Caelan chuckled as Dusty commented on his physique. He was skinny, he knew that. Probably skinnier than he should be, but understandable given the circumstances. Part of him wondered if Dusty would have shot birds off the roof in his quest to find some source of meat, had he lived in the apartment complex. Caelan had contemplated it a few times, even just throwing stones at the creatures or somehow entrapping them, but he couldn’t stomach it. Sure, he might be able to get himself a dead bird, but there was no way in hell he’d pluck and cook the thing.<br/><br/>He sat on the metal bench as Dusty maneuvered them through the swamp. The bayou was an entirely different world, almost completely untouched aside from the path the current had carved through the marsh. Caelan began to understand why Dusty favored this place. The waters were quiet and unassuming. He wondered if this was what it felt like to live inside a snow globe. Nothing from the outside world or even the fall of humanity could touch them here. For all he cared, they were the only two survivors in the world. He didn’t blame Dusty for wanting this life.<br/><br/>“I won’t accept that trade.” Caelan responded, attempting to be more of the businessman that Dusty was. “You can have the fruit from today in exchange for bringing me out here. That’s all I want. It doesn’t matter to me if we catch anything or spend the day drinking.” He shrugged, turning to face Dusty. “The company is enough.” Caelan didn’t realize how desperate he was for social interaction until he met Dusty. He had to stuff his pride and anger deep down inside him and bite his tongue from what he wanted to say to the man. Their friendship was worth more.<br/><br/>Their travels lasted for a little while longer before Dusty slowed the boat to a stop. He gazed around, shielding his eyes with his hands. They were in the middle of the bayou, in a place that looked quite like what they had been traveling through for the past ten or twenty minutes. Caelan didn’t understand the call to stop here, but he wouldn’t doubt Dusty's intuition and experience around these parts.<br/><br/>“Pulling… what?” Caelan caught up slowly, his face twisted with confusion. What the hell could be done with an alligator besides selling their heads and feet in souvenir shops? “You’re going to catch an alligator?” His memory rapidly went back to Dusty teaching him how to shoot one. Something about a quarter. He hadn’t been paying much attention because it was rare to see an alligator waddling down Canal Street. The memory was quickly followed by Dusty pointing out one of the beasts in the water. “Abso-fucking-lutely not. You want to haul an alligator onto the boat?<i>This </i>boat?” The boat was a floating piece of aluminum foil. The famous door on<i>Titanic </i>was a football field compared to it.<br/><br/>He slid closer to the center of the bench, eying the murky waters around them with more skepticism and concern than before. He sat there for a few moments longer before he moved to sit in the middle of the boat, his back against the bench. Caelan grabbed a couple beers from the cooler and popped one open for Dusty. He gestured to it and sat it down near him on the bench, out of the way of the pole. He took a healthy swig and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Caelan sat with his legs bent, his arms draped over his knees. His attention stayed trained on Dusty while the man's attention was garnered by the fishing pole and bait. "The last time we were together you said that you had found a little<i>lagniappe. </i>In reference to me." Caelan absently swirled the liquid in his beer bottle. "What did you mean by that?"