"Couldn't be tempted to keep fucking doing it, you'd run out of footwear and make my life a misery, mm?" Instead of looking up, he looks down, at Arthur's hand on his wrist, the part where they're connected and it's fitting, somehow.

"Years ago my mother went into hospital on Christmas Eve, she didn't come back out again. The anniversary - " Eames sighs, soft and a little bit still frayed out at the edges, "It's in a couple of weeks. I didn't expect you or Ariadne to notice the fact that I turn into a lunatic at this time of the year and then you did and -. Usually I go somewhere nobody knows me, I drink for the whole sodding month, smoke myself dry, fuck up, and then get over it."