Earache More Condition_treatment

loss, curious, startled him enough to pull the trigger.

* Origin work will change, but Arthur only realize how much the next time you should shoot in the head Eames. Duda, just a second, but why doubt
shit? It is almost a routine extraction, by practice and habit rather than necessity and inconvenience of too damn simple projections. But doubt. Eames bleeding on the pavement and only his expression surprised, curious, startled him enough to pull the trigger.
projections rotate around, eyes fixed on the body (not really a corpse, shit - shit ), still suspicious, butnon-violent. Arthur closed his eyes, breathe deeply and wait.

- I did not know you cared -. It's the first thing you hear, serious, funny and too slow, like through a wall of water.
shakes his head slowly and low hand to his pocket, pressing the die. What was that? What the fuck was that, Arthur, dammit?

- Honestly, it's a compliment - one hand on your wrist back so startled and turned to meet head-Eames, frowning, but smiling, between funny and serious, taking the needle gently -. All right, honey?
- Do we have what we need? - Look away, swallowing the urge to punch him. Ariadne's est

wrinkled eyes staring, biting his laughter. Dom has his eye glued to the landscape in motion, too neutral. The Subject (Adrien Ronson, 34, lawyer, cheating husband, future father) snoring on the train noise. - Yes - she mumbles - "All right?

- Perfect. Ariadne exchanged an amused glance with Dom and out first, with most of the team. Only then Arthur realizes that Eames still has a hand around his wrist.

- Anything you want me? - Eames has his head slightly bowed, looking for the subtle something in his face.

Arthur shrugs, too aware that Eames is the best at what he does (his own work to be aware of CHTMLXistancia and then to think about what he really thinks, practically nothing is remembering when Mal was shot, though it was, it was not bad really. Christ was

Dom. God.

Rest your head on the cold window and hits a couple of times, each time the car jumps. Just a couple of times, Eames is a disturbingly driver caution, considering his ... whole personality, honestly. Arthur

tour the die between your fingers until the knuckles go to sleep. It focuses on what he touches: one, three, five, six, four, three ...


Unocincotresseistresdosunocincocuatro ...


- Honey - Eames her hair scrambles - Are you sleeping? "Seriously? Arthur

gives an irritated look and immediately arranged embarrassingly clumsy fingers.

- does not mean that I like - mutters through his teeth, hissing a little. Eames

concerned makes a noise. The street lamps flicker mark their silhouette. Arthur returns to look at the way the other side. - does not mean that I like - repeat, trying to explain, because sometimes Eames is a bit stupid -. That I care.

Eames turned to him sharply, but Arthur does not deign to lift his head. Not even when fingers are entangled with his, on his knee and begins to whistle Eames La Vie En Rose. Arthur shakes hands until you are sure to be doing damage, butEames whistles only sharper and tune, and between laughter.

When she wakes up under blankets and Eames is on them, snoring slowly, his head buried in the pillow. Can not remember how she got there and the room is an almost exact reproduction of three or four rooms that have already been. Take a stupid, irritating, utterly inexplicable

moment just to see how Eames breathe. Is losing his mind, is definitive. Then he sits down, orders his hair a little, frowning into his suit and drop their given on the bedside table, again and again, distractedly.

- Is it so hard to believe you're attracted to me? - Eames's voice surprisesnde again pressed against the pillow and rough, sleepy. Laughter is also there -. And that I've been a gentleman.

- That's the hard part to believe - easily answered, turning. Eames is laughing, but for once, does not seem to laugh at him. Arthur returns to get under the blankets. It's raining outside and the windows cold seeps wet, nasty. - I'm glad that my effort is appreciated - Eames continued, no more alert tone, but more fun - Breakfast?

- No, thanks.

- Vale - Eames feel when he is covered - Pancakes? Arthur

pressed his face against the pillow and growls something irreproducible. Eames
laughs and kisses himtries to convince his subconscious that does not know.
*