[ Eames takes a sip of his tea, countertop digging into his lower back as he leans back against it, patting his thigh to catch Pancake's attention. When the Corgi waddles over, he crouches down, rubbing the puppy behind his left ear. ] That was the easy part, sans the lack of heart beat.
You ought to tell him of the trade, [ he pipes up, too, on account of memories - the dead part hadn't been the issue at hand, he thinks, when faced with a mechanism that can completely block off a part of your memory system. ]
There is no great genius - Post a comment
without a touch of madness