[The narration protests the pun. Mista, on the other hand, only takes a second to process before lighting up and shooting Ryuji double fingerguns and a wink.]

[What a bastard.]

Yeah, gimme.

[Ryuji's reward for shitty puns is an eager assistant. Mista flops down on the ground, getting his stupid ugly pants dirty as God intended, and grabs the rod, giving it a look-over.]

This shit's like Christmas lights, isn't it. No matter how good you put it away, it ends up a mess later. Lemme see . . . [He starts picking at the tangles, a hyperfocused expression on his face. Gotta fix. Gotta fish.]

Where'd you learn to fish, anyway? I'm a fucking disgrace, I come from a port city and I can't fish for beans.