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</div>Caelan clung to him now, maybe out of more than just fear and necessity. It seemed to take his mind off of all the ways the bayou could destroy a man, and for a few drawn out moments they explored one another's mouths in water up to their neck. Dusty kept them afloat without too much issue, even with Caelan's long legs threaded through his own. He eventually guided them back to the boat, holding a hand out to stop them so as to not run them into it. He took hold of Caelan's hips and hefted him up onto the edge of the flat bottomed boat, then pushed himself up beside him.<br/><br/>"We need to filet dose fish,<i>Etranje</i>." Dusty reminded him, smiling with a raised brow. He knew his name, and had said it before, but some nicknames became habit. That was Caelan's fault for not telling him sooner. Without a doubt minds had started to drift elsewhere, but there would be time for that later if he was lucky. Dusty put his shoes shoes and draped his gun belt over his shoulder. He tossed Caelan the shotgun, and then he hit the valve to let the livewell drain. He threaded all the fish on a single rope before slinging them over his shoulder as well, the catfish on the end furthest away from him. He then grabbed the beer and nodded towards the rickety dock and the old house.<br/><br/>He stepped out onto the dock carefully, testing the structure before assuring Caelan that it would hold. He pointed out a few boards that were rotted, and the whole thing was leaning, but Dusty made it to the other side with everything in careful balance, a lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth.<br/><br/>"Nobody here," Dusty assured him, voice muffled, pointing out to a few crudely marked graves, overgrown and nearly overtaken. He took the cigarette between his fingers to explain further.  "Buried da folk dat used to live here. Like I say, dey won't mind. Might be able to start a fire and find a pot for cookin'. Smoke you up some of dis fish, unless you got somewhere betta to be." Dusty wasn't expected they'd return until the next morning, not after coming to the perfectly usable shack in Dusty's eyes. It wasn't a Hilton, but it would shelter them comfortably enough, and likely it hadn't been ransacked like everything else in the city. They still had daylight, but not for much longer. Dusty walked to the dilapidated porch, setting the beers down and dumping the fish onto an outdoor table.