Re: Sam/Eames: art class
Eames didn't see dark shadows when he looked at her. She was small and she was blonde and she looked like she would be good in a knife-fight, all glitter and sharp surprise when least expected. Eames typically saw people the way of their weaponry, darling. Metaphorically speaking. He didn't think of her dreams. It was an obvious consideration for a professional dreamer to think about on meeting new people, but the slice of psyche was so particularly personal Eames didn't. He afforded that politeness even though no one would know just how polite he was being.
"Canals." He looked blank, which he was. Eames couldn't remember a single image in a gallery of canals. He'd seen a canal, obviously. He stood with his weight over his heels and considered canals as he gazed at an eyeball in a face that was aging perceptibly by the second. It was markedly unflattering, darling, if you were the vain sort and he had had his cock out not fifteen minutes ago. "Fair enough, darling. They're hardly ballet dancers or native girls."
Her judgment on rationale for doing things was noted but Eames rarely gave weight to anyone else's rationale as to why he should do something. "You asked me what its name was, darling. You could tell everyone the why was me. And I think why not is a perfectly good reason to do anything, but we don't have to fight about it." It was flavored thickly with amusement and he smiled in the face of her entertainment, all mirth.
"Yes, darling. Like the chair. Or the chair is like me, it depends on how vain you are," he said, which was the kind of thing the vain would say. Eames didn't look bothered by the assertion, he merely put his hand back into the wool pocket of his pants and shrugged in a Gallic sort of way that took few muscles but gave a distinct impression nonetheless.
"S.A.M. Do you recommend your shit?" Eames could, after all, have bought all of her oeuvre without bothering his accountant, and fully dressed, he looked like it. "Call it Murphy. It's an eyeball detached from anything else at the moment, darling. Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong. It looks pretty wrong for poor Murphy just at present."