Re: Eames/Holly: dreaming
A truce was not an alliance. You had to spit-shake on an alliance, or bind it in blood and all of that was very messy. Eames preferred the cleanliness of a good truce, where either of you could twist out of it if it stopped being convenient. It was convenient presently. The boy was small but it was his dream, which meant he could walk about in it with ease and knew the places it was weakest. Eames held out his own hand and shook with solemnity, and the jangle of cheap gold bracelet against his watch.
"Was your captain here before, Mr. H?" H. Something somewhere out in the world. Disguises within disguises, but Eames looked around where the provisions might be, and it was drier, even if his feet were still damp. Eames gleamed a smile nine-tenths pleased with his own luck for falling into good company (and one tenth careful circumspection, given dreaming) and looked interested rather than disturbed at the notion of a portal. It was an abrupt change of genre.
"You can call me E," he offered in exchange and he scanned the chalked schematics, intrigued. It was a dream that opened rather like a flower, with every intention of doing so rather than requiring unfurling. He looked at the boy, bereft of treasure and low on provisions, and he looked around for something heavy to pick up that could be swung. There were, Eames knew from experience, often things to be swung at on a journey deeper. Eames had no doubt it was deeper.
"We could take this route," he traced it carefully with one finger. "Back there, double up through this bit," following it along, it didn't have a label but it looked less expensive, "And up that way. What do you think, Captain H?"