“Boy! Beer!”
“Yes, sir.”
Robert isn’t a particularly good pool boy: his idea of the job doesn’t seem to involve physical labor. But he looks perfect in his tiny speedos, and when he hands Eames the bottle, he keeps his eyes down as he’s been instructed.
“Wait,” Eames calls after him as he returns to the house. Robert freezes. “My wife won’t be home for at least an hour.”
Eames doesn’t have a wife (at least not in their current legal jurisdiction), but this scenario is one of Robert’s favorites. He sinks to his knees and pulls down Eames’ shorts.