[There's something behind the smile, something Carson probably notices but Rodney certainly isn't going to explain. He'd mentioned the fishing for a dual purpose - guilt, of course, and a desire to right previous wrongs, but also to suss out whether Carson knows exactly why he suggested fishing. If he understands.

After all, the Carson on the pier with him hadn't been there, not really. He'd been in Rodney's head, telling him what he wanted...no, needed to hear. This is no hallucination, no self-comforting fantasy. This is Carson, real and palpable and rambling away in a thick Scottish accent about poisonous leeches and crustaceans. The reaction, or rather, non-reaction, makes Rodney think that perhaps the reassurance from the real Carson won't be coming any time soon. After all, he's not going to be the one to spoil that particular future for him.

Rodney swallows hard, still smiling, and shaking his head.]

They do. It almost drives me crazy, honestly, I've been pulling just as many all-nighters here as I did back home. No stimulants though, you'll be glad to hear. They seem to be against that too.

[A deep breath, and then he continues.]

We'll definitely go fishing. This weekend. No backing out.