Talking with James now, when he wasn't drunk and he wasn't acting like a prick, he was a fairly decent guy. He had a sense of humor (not much of one, but at least he had one). He had a nice smile, though sometimes if taken in the wrong way it looked creepy. James reminded Fisher of the boys he went to high school with that everyone longed to be, Fisher included. He'd watch the popular guys get all the girls and just coast through life on their charm. And then college would hit and you'd see beneath the veneer that they were just shallow and mean for no good reason.
"You're a little uptight," Fisher teased. "Anyone who wears clothes that neatly pressed just to go out drinking is a little uptight." He grinned, so James would know he was teasing him and not let him tamper flare up. And possibly blacken one of Fisher's eyes.
"Why not?' Fisher agreed, in regards to swimming. "It's hotter than hell out here. 'Sides, cool water might sober me up some." Pulling himself upright, Fisher tugged off his sweatshirt and tossed it over his head. Even in the low light, James would be able to see the gnarled track marks that were stamped all over Fisher's arm, particularly the left. Most days Fisher never let anyone see his bare arms, but he was drunk, so wooo!
It took a few tries to get his jeans off, since they were tight fitting and dexterity is something you need to maneuver buttons and zippers well, and also the first thing you lose while drinking. But off they came, and clad in a brand spakin' new pair of maroon boxer briefs, Fisher headed out to see at a pace close enough to a run.
"Fuck!" he yelled when he was up to his knees in the water. He turned back to James and cupped his hands around his mouth like a megaphone. "It is notwarm!!"