The Archman

Chapter 10 - A Primitive Meal

"Would you like to know why I have yet to be apprehended?" There is slightly more heat behind the Archman's words than usual, but they still reserve their usual cold indifference.

Eira responds with silence. She has stopped mopping the deck, as all her faculties have been repurposed to keep her from being crippled by the Archman's gaze.

"It's because I know when to choose my battles."

"It must be awfully boorish to only fight in battles you know you can win." Eira isn't sure why she keeps saying the things which are coming out of her mouth. It's like she's losing more and more control over her communication skills.

"Spoken as someone who's clearly never been in a battle."

This time, Eira bites her tongue, for fear that she may respond with the same impulsive carelessness once again.

The empty space between Eira and the Archman is suddenly filled with a gurgling sound, as Eira's stomach rumbles with fierce advocacy. They both look down at Eira's abdomen in unison, then back up to one another's eyes with the same fluid tandem.

"Pardon me..." Eira says at a half-whisper, not sure if she's apologizing or excusing herself.

"Right..." the Archman looks away and sighs, his face shifting to a faint look of exasperated irritation. He is annoyed at both the situation, and himself for overlooking this circumstance. He turns away and leaves the upper deck, walking down the staircase which brought them there. He walks across the upper deck and down into the hatchway which leads below decks.

Eira goes back to swabbing the deck, as it's the only action she can take at this moment.

The Archman returns a minute later, carrying a long, thin metal pole along with him. As he walks back to the upper deck, Eira sees that it's a steel fishing rod. The addition of a small crank on the handle of the pole made her second-guess her presupposition, though. Clearly the Archman has something for cranks, levers, and similar contraptions.

"Here." The Archman holds the rod out to Eira, who takes it skeptically in her hand. She holds it awkwardly, as her other hand is still gripping the mop.

"So..."

"Catch yourself something."

"Right..." Eira puts down the mop so she can hold the fishing rod more dexterously, though this does little to familiarize her with the instrument. She knew how a typical fishing rod worked, but this one was well outside her realm of knowledge. She pulls a metal trigger on the pole, causing the hook on the end of the line to fall flat onto the floor.

"Oh..." She speaks plainly, trying to mask her confusion.

The Archman looks at Eira with an unshifting expression of ill humour on his face. He holds his hand out, requesting the fishing rod back.

"Sorry..." Eira hands the rod back to the Archman, a twinge of embarrassment in her voice.

The Archman takes the fishing rod, turning the small crank attached to the crank, reeling the line back up. He holds the rod up and inspects the hook. Right above the hook is a leaden weight and a colourful glass bait attached to the line.

The Archman hangs the rod over the edge of the boat then squeezes the trigger, causing the line to slacken instantly, falling downwards into the water several meters below. He holds the trigger a few moments longer, letting the hook sink into the water.

Eira quickly picks the mop back up, so she isn't left just standing around. It is hard to keep her focus on the task at hand, however, as the prospect of food is starting to make her hungrier by the second.