Arthur maintained the apartment religiously, and he was even more diligent about it once Eames had lost his sight. He'd wanted to help Eames to be as independent as possible, knowing how frustrated Eames had become, the longer he was in the dark. He was also getting pretty good at crossing the apartment faster than a speeding bullet when Eames yelled for him.
He didn't bother dressing, just sprang out of bed and sprinted in the direction of Eames' voice. "What's wrong?"