Re: [Strip club: Nel & Eames]
Eames wasn't aware sucking the life from people - literally, rather than metaphorically - was a tool in the toolkit so to speak but the art of killing people managed to be both blunt and subtle. Eames liked most things loud and clear and enjoyable but with death, he liked to get to the bleeding point. It was the same way when he did think about death; far better to go out the quick way than succumb to creativity. he had no strong sentiments about religion. Eames side-stepped the idea of baked-in morality for Sunday breakfast as being of no use to him whatsoever.
Eames was relaxed, and it showed in the incline of his head toward her, the flashed smile that was glint and sly mirth tucked up a sleeve of a very loud shirt. "Does anyone have a right to a dream? You can buy them, pay for them to be built as pretty as you want them to be, but you've no right to someone else's," he said entirely ignoring the plight of flight attendants. He thought he'd prefer being the garbage man, but it was clearer, more honest labor than pretending to be nice to people.
"I like the imperfect," which was not the same as agreeing, and Eames gestured with his hand to the girl on the end. "It's more real. The golden ratio makes people attractive, but it's the imperfections that make them honest, I think. You've heard the story about Persian carpets? Only God was entitled to be perfect and so they'd make one, deliberate flaw in what they made to keep it human." Eames shrugged one beefy shoulder, "I like to think human is more interesting."
He listened to her answer, and there was a glimmer of amusement kept carefully and politely at the door but willing to flash through the gaps. "If the photo is for sale afterwards, I'd like to buy it." He stubbed out his own cigarette, prepared to stand. He didn't ask how much, Eames didn't need to.