Purring, Fisher nodded. "Skid row was too good for me m'afraid," he admitted, confirming James' belief about him. "Ahm so far down the shite river, might as well've been in New Jersey."
Since there was nothing else to do, and since James wasn't hitting him yet, Fisher plunked down on the couch where James was, his arms spreading over the arm and across the back. "I like you," he decided, his accent fading a little. "You're not as annoying as the guy on the other side of him." 'Him' being Fisher. According to his brain, this was a possession, some British bloke taking over to handle the abject fear of coming face to face with the most violent person in the ward.