Eames just nodded in response and then started shuffling slowly towards the lift. If he got to the lift, he could rest there for a few moments, then rest in the lift, and then he'd be almost home and he could fall into the shower and sleep on the tiled floor for all he cared. With his head down and his eyes shut (because he still remembered the layout of the building's foyer and he could walk around the place blindfolded now if he wanted to) he finally made it to the wall and his first rest.
He just had to... to... make the lift open. Arthur would know what to do. Arthur knew all kinds of shit. After blinking at the lift for a few seconds, he turned his head very slowly to look for his partner but got distracted by what had to be his footsteps. His feet were both soaking and filthy. Delightful.