"I don't know about you," Joel starts, easing back into his seat with his eyes trained on the sight of her huddled over the tin "but I'm not planning on cooking anything in the middle of a lake."

So the answer is no, Ellie.

"Shut the box, fix your line. Let's see if we can't pull up enough food for the both of us before we head back."

And he's let his own line go uselessly slack, curled up and looped across the water in a mess that threatens to tangle. Reeling it back and angling up for another cast is a process he doesn't take particularly slow, but then again, he's had years of practice.

Years of unpractice too, but it's like riding a bike: he's still got it.