He used to have one. He turned it into a toy, is all.
[ Eames corrects wryly, rolling his shoulders as he shuts the door behind them once they're both fully inside, locking it with a turn of the bolt. He leans back against it, then, unbuttoning a few of the fastenings at his collar even further as he gazes at Yusuf, then Arthur, then back to Yusuf again. ]
no subject
[ Eames corrects wryly, rolling his shoulders as he shuts the door behind them once they're both fully inside, locking it with a turn of the bolt. He leans back against it, then, unbuttoning a few of the fastenings at his collar even further as he gazes at Yusuf, then Arthur, then back to Yusuf again. ]
Where should we start, then? Tea, Yusuf?