"Won't be when we fry him up," he promises, still on the verge of laughter. It's not that he's holding it in, exactly, he's just quiet in his amusement. The glare he's fixing on the whiskery little bastard is mainly for show, because he likes her laughing about it. There's a not insignificant impulse to drag her home and pick up where they left off and leave the goddamn fish for a victory dinner after, but that's not exactly in line with taking things at her pace. Still, it's a nice idea,

Anyway, this fish is getting what it deserves.

"Guess I'm good luck."