"Sure," Tony insisted in a blatant lie, so unnecessarily offended by Susan's questioning. He leaned back until he landed on his butt so that he might pull off his boots and socks, but kept his gloves in case whatever was waiting for them down there bit back. He wasn't sure what was so funny about Reed never taking her swimming-- what a jackass, didn't he realize the bikini, lotion and slippery soaked ogling possibilities?-- but he supposed if he were Sue he'd have to be an optimist about these things. Then again, if he were Sue, he would have ditched Reed long ago for A-Rod.
Once on his feet, Tony gave one last prayer that it really wasn't as cold as it seemed to be before diving in head first. Fuck, it was cold-- so cold it just about shocked the air out of him, but his goal was literally a shining beacon that he could rapidly kick towards to end this torture as quickly as possible. As long as there weren't any snakes or eels or something that were creepy-crawly enough to survive the plague.