Fisher took a few tentative steps deeper into the ocean, cringing at the notion that any second now, his junk would be submerged in the chilly Atlantic/Pacific/wherever the hell they were now. "I will not" he shouted back to James. "It's August, you can't catch a cold in August! Besides, I have enough alcohol in me to kill the AIDS virus if it comes 'round." Ugh, that was not even a funny notion. Between the homosexuality (gay men are #1 victims!), the needles and the crappy lifestyle, AIDS had almost been a real possibility a few times. And his immune system was shot, so maybe James had a good point about the cold...
But no. He was going to swim in this ocean, damnit! He was already wet and starting to get used to the water by now. "You sure you don't wanna come?" he called back. "I mean, if I start drowning, how will you heroically save me?"