[ Eames steps in and Arthur follows, the hotel door shutting with a solid click behind him. He sets the plant on the nearby desk, brushes a little flake of ash off one of the leaves; it's green, healthy, and he has an overwhelming swell of affection for Eames.
It's mixed with residual panic. And after his seemingly nonchalant comment, something in him just. Snaps clean.
Arthur whirls on him, fingers curling into the front of his shirt and holding tightly. ]
You—
[ The word starts off sharp and ends strangled. He drops his gaze to the floor, loosens his grip on Eames' shirt but doesn't let go. ]
Jesus Christ, Eames.
[ So maybe his voice wavers a little, worry seeping through. ]
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Date: 2018-05-28 09:21 am (UTC)It's mixed with residual panic. And after his seemingly nonchalant comment, something in him just. Snaps clean.
Arthur whirls on him, fingers curling into the front of his shirt and holding tightly. ]
You—
[ The word starts off sharp and ends strangled. He drops his gaze to the floor, loosens his grip on Eames' shirt but doesn't let go. ]
Jesus Christ, Eames.
[ So maybe his voice wavers a little, worry seeping through. ]