And now there's a fish thrashing in his hand. 

Michael demonstrates crushing the fish's gills, sending plumes of blood into the water.

Ooooooh.

He silently but obviously dares him to actually bite into his fish.

Oh he's on.

........ew. Eeeeeeeew.

Michael looks smug and gestures towards a rock jutting out the water, swimming towards it and clambering on.

He follows.

"You did good," he says, munching on his prize.

"This tastes disgusting."

"Humans have no taste."

"Blegh."

"Still, fun, right?"

Nod nod.

"And you weren't even like 'this is evil, Michael, why would you do this this for fun?', or anything!"

"...why would I do that it was really cool."

"Fishy sympathisers!"

"Why do you call them fishies?"

"Cause I'm eight."

"So'm I and I call them fish."

"You're not even one."

"So your excuse is even worse."

"What's wrong with calling them that?"

Shrug. "Nothing."

"Maybe some time we could try hunting dolphin."

"Ooooh."