"Stop talking about the fucking hat," Eames shot back, narrowing his eyes a little and fixing his gaze on Arthur, it's still hazy, still a little like it wants to break off and like he still wants to just escape but he's not moving, "It was stupid, Arthur. Everything was stupid. And then you were angry on my behalf and I just - I would've told you I was glad. That you were back in my bloody life. How fucking pathetic is that? How fucking pathetic am I?"

He crosses his arm over his knee, drawing them up so he can tap a rhythm on his knee. "The thing is - the thing is that everyone's right. I do care, I care too much. It's - I don't even fucking mind, you know? I don't want anything from you. This isn't - I just. Your fucking shoes Arthur, you ruined your shoes. They were nice shoes."