Eames didn't know Jeremiah from Adam, but he knew he had his interest like the tightening of a fishing line. It wasn't difficult, darling. New in town and ripe to be overwhelmed. His world wasn't Jeremiah's, he was willing to bet deeply. There were a coagulation of memories that he didn't pick at too often. Eames was alone in town. No one from the world before the clinic had washed up on these shores.
Eames didn't occupy the book shop. He didn't read as a general rule but he listened to books, now and again. He had trouble concentrating on them for too long. He looked along the length of the road and pointed in the vague direction of the woods. He knew it for the party that had taken place in there under the auspices of charity, and because of the rumors buried in its depths.
"It was destroyed because there was a noise," Eames said simply, falling into (lengthy) step. He was all leg, and the stride was long and the pace punishing if you lacked the biological advantage. "A lot of noise. FEMA descended, it was all very unorthodox. There are wolves in there. The people kind."