"That sounds fun," Marco said, giving his tube another little spin. "Uhhhh I'm gonna guess... forty seven." He shrugged, turning to still look at Oliver and Edwin as his tube turned. "That's what it's gonna be. I know. I'm psychic."
"I'll play, too," Edwin started, but his focus remained in the water, and he cut himself off as he jabbed his spear back into the water. Finally, finally, the spear hit it's mark on a big ol' fish. Edwin was ready to celebrate, but despite stabbing the thing, the fish didn't die, and instead started thrashing despite being pinned. Edwin kept a tight grip on the spear, keeping it driven into the fish, but he winced as the thing splashed large amounts of water up at him until he figured out how to move his spear without losing his catch. Throwing the fish behind him to land also meant throwing his spear, and he glanced back long enough to make sure he wouldn't hit Oliver before he flung both into the grass.
For a moment Edwin just stayed still, accepting the fact that he was now soaked. It took a few tries to get his wet hair to stay out of his eyes, before he silently held his hands up, moving them like he was having a silent, depressed conversation before finally making a strangled declaration. "I figured it out," he barked, before finally cracking and laughing at himself.