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( Hope is a terrible thing and usually Eames likes to ignore it altogether. He's had far too many mishaps, far too much disappointment in his life. He can be practical, and he can wing it with daredevil gungho, but hoping is useless. Unfortunately around Arthur it tends to bloom sharply. The offer, such as it is, makes something flip over in his stomach and when he smiles this time the edges have been rubbed away. )
I'd like that.
( He doesn't press for anything, not straight away at least. At least they've reached an agreement on trying more. Instead Eames sips at his beer and watches Arthur from across the table. )
I saw the Domkirkeodden while I was away. I kept thinking of how much you'd like it. Thought about sending a postcard, but by then I'd picked up something of a tail. Maybe when I go back, you could join me?
( He says it easily, like it's an offhand offer. It's not, but he has to pretend some things. )
I'd like that.
( He doesn't press for anything, not straight away at least. At least they've reached an agreement on trying more. Instead Eames sips at his beer and watches Arthur from across the table. )
I saw the Domkirkeodden while I was away. I kept thinking of how much you'd like it. Thought about sending a postcard, but by then I'd picked up something of a tail. Maybe when I go back, you could join me?
( He says it easily, like it's an offhand offer. It's not, but he has to pretend some things. )
Pft.
( It comes out soft, because Arthur's arm around his stomach has a soothing weight that Eames had not anticipated before. His pulse picks up regardless, but the rest of him feels secure. He even feels his eyes closing, fingers drifting to rub a pattern over the bony knob of Arthur's wrist before they fall to the mattress again. )
As if they'd question how you know. You're the keeper of secrets, darling. You could say anything you wanted about me and they'd assume you were just clever enough to steal the answers.
( He's a house surrounded by a forest of lies and yet Arthur still manages to creep in. )
( It comes out soft, because Arthur's arm around his stomach has a soothing weight that Eames had not anticipated before. His pulse picks up regardless, but the rest of him feels secure. He even feels his eyes closing, fingers drifting to rub a pattern over the bony knob of Arthur's wrist before they fall to the mattress again. )
As if they'd question how you know. You're the keeper of secrets, darling. You could say anything you wanted about me and they'd assume you were just clever enough to steal the answers.
( He's a house surrounded by a forest of lies and yet Arthur still manages to creep in. )
1. So some guy thought I took second place in a male stripper competition
2. Do you remember standing up at 3 in the morning and asking me if I was counting to six?
3. If you wanna do actual business call my office. If you’re just looking to get laid you need to up your game
4. No but don’t worry about it. I do my best work in the middle of the night. I’m like a hamster.
2. Do you remember standing up at 3 in the morning and asking me if I was counting to six?
3. If you wanna do actual business call my office. If you’re just looking to get laid you need to up your game
4. No but don’t worry about it. I do my best work in the middle of the night. I’m like a hamster.
None of them are my mother.
[ Hell, he doesn't even tell her where he's going like 99% of the time. ]
No, I got bored and left. Not everything is high octane dream walking.
[ Hell, he doesn't even tell her where he's going like 99% of the time. ]
No, I got bored and left. Not everything is high octane dream walking.
Would create just as many. Imagine how many people would have scrambled eggs for a mind if a bunch of amateurs were allowed to walk loose.
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