Re: [Dream Training]
Eames was folding his cuffs precisely to his elbow on each side, three turns of even width as he listened to Arthur doing it rather well, it had to be said. Even if he'd lost the girl somewhere along the way. Eames's head came up from over his cuffs at the very interesting pause Arthur put into the conversation and he looked if not startled, then something sketching at the edges of surprise, albeit certainly amused surprise.
"I didn't know you had it in you," Eames said approvingly, as he held up his elbow as meekly as a lamb. What Hannah didn't know, nor would she, was that Eames's trust was a relative concept. He trusted Arthur far more than he trusted most in the building to put him under, largely because Arthur had given every indication that Hannah was an asset, and one he wanted Eames to do the heavy lifting with. That meant Arthur intended him to wake, eventually. And they both knew that if Arthur had done anything while Eames was under, Eames would take pleasure in bloody vengeance.
Trust. Relative. "I was in the basement," Eames said cheerfully, as he looked at the slide of needle into the vein. "The subject is whoever you're trying to make dream a certain way. It might be to make them remember something. It might be that you want them to remember something you're putting in there for them to remember. They think they're dreaming, darling. No dreamer, no architect, just an ordinary common or garden dream."
Eames looked with brief alarm at the loss of Arthur's coat. It suggested the man needed room. "You've not changed your mind, have you, darling? You are staying out here." Delicately. The emphasis on 'are'. He smiled at Hannah. It wasn't winning or golden or even intentional, it was truer than that. She made him think of the first time, which was a very long time ago. Enough time, that it acquired a patina of pleasantry that it hadn't had nearly enough of at the time.
"You'll sleep. It doesn't take very long." A glance at Arthur. "Three minutes."