Scrubbing some of the sand from his almost shoulder-length dirty blond hair, James manages to look thoughtful, posing next to his bright orange surf board so that his smooth, sun-kissed muscles gleam in the morning light. "Like, well, I'm gonna have to vote for Ceralilly guys, cuz like, you know. I'm all, 'what is this, like, high school -- you can't do that in the changing rooms.' Totally, this is why we can't have nice things." Tilting his head to shake the water out of one ear, he grabs his board and heads back towards the surf.