[Sam might be a bit calmer if this wasn't all weird to start with. If it didn't remind her of too much weird stuff. She's not happy. If mama ain't happy, as they say...]

Why do I suddenly feel like a piece of tackle waiting for a big fish to come up and eat me? That reminds me of the worst of Pops' bait-ripples way back when he'd take me fishing when I was a little girl...

[Sam is still fairly young, sure, as these things go, but she's been Daddy's little disappointment for a while now, too...]