Arthur still planned on going out but wanted a minute to collect himself, not believing this. Any of this. He checked his die again and he nearly threw it across the room in frustration. It was like the more he tried to resist Eames, the more everything around him kept pushing them together. It made him want to just get the fuck out of Dodge. It was just pure instinct for him to resist something outside of him trying to get him to do something he didn't want to do. He didn't want to be with Eames... Right? They had already been down that road and saw how it ended. Why the fuck would they need to do that again?
He needed to get out, go for a walk, get away for a few hours. He grabbed his dark brown leather jacket and headed out. When he closed his door, he paused, hand still on the handle, seeing the piece of paper. He looked around before grabbing it and was frozen to the spot, staring at the sketch that Eames had obviously made while he had been at the cafe.
"Goddammit." He mumbled as he could feel this small ache in his chest grow larger the longer he looked at the sketch and remembered. A part of him wanted to crumble it up and throw it away but... the other part, that didn't want to do that, won out. He cursed under his breath again - at himself and at Eames - and folded it back up, putting it in his jeans pocket and walked down the hall (shooting a glare at Eames' door as he passed) and towards the elevators.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2010-10-27 04:06 am (UTC)He needed to get out, go for a walk, get away for a few hours. He grabbed his dark brown leather jacket and headed out. When he closed his door, he paused, hand still on the handle, seeing the piece of paper. He looked around before grabbing it and was frozen to the spot, staring at the sketch that Eames had obviously made while he had been at the cafe.
"Goddammit." He mumbled as he could feel this small ache in his chest grow larger the longer he looked at the sketch and remembered. A part of him wanted to crumble it up and throw it away but... the other part, that didn't want to do that, won out. He cursed under his breath again - at himself and at Eames - and folded it back up, putting it in his jeans pocket and walked down the hall (shooting a glare at Eames' door as he passed) and towards the elevators.
He definitely needed to get out for a few hours.