He ignores her suggestion, fixated as he is on minding the water and what's beneath it. When he finally works the crank it's a slow, steady process: reel and wait, rinse, repeat. It'll pay off in the end, and the way he figures, it sets a good example for her.

"Alright, here we go." The bobber's close, near the edge of the boat, barely ducking low with the barest glint of silver beneath it catching in the sunlight. One last heavy yank of resistance and the line goes slack enough for him to pull back and find--

Nothing.

Well, shit. She might've been right after all.