A fish caught on a line. There were a number of methods to reel one in and each had their own particular pro and con. A quick jerk, while potentially landing the fish the quickest had the unfortunate side effect of giving one a very panicked catch, if the line didn't simply snap under the pressure before the prey was caught. Panic the fish enough, and the creature may attempt to run, wearing itself out in the attempt and, once brought onboard, ease of handling was assured.

Still, another, and one that Justin favored in his pursuits, was to reel the fish in nice and slow. Let it have enough slack to feel nothing more than the slight sting of pain from the hook. Give enough hope to the creature that things would be alright. Draw it in until, with a net, the catch is made. The fish, still in shock from the sudden plunge into air, not quite sure of a response.

And that was what he did with Paris. The slack being given as he nuzzled her neck with his lips in response to her words. And then he gave the line a jerk.

Stepping back, he ran a hand through his hair, his eyes not meeting her own. "How do I know, Paris, that you won't go running off to complain to your precious Lucius if I don't always give you all the attention you think you are owed? Do you think it was easy for me to cut ties with you last year?" His eyes moved slowly up to meet her own. "Do you think I wanted to hurt you? I never did. You gave me no other choice."