Schiller and Natasha arrived near the farthest ice cave. Schiller set down a chair, pointed at the seat for Natasha, then crossed over the ice cave to set up another chair.
Natasha sat in the first chair, untangling her fishing line as she said, "It was definitely the right choice to be paired with you, Doctor. Those people have been completely swept away by the joy of getting bites. They have no gentlemanly conduct whatsoever."
"You should be tolerant of gentlemen who never have time to fish all year round occasionally showing their wild side." Schiller walked over, picked up his fishing rod, took off his Gauntlet, and began arranging his line.
Natasha appeared to be lowering her eyes as she adjusted her rod, but her attention was actually fixed on Schiller's hands, especially the veins that occasionally stood out on the back of his hand whenever he pulled hard on the line.
"Madam, what do you think of fishing and hunting?" Schiller asked as though casually finding a topic, baiting his hook as he spoke.
"That depends on what form they take." Natasha had already baited her hook and was securing her rod. Her movements paused for a moment, as though recalling something, before she said, "The beauty of fishing lies in waiting, while the beauty of hunting lies in pursuit."
"Generally speaking, I prefer to move, to keep the initiative in my own hands." Natasha wrinkled her nose slightly, and as her upper lip curled, a hint of savage ferocity showed through her lush beauty.
"Or rather, the scent of blood excites me. Crossing streams and thickets, finding every trace that might exist, finally capturing prey on the verge of death, breaking them apart, turning them into my own energy—it is primitive and brutal, but it sends adrenaline