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[ Leaning against the counter still, Arthur watches the corgi mildly, a half successful effort not to tense as much as he can't help doing at the point of the trade. He drags his gaze back to the chemist. Whereas he would argue with Eames that it wasn't easy, that he has no idea what it felt like, that if it had just been a lack of a pulse he could have 'lived' with that, he doesn't do anything of the sort in front of Yusuf, just pulling his coffee from behind him, drinking some before saying anything. ]
To be alive again, I traded my sight for thirty-two days and memories - childhood, specifically.
[ To say they weren't important is irrelevant, he thinks, though he can more or less guess the feelings on it. Still, if nothing else, it's one more thing they've tried, tested as to the limits or extent of this place's power. He scowls, thinking he'd like a word a little less supernatural than that. ]
There is no great genius - Post a comment
without a touch of madness