Re: Dreaming: Billy & Eames
Eames wasn't afraid in dreams. Not those where he knew where he was dreaming, even if he didn't know who. He'd been afraid of the Corinthian, but he'd forgotten that nightmare this mired in sleep and it was a nightmare that only chose to haunt his sleep occasionally. He dreamed locked boxes, and anger but rarely anguish. It was a difficult emotion to dream if you hardly ever felt it. Eames didn't fear for his life, darling. And he didn't fear for anyone else's.
He didn't need pretty promises or forbidding. He'd rather like to meet the Prince with the power and the singular name absent any other form. "Usually, you're...?" He prompted, stood between the boy and the clock but the shadow that flitted from a hallway within caused Eames to look sharply in that direction. The outline was female. The laughter, evasive.
"Usually, you're," Eames tried again but the footfalls were heavier now. A man.