You gonna jump?

I'm walking back to my hotel when a light mist begins to fall. I love the feeling of rain on my face. I head across the street to look at the river below. Head raised, the cleansing rain falling over me.
"You gonna jump?"
The question comes out of nowhere, my attention focused river below. It takes a few seconds for the voice to seep through my illusion filters and register as an actuality, something about falling rain fills my head with static noise."Well, you gonna jump?" He's wearing a nylon windbreaker, drawstring hood loosely tied sheltering his face from the rain. He wasn't there before.
"Just watching the water go by," I reply, looking him over, trying to translate his body language; did he form a query or a command?
"Well, if you're gonna jump, this one's not high enough. Fremont's high enough but there's no sidewalk, you'll get run down by a car before you're halfway there."
He's doing a weird little loose-hipped dance while he's talking, quickly shuffling his feet side by side. It's not until he jabs at the air that I recognize a boxer's shadow routine, something I saw in a movie once, maybe it was Rocky...
"Historically, Vista is the way to go, ya know."
"Um thanks, I'll keep that in mind."
"Well, see you later. Stay dry." He does another quick one-two with his fists and jogs off.Good advice too late. I feel as if I'm vertically swimming through rain, "See you," I returned to his receding silhouette.