"I hope we're found. Or fishing works. Although it would kind of suck to survive on fish..." How many dishes could he prepare and have them be different by whatever kind of fish was out in the Bermuda Triangle? "Not subscribing to the 'We're Stuck In A Dimensional Sink Hole' theory yet?" He stood up, brushing his jeans off despite how ragged and ripped they were.
Why was he being nice and conversational? He was going to blame it on practicing to be more of a brother than a father figure. That worked.