Eames had no idea the man in front of him was the man with a phony queen he had chased for an evening. He hadn't pursued, darling, not the pursuer. The carnie was a brief stain on the canopy of fall-turned-winter and Eames had half forgotten the experience entirely. Just half, darling. There were moments when Eames liked the idea of the freedom to be entirely as he would.
"How big is she?" Eames said, offhand - or as offhand as Eames presumed to be. "If she's only a mouthful, perhaps they shan't bother." His smile was large and amused and affable. He watched Jeremiah glance back toward the crops of trees.
"The lake? A load of dead fish turned belly up recently, but I wouldn't advise a dip."