( It's akin to being shot, the sudden and sharp breathlessness that strikes through his ribs. Arthur has never smiled like that, or at least if he had it hadn't been in Eames' presence. It's gorgeous, and it makes his fingers itch for a pencil for the first time in years. When was the last time he sketched something for the joy of it? Lifetimes ago, probably.
His own smile is softer then, leaning on the table top with his fingers loosely around his pint glass. When the offer comes, they twitch slightly. )
Yeah? ( Did he die in a fiery plane crash? ) All right. I'd like that. I'll even lend you my muscles for some heavy lifting, if you'd like.
( He wonders what a space like that will be like. It feels like the chance to finally figure out who Arthur really is. )
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Date: 2018-07-10 05:33 pm (UTC)His own smile is softer then, leaning on the table top with his fingers loosely around his pint glass. When the offer comes, they twitch slightly. )
Yeah? ( Did he die in a fiery plane crash? ) All right. I'd like that. I'll even lend you my muscles for some heavy lifting, if you'd like.
( He wonders what a space like that will be like. It feels like the chance to finally figure out who Arthur really is. )