neededforger | (no subject)

Eames could have gone back to Mombasa, he knew he could have, and he could have gone right back to what he'd been doing when Cobb came to find him. But he'd decided not to, after all, it had been a while since he'd been stateside, and he didn't have anyone breathing down his neck (yet) and it had also been a while since he'd gone to visit his mum, so he figured he'd stick around for a while, do some sightseeing.

The first thing to do, after debarking, and being careful not to pay attention to any of his compatriots, at least not actively, and never with more than the faint, gentle recognition of people who'd just spent more time in a plane together than most people spent together at work in a day. He paged through his phone, checking his funds, not at all surprised to find that Saito was a man of his word, and they'd already been paid.

The next thing he did, while waiting for his checked baggage to come around on the carousel, was to check mid-range hotels in the area, looking for one that had a week's vacancy at such short notice, since that was the minimum he was going to need to wait for the world to settle again and start looking for another job. Booking didn't take long either, which he was pleasantly surprised by.

That evening he found himself in the restaurant down the block from the hotel, enjoying a celebratory steak dinner, and collecting details. The way that woman folded her hands, the way that man held his knife and fork, the way the bartender smiled at one of the waitresses. Each of these, and others, were stored away for later perusal, practice, and eventual use. He didn't always have to forge someone in particular, sometimes he just had to be a person other than who he was, background, security and observation and those little details could make or break a character.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Eames had always said to his defense that he had been roaringly drunk, and for that matter they both had, and he'd erased the pictures again the very next day, aside from the one that he'd later sketched because he couldn't not, the expanse of Arthur's bare back was just too pretty not to save for posterity.

He nodded, mulling that over, "Spite and porn, mostly, I believe." He said, though he was still smiling. He had a feeling that he was going to be smiling a lot more in the days to come, and at the moment he couldn't make himself feel that that was a bad thing.

To Eames' defense Arthur had always responded that it didn't matter how drunk either of them had been - nor did it matter how much Arthur had grown to enjoy those surprisingly spectacular bouts of drunken sex - that did not give Eames permission to take pictures of it afterward.

Nodding again, allowing his own smile to grow a little wider, "That sounds about right for you."

There was the laugh again, low and rolling and almost tactile, just a little more rare than the occasional, sudden burst of laughter that Ariadne had been so good at getting from him, he'd quipped once that she was the precocious little sister he'd never known he'd wanted.

"Well I'm certainly glad of that." He said, cocking his head in what was almost a shrug, "Should hate to think I'm losing my touch with my roots."

Arthur hadn't heard that particular laugh in quite a while. Hearing it then had sent a tingle down the back of his neck.

"I could tell you hadn't changed much when you walked back into the warehouse with Dom."

Eames just smiled again, shaking his head and settling himself more comfortably on the couch once more, taking up more space, somehow, than he ought to have been able to, "Was I really that obvious? Hm, I'll have to work on that." His tone, however, belied the fact that he probably wasn't going to, not even a little.

Shaking his head, but smiling, "No you won't."

Yes, Arthur was staying in his own space on the couch, still feeling a little too tense to do much else.

He laughed again, shaking his head once more, still resisting (at least for the moment) the urge to reach over and ruffle Arthur's hair, "Yes, well, you know that, and I know that, but no one else needs to, you see?"

"But of course, that would ruin all your fun." Oh yes, Arthur did know Eames pretty well. And now, sitting on the couch with him like this - not focusing so much on projecting hostility or disinterest but just allowing himself to be with the other man - a lot of their year together kept coming back to him.

It all just served to show that he had not been nearly as willing to let go of Eames as much as he thought he had. That wasn't very easy to admit to, for him, but it was pretty undeniable by now.