Whitefish River My Heart and Hands Collide

Frustrated. He isn't sure how to take that — she'd mentioned fishing, but it seems off somehow. Maybe he's just worrying too much. His gaze drifts back toward the water as he hesitates, uncertain whether to press on or just go back to fishing. Thankfully, Ira smacking some poor fish as if it'd insulted her mother gives him a good opening to try to get back to their original plan. If you um, hook your paw a little more, it would help, and — and...
Sorry, um. I can't... focus, His voice goes a little quieter toward the end, and he starts again a bit too loudly to make up for it, as if that might erase his prior words. Maybe we should try something else.