"Fuck that," John scoffs, trying to act like he's been out fishing before and is above it. (He hasn't.) He just knows it's a lot of sitting around waiting for a maybe and he wouldn't know how to reel it in if that maybe happened to turn into a yes.

He follows Scott down onto the beach and towards the bungalows, keeping his head lowered as he kicks up some sand while he walks.

"I'll eat whatever you make." Not so much of a cunt now that there's nice things being dangled in front of him.