Re: Janus A/Eames: the 'Stop
Eames had never really had money, darling. He had it temporarily, on its way from one pocket to another. He lost it with alacrity when he did have it, but this probably meant he had enjoyed it more for the having. Nowadays, he spent on someone else's credit card, which wasn't the same thing at all.
As much as Eames trusted Janus, a totem wasn't something you shared. Dreamers he'd dreamed with before knew he had it, some even knew what it looked like. No one knew how it felt, or exactly how it spun. It went back into his pocket and he looked at Janus, shrewd. The gambler assessing the room.
"Nothing show-stopping. Something I miss I think is a requirement. Name of the first man I ever worked for. Or the second job he ever sent me to." Not the first. The first had been terrifying and he'd been sick over his own shoes shortly after. The second had been better, when he'd realized it was perfectly possible to continue doing it. "Enough? Or too much?"
It was contrary. But Eames was prepared to skirt a line, his line. So long as it was small potatoes rather than fucking great big ones. "Enough to bring you a little closer this side of alive."