These sad, stunted little creatures drift around aimlessly, gaping their tiny mouths at any particles they can snap up. No lure, no gnashing maws, not even much camouflage; they're basically helpless minnows destined to lead brief little lives. That is, unless they can find a female. The relationship between angler genders is less like an egalitarian romance and more like parasitism, you see. ...Exactly like parasitism, really.
Upon meeting a female of his kind, (he can sense her from quite a distance via pheromones,) the male rushes to her side... and burrows into it. He attaches himself to her body, clinging to her with every ounce of his strength until the skin between them begins to disintegrate. Blood vessels mix, reproductive cells are exchanged and before long the male is nothing but a fleshy lump on his mate's hide, having dissolved away into nothing but a pair of gonads. His brain, bones, and G.I. tract all melt away into the female's bloodstream, leaving her with a convenient packet of sperm to be accessed whenever it's time for a new clutch of eggs.
|The femme fatale herself.|