It is on the cold side, but Sam isn't overly bothered by that, nor does he have to wade too far after the soccer ball. His jeans will be wet, but he ought to have expected as much, really, and at least it's only to his knees or so. Any farther out and he'd still have gone for it anyway, but he knows full well that wet denim won't dry easily, and he's privately a little grateful that he can grab the ball before he winds up having to sit around in soaking wet jeans all day.

With Jordan at the shore, toes just at the edge of the water, Sam smiles, holding the ball up as he returns to the rest of the group. "Mission accomplished," he calls, making sure he's fully clear of the pull of the waves, tromping back up to drier sand, before he sets the ball down again. "Though I don't know whose point that would be. I think this game works better on land."