"Uncle Boo, have you caught any fish?" A teenage boy with short blonde hair asked.
"Kids these days have no patience," a man, who seemed to be in his late forties, muttered. "Listen here, kiddo. Fishing is not just about catching fish. It's a spiritual act that allows you to temper your willpower, as well as your mental strength."
"… Uncle, it's okay. We will share the fish we caught with you," the teenage boy said with a wry smile on his face. "I mean, all of us have already caught more than thirty fish. It's alright even if you couldn't catch any, you know?"
The middle-aged man, whom the boy called Uncle Boo, lightly cleared his throat before shooing the kids away with his hand.
"You guys can go ahead and grill that fish, Lambert," Uncle Boo said. "I'm not hungry yet."
"Okay, if you say so." Lambert nodded. "Guys, pack up. We're going back to the camp."
"Um, aren't you going to try to at least persuade me to come with you guys?"