Oh, don't complain. I'm sure people would kill for your genetic makeup. Just wait until your face looks like peeling paint on an abandoned piss stained wall, then you'll miss those days where you constantly had to whip out your I.D.

( Arthur's face is lovely. Eames doesn't even think that old age would suit Arthur poorly. He's probably going to be stunning up until the worms start eating him.

It isn't fair. For several reasons.

Eames listens as Arthur talks, surprise crossing his face. His mouth eases into a smile, something fond and sweet. He's pleased for Arthur. )

Really? I always thought you'd be the type to vacation while a team of skilled employees did the dirty work. ( A pause. ) No, of course you'd probably stay behind hovering over everyone's shoulder making sure they did their job with precision.

( Of course he's a DIY man. )