A/N: This came from my sister playing TPL and ranting at the telly about the Fisherman's commentary putting her off, as she tried to catch two hundred pounds of fish. She actually ended up having to mute it.
It was miraculous, the blonde managing to maintain expert concentration and ignoring the annoying commentary for a full minute so far – although sadly could do so no longer. An eel, black and hot pink in colour, slithered into the net with incredible determination that forced Jak to wonder why that particular river had been chosen to catch food. Surely there were easier spots?
I've got to start all over again.
"Ya got to do better than that!" the Fisherman bellowed from barely three feet away.
Grip on the fishing net's handle tightening, the boy's knuckles paled. It's not my fault. Like he can do better with his empty basket and bad breath and fat gut and…
"Let's go again!" Daxter called, injecting an inhuman level of enthusiasm into his voice. Bright orange fur prickling and body tense, he wished people wouldn't goad his best friend like that. The latter wasn't brilliant when it came to tasks such as these, yet the timing simply hadn't been right this time. Next try. He'll get it next try.
With a deep breath and refocusing his mind, Jak gave a grateful smile. His grip loosened on the pole in his hands and he once more knelt at the edge of the wooden bridge, arms outstretched. Counting backwards from three, he then dipped it back into the water.
"There's a big one!"
Again, concentration was utterly lost. Several eels were wriggling around in the net now. Quickly shaking them out, the blonde shot to his feet and glowered at the big-bellied man – who sadly did not take the hint.
"Why'd yer stop, boy? You'll never catch fish like that!" the latter guffawed.
That was the final straw.
"OH, MY GOD! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?" Jak screamed at the top of his lungs. "I HAD IT JUST NOW, THEN YOU RUINED EVERYTHING!" The intense grip on the fishing net splintered the wood of its handle and it was snapped across his knee, bits of timber tossed onto the bridge. "YOU CAN DO IT YOURSELF!" He turned on his heel and stomped away.
Whether Daxter liked it or not, he was dragged along on the shoulder plate. Maybe we do somethin' else today and go back to it…
The Fisherman blinked hard, looking in stunned silence, before turning his gaze to the remains of his 'lucky' fishing net and empty basket. There was a shake of the head. "That one's got a temper. It'll get him into trouble one day…"