"You ever watch Dateline?" Arthur asks, instead of answering. Predictably, the kid shakes his head. "Forensic Files? Unsolved Mysteries?" Arthur tsks, just the way his mother always used to, and is appalled with himself. Eames releases the kid, just as Arthur says, "You should turn off your Xbox once in a while, see what else life—or at the very least basic cable—has to offer."
The kid runs off, hopefully to his class and not security, or a real kidnapping. Eames drops his chin onto Arthur's shoulder, and Arthur shrugs it off.
"You are a rubbish recruiter," Eames says, finally, the corners of his mouth twisted upward. Like the beginning of a joke, like he knows Arthur isn't going to guess the punch line, not this time. He tucks his fingertips back inside Arthur's front pocket to tug him a step closer.
"Don't say recruiter when your hand is in my pants, Eames. That's the most frightening thing some people can imagine."
Eames laughs, and Arthur can hear it this time, but that's okay. He curls his fingers around Arthur's wrist, instead. "We have just scared that boy straight, Arthur. We have preformed a service. Honestly, we should send his parents a bill. We'll charge less than the bond they'd have to take out for his third attempted robbery. It'll be an absolute steal."
"You know your life story is going to end with, 'and they never found the body,' don't you?" He snatches Eames' cigarette, when Eames starts tugging him on again, but he also follows along, so he's pretty sure he's earned it.
"You are the most frightening thing I can imagine," Eames says over his shoulder. He stops mid-step, looking around like he can't decide which way to go. "Thirty minutes," he says decisively, take a left at the Tilt-a-Whirl, "for defending my honor."
"Your logic is flawed," Arthur says, out of habit more than anything. They pass by a booth selling oversized bottles of what is promised to be ice cold beer, and Eames doesn't even slow down. Arthur sighs. "You've have to have honor for someone to defend it."
"Someone?"
"Well, it wouldn't be me," Arthur says, rolling his eyes. He twists his wrist to get Eames to let go, but the crowd starts getting thicker, and Arthur ends up lacing their fingers together just so they don't get separated. Eames' palm is sweating. "I don't even like you all that much," he tells Eames' back.
"Oh," Eames says, looking back, licking his bottom lip all promisingly, "don't I know the truth of that statement." He tugs at Arthur's hand again, until they're side by side, but he doesn't let go. "Let's go find the shoot games, and see if you can live up to my dreams, hm?"
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The kid runs off, hopefully to his class and not security, or a real kidnapping. Eames drops his chin onto Arthur's shoulder, and Arthur shrugs it off.
"You are a rubbish recruiter," Eames says, finally, the corners of his mouth twisted upward. Like the beginning of a joke, like he knows Arthur isn't going to guess the punch line, not this time. He tucks his fingertips back inside Arthur's front pocket to tug him a step closer.
"Don't say recruiter when your hand is in my pants, Eames. That's the most frightening thing some people can imagine."
Eames laughs, and Arthur can hear it this time, but that's okay. He curls his fingers around Arthur's wrist, instead. "We have just scared that boy straight, Arthur. We have preformed a service. Honestly, we should send his parents a bill. We'll charge less than the bond they'd have to take out for his third attempted robbery. It'll be an absolute steal."
"You know your life story is going to end with, 'and they never found the body,' don't you?" He snatches Eames' cigarette, when Eames starts tugging him on again, but he also follows along, so he's pretty sure he's earned it.
"You are the most frightening thing I can imagine," Eames says over his shoulder. He stops mid-step, looking around like he can't decide which way to go. "Thirty minutes," he says decisively, take a left at the Tilt-a-Whirl, "for defending my honor."
"Your logic is flawed," Arthur says, out of habit more than anything. They pass by a booth selling oversized bottles of what is promised to be ice cold beer, and Eames doesn't even slow down. Arthur sighs. "You've have to have honor for someone to defend it."
"Someone?"
"Well, it wouldn't be me," Arthur says, rolling his eyes. He twists his wrist to get Eames to let go, but the crowd starts getting thicker, and Arthur ends up lacing their fingers together just so they don't get separated. Eames' palm is sweating. "I don't even like you all that much," he tells Eames' back.
"Oh," Eames says, looking back, licking his bottom lip all promisingly, "don't I know the truth of that statement." He tugs at Arthur's hand again, until they're side by side, but he doesn't let go. "Let's go find the shoot games, and see if you can live up to my dreams, hm?"