Caelan didn't know why Dusty's words were upsetting him. The Cajun man was absolutely correct. He was looking too deep into this after what had happened when they were last together. Caelan didn't for one second think that Dusty expected to have sex with the foolish cityslicker he plucked from the weeds. He also knew that there was very little he could say that would make sense to the man. The more he thought about it, the more muddled his thoughts became and he was left confused, but with a distinct pang in his chest.<br/><br/>"You're right, Dusty. Men say shit." Caelan finished his beer and tossed it onto the floor of the boat. It rolled off against the wall and Caelan paid it no mind as he fetched another from the cooler. He popped the top and took a drink, hand clenched firmly around the neck.<br/><br/>He was caught off guard by Dusty's exclamation after sharing his name. Caelan found himself smiling, more from curiosity than happiness, and shook the man's hand. He followed that response with a shake of his head and a shrug of his shoulders. Were they friends or were they two hopeless souls seeking out refuge in one another? Caelan wasn't sure there was much of a difference, not anymore.<br/><br/>Caelan eventually rose to his feet and approached Dusty, carrying his beer. "Do you need my help? I might not help you haul an alligator onto the boat, but I suppose I can be good for something else." He felt useless just sitting on the boat. Dusty didn't<i>need</i>his assistance, but he figured he might as well put in the effort to make this a shared experience. He also thought that maybe doing something would get his mind off of the bullshit brewing in his mind. "I wasn't paying attention when you were doing the hook thing and the, uh, swinging line thing." Caelan gestured in a circle above his head. "Can you teach me?"