"Jesus Christ," hisses Arthur, lowering his gun, squinting into the darkness. "Who the fuck are you?"
Eames clutches at his face, eyes watering in pain, but remains very, very still. "I think you broke my nose," he offers in a whisper. He feels blood pooling in his mouth, so he swallows.
"Oh," says Arthur, and he must decide Eames isn't the enemy because he lowers his gun. (Or maybe not, because he doesn't flip the safety and it's pointed right at Eames' crotch.) "Sorry."
"You don't sound very sorry," Eames says.
Arthur squints at him again. "No, you're right," he says flatly. "I'm not."
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Date: 2011-11-19 05:00 am (UTC)Eames clutches at his face, eyes watering in pain, but remains very, very still. "I think you broke my nose," he offers in a whisper. He feels blood pooling in his mouth, so he swallows.
"Oh," says Arthur, and he must decide Eames isn't the enemy because he lowers his gun. (Or maybe not, because he doesn't flip the safety and it's pointed right at Eames' crotch.) "Sorry."
"You don't sound very sorry," Eames says.
Arthur squints at him again. "No, you're right," he says flatly. "I'm not."