Seated in the small wooden rowboat that drifted lazily over the calm expanse of Stav Lake, Serah and Billy sat side by side, each holding a fishing rod in hand. The gentle creak of the oars echoed faintly, though they had long been drawn in, and now the boat simply floated wherever the current pleased to take it. The lake stretched wide around them—tranquil and endless—its glassy surface reflecting the soft blue of the sky and the faint shimmer of falling autumn leaves that drifted upon the water.
Serah sat upright, the morning breeze tugging at strands of her red hair that had escaped her ponytail. Her brows furrowed slightly as she stared at her fishing line disappearing into the depths of the water, the rod steady in her hands.
"Honestly," she said, breaking the silence, "I still think this is a waste of time."
Billy gave a soft chuckle from beside her, the corner of his lips curling upward as he calmly reeled in and cast again.
