Arthur looked up at the hand offered and then, finally, at Eames. For once, Arthur couldn't feel the urge to try and conceal what he was feeling, his eyes naked and unguarded. He was uncertain, unsure. He didn't want to cut ties with Eames, not again. He didn't want a platonic relationship or one filled with animosity. But... he wasn't sure he could go back to the relationship they once had.

He felt like he didn't deserve it. Like Eames should be angry at him, shouldn't want to take him back. In some ways, Arthur vaguely remembered feeling like this as a child - like he should be admonished, not forgiven.

It also might have been a matter of pride. In a lot of ways, Arthur felt defeated in some bizarre way and that going back to Eames would be like "giving in", "giving up" even. It was as ridiculous as it sounded but it was there.

Arthur looked back down, still debating internally and then, when it came, it was more simple than he would have thought. He had kept the sketch. It was so simple. He could have just as easily thrown it away. But he didn't. He kept it. Guess there was more truth in that adage "actions speak louder than words" than Arthur had originally thought.

Also, looking back up at Eames, he'd have to learn to trust him, have some faith in him. Trust that he truly did want Arthur back. That it wasn't some cruel, malicious joke. Eames, from what Arthur remembered, wasn't like that. Had never been like that.

He silently took Eames' hand, his heart skipping a beat, and got to his feet.