One seabird notices another seabird looking lonely. It approaches, asks the other if it is OK. The other responds that no, it isn't, but thanks for asking.
I need someone to come fishing with me, says the first seabird, because I don't do very well by myself. Would you like to come?
OK, says the other.
After an hour fishing, the first is becoming despondent, having caught little more than a few specks of plankton, and some algae that tasted a bit off.
The second, on the other hand, appears to be capable of catching anything that moves. It stops its hunt, however, when it notices the first seabird hovering hungrily over the water.
The second seabird makes one final dive, rises from the surf with a fish nearly the size of its wingspan, and makes its way over to the first.
Here, the second seabird says, I'd like you to have this.
The first seabird doesn't smile, but only because beaks aren't really set up for that sort of thing.
But thank you, the seabird says.
Once their fishing trip is done with, the pair of them fly back towards the shore; wingtips nearly touching, forms swaying the same way in the breeze.