Lightly, he says. What he gets after a 'sure, okay' sort of shrug and a shift in the angle of her hip and shoulders out toward the water, is a sharp snap of the pole. It's like swinging a baseball bat except at a different angle. The line travels out, plunking down a few sad feet from the side of the boat.

"Aw what. Hold on--" Ellie hastily cranks the reel, the bob on the line jerking steadily backwards until it comes sweeping out of the water, hook and all swinging wildly back in their direction.

She catches the line without a second thought before the hook at the end can snag anywhere less than pleasant, seemingly unaware of how close she came to it. Jamming her tongue in her cheek, she swings it out a second time with marginally better results.