Conner glanced at Clark and blinked, his brow furrowing. "What?" He tilted his head. He slipped his phone in his pocket and shook his head. "No," he said. "I mean would I rather be hanging out with my friends than fishing?" He gave him a look of guilt. "Well, yes, but would I rather be with you than them? Yes." He hoped Clark believed him and he hoped that this wouldn't mean the end of them spending time together. "We didn't have to come fishing, though," he said. "We could've..." He shrugged. "Played baseball." His brow furrowed. "That's what they do, right?" He glanced. "Normal people? Like on TV? They play catch?" Fathers and sons? Conner looked away and ran his fingers through his hair before readjusting the red cap he'd brought with him for their little excursion. "You like baseball, right?"
He chewed his bottom lip. "It's so quiet," he said, "and it's a lot of waiting." He scratched his nose. "I don't do well sitting in one place for too long." He paused. "I spent a lot of time in one place, waiting." Conner shrugged. "It's not about you." He held up his rod, though. "But I'm here," he said offering him a smile before glancing at the water. "I don't think I'm going to catch anything, though."