You wrestle with the tangled mess of fishing line, frustration painting your cheeks. Across the deck, Arlo lounges against the mast idly.

"Need a hand, Captain?" he calls out, his voice laced with amusement.

You yank on the line, a fierce glint in your eyes. "Not from you, deckhand."

The line snaps, leaving you empty-handed. Arlo's laughter drifts across the deck.

You toss a playful glare in his direction. "Just so you wait-"

Arlo feigns surprise. "Oh, I'm trembling in my boots, Love."