He regards the cigarette with a faint frown, torn. On one hand, this might be a kind of 'rite of passage' thing, some unspoken social expectation down here. On the other, sticking someone else's cigarette in his mouth right after taking a swim through the Atlantic Ocean seems like a very bad decision, hygienically.

He's also at the bottom of the ocean, talking to a drunk. Maybe hygiene is off the table at this point.

He accepts it, and snorts softly.

"You mean alcohol?" he says, raising an eyebrow. "You're welcome to it. I can't drink any, anyway."

Stealing, on the other hand, is a much less appealing prospect, especially if Tim's stuck here.

"Any kinds of jobs or things around here?" he hazards.