As it ought to be meaning, you can switch to and from at will?

[ Unless Eames has a specific penchant for wearing Yusuf's clothing, Yusuf can't imagine why he'd just be walking around in a forge's skin. Not, mind you, that Yusuf is in any way complaining. ]

That's right.

Other than the lack of apparent day time, it doesn't seem to be much different from those previous weekends.

[ As if on cue, or perhaps simply from the mention of the darkness, Yusuf yawns, wiping at his eyes once the yawn passes. ]

And you decided to put on your best face to come wake me up; my friend, you are far too considerate for the company you keep.

Thought I would be nice, while I still have the ability.

[ He rifles through the kurta to reach his pockets of his pajama bottoms, retrieving a rumpled pack of cigarettes and a lighter before leaning over Yusuf to shove open the window. The night brings a cool breeze into the room, and Eames inhales deeply, slipping the end of one between his teeth, working on lighting it with a few flicks of the fresh zippo. ]

Rather miss it. Dreaming.

Ultimately, you will find, I am not complaining.

[ There is a tilted head at the sight of the fag, a brilliant white in the darkness of the room- as if acknowledging just how out of place it is in the fingers of the woman in front of him. Perhaps it "doesn't count" when it's in a dream, but of all the times Yusuf has seen those blunt fingertips roll the packed tobacco between them, he's never seen the other actually light up. Reaching out to touch the hand sparking the lighter's flint, Yusuf can't help the way worry bleeds into his voice as he reminds, ]

Eames, we are dreaming.

Edited 2011-10-21 01:00 am (UTC)

[ Eames pauses. ] No- I know that, Yusuf, I meant...

[ He rubs at his brow, and in a few blinks of the eye it's back to his natural split hairs of his eyebrow. Fag finally lit up, he takes a slow drag, cheeks hollowing. It's another exhale before he continues. ] I meant, it's not much of a proper dream, is it?

Edited 2011-10-21 01:43 am (UTC)

At times it certainly has all the trappings of a 'proper dream', as you say. But there absence of light, [ Yusuf gestures out the window, wondering for a split second whether the perpetual night has affected Arthur's horrible sleep schedule at all. ] Or presence of whatever else, does seem worryingly orchestrated.

It's difficult to find explanations for all that's going on here. I've been here for apparent- [ He flicks the tip of his cigarette toward the window, letting whatever small amount of ash collected fall away. ] Seven months, is it, and I've gotten no closer.

I'd hoped it was a natural dream of sorts, at first. [ Though that'd quickly been struck out of the question. Not with Arthur as he is. ]

When I think I have an explanation, however farfetched, it inevitably resolves into nothing more than circumstance.

You thought this a dream of your own making? [ Interested, Yusuf recalls Eames' particular reputation. Not just a forger but The Forger. Though he's sure the unspoken invitation has been there, to enter the other's mind when he's supine on a cot with the heat of Mombasa pressing spots of sweat onto his patterned shirts, he's never taken the invitation. Yusuf is not a dreamer, and he has always known his limits. ]

The natural sort, without all the mechanics, yes. I've never quite been a naturally lucid dreamer, you know, so the lack of control here, the lack of- well, anything, and my last memory being of my hotel room, it was a first thought.

[ He takes another long drag, shuffling around on the bed a bit to prop his back against the window sill where the bed is tucked against, legs draping across Yusuf's sheeted ones. ] What else was I to think, a place like this?