more firmly on the thing, yanking off bigger and more awkward gulps than he was usually more wont to do in his haste to do Moorhen's bidding, despite not really being hungry. She outranked him, after all; it wouldn't do at all to have her thinking he was trying to dodge orders here. Or that he was some kind of fish-fearing wuss. She was still staring at him over there, though, wasn't she...?! Driftwood nearly choked himself as he tried to bolt down the next bite or three all at once and simultaneously flick a quick furtive look in his superior's direction to try and make sure he wasn't just imagining things, here. Fank oo, he mumbled again, more indistinctly as his mouth manhandled his meal. ...Drift was always awkward but oh man, he didn't think he'd ever made quite this much of a dolt of himself before. He was forced to pause and cough for a moment to get that overlarge scaly bite down, but almost before he'd managed to get himself breathing normally again was already reaching to take another mouthful. It was still better than his failing at making conversation, at least, surely.