Re: [Strip club: Nel & Eames]
Eames liked appearance but that was craft, not ego. Well, not the kind of ego found in a mirror. He couldn't play nearly as many games with appearance up awake as he could down below. This woman might not have gone for the blonde. He could have rolled her out with honey on the tongue and pasties on her nips in a scene like this one but it all felt a tiny bit obvious, didn't it, for the woman who was straddling a chair more man than the men on the ones closer to the stage? Either way, the fronds, jellyfish shirt was nine tenths craft and one tenth personal preference and he knew something about switching one genitalia for the next, at least unconscious.
He ignored the prattle, concentrated on the cadence, on the way air moved over the glottis. Funny how air made all the difference, the insubstantial became substantial. Eames liked accents, it was another veil for Salome and her night on the tiles. He collected them. He reached for the glass to his side and he paused fractionally as she told him he wasn't interesting, and both his eyes and his mouth creased with mirth, before he gripped the glass fully.
"Oh no, darling. Any man who sits in a strip club and tries to be interesting for a woman who is clearly there for the other women is either mad or a fool. And that puts to one side that any man who tries to be interesting, well that man's just not interesting at all, is he?" Eames spoke conversationally, with his eyes on the dancers, and a glimpse across to the camera.
"1980s, a reach into the 1990s, the camera, is it? The M6, good for focus, manual exposure, if I'm not wrong. In a place like this, the light has to make that tricky but that camera's a special edition, what were they, a hundred, two hundred in the world? That set you back a chunk of change, but it's not the latest tricks, it's not a point and shoot. So you're good, you know it and you're not unshowy." Eames liked portraits more than most forgers did. In the thick, smoky sound of London softening syllables, he sounded unhurried. Not bored, but Eames was playing, albeit for small change rather than anything meaningful.
He glanced at her. "I like to look at people too. Don't take pictures, all mine are up here." He tapped his temple. Eames finished the contents of the glass and notched it down on the bar behind him. "I'm Eames."