Re: Eames/Holly: dreaming Captain was older now. The vestiges of childhood clung to him, the softness at his cheekbones and chin, the thick solidness of him but he was older and E imagined this was closer to the person who was submerged in sleep and whose mind cradled portals and men who swung wild and drunk in one like cupped hands around an egg. E didn't think about the Captain's view of his bruises, they were there because E was far enough under that suggestion was convenient and suggestion was a shiver into being and he was young because the Captain was and that was all that mattered.
They were of an age now. E was whippet-thin, wiry and sinew. He hadn't the muscle yet, nor was he well-fed enough to pack on breadth as well as height. He had the nervy energy of a youth who wasn't really to be trusted and he crammed in alongside the Captain companionably to look at the portal, much like a tiger sidling along beside a cat.
He saw the plan wink across the Captain's face. Calculating he might be, but E was used to seeing flaws and holes and problems. "No," E said matter-of-factly. "Both or neither."