Eames paid no heed to the fact that buildings were in the wrong place and that distances were warped. He spent ten minutes walking up one side of a street, only to cross the road and go the opposite direction and find himself back at the start thirty seconds later. It was natural dreaming, something he hadn't been able to do for a long time, thanks to all the somnacin he had pumped into his veins on a semi-regular basis, and he was quite content to let things proceed as the dream willed it.
Naturally, he couldn't quite shake off all his usual dreamshare habits; he'd been doing this for almost ten years now, and he wasn't one of the best in the business through luck. No, Eames was every inch a professional, and his habit of constantly checking everything he could - one that had followed him from the day and hour he enlisted in the army, if he was honest with himself - had saved more than a few jobs from becoming clusterfucks. Every minute or so, he checked his surroundings, to see if there were any particularly antsy projections or if buildings weren't acting correctly or... well, anything that didn't sit well with him, really.
And something was not sitting well with him. He was almost certain that he wasn't alone in the dreamshare. Something was... watching him? Maybe? Time for evasive manoeuvres, just in case. He nipped in through a door that had just appeared to his left, and stepped out onto the roof of the building across the road.