Inception/Mysterious Skin - Every Me and Every You (9/30)
Title: Every Me and Every You (9/30)
Author: osaki_nana_707
Fandom: Inception/Mysterious Skin fusion
Word count: 2,936
Pairing: Neil/Eames
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: language, allusions to rape,child molestation, and prostitution
Summary: Neil McCormick is fraying at the seams. Then he meets Eames, professional dreamer.
Neil had never been the type to read when it was an assignment. Hell, it was hard to get him to read a book for pleasure honestly, but when Eames handed him the PASIV device manual, he had immediately started studying it like he'd never studied anything before. For the rest of the day he didn't take his nose out of it, reading up on the mechanisms and what-went-where.
Perhaps it was just more interesting than any school things he'd ever had to read, but deep down Neil knew that the reason he was reading through the manual so thoroughly was because he knew Eames would only give him one opportunity like this and he certainly didn't want to fuck it up.
The only time he set it down was when he went out to find himself a good suit like Eames had wanted. He took the subway downtown and walked into the fancy-looking menswear store he'd seen before and was instantly overwhelmed. Once he was inside, he realized just how out of his element he actually was and took a few minutes to just stand there and stare as he tried to adjust. He didn't know how to ask for a suit or what kind or what color. He honestly wasn't sure if the money Eames gave him was even enough for suits like these. He didn't know how much a suit could cost, and even though the money in his hand was more money than he'd make in two months of hustling, he had no idea if it would be enough for these high fashion kinds of things… but Eames had said to get something nice, and these seemed pretty nice.
Thankfully the clerk seemed to notice his desperation and asked him what he was looking for.
"Uh, a nice suit tailored to fit me… How much can this get me?" he asked and held out the bills to the guy.
The clerk nodded, counting them out before saying, "I think I know just the thing."
Neil ended up being shown a pale gray English-cut (whatever that meant) tweed suit and having an older man wrap a tape measure around different parts of his body. The clerk showed him different shirts and ties which Neil in the end could only shrug at, but after several hours of frustrating back-and-forths between the tailor and the clerk and a very confused Neil McCormick, he was sent out and told to come back in three days for his final fitting.
Neil stopped at a bar on his way back to the apartment. It was pretty much deserted since it was the middle of the day, but he still slid into a corner booth and ordered a beer after flashing his fake I.D.
He sat there, thumbing through the PASIV device manual again and then put it away. In his bag he found the mail he'd gathered a few days ago but hadn't yet bothered to look at. In the stack of junk mail and a couple of bills (he should probably get those to Wendy, he thought), he found a letter from Eric.
He ripped open the envelope just as his beer arrived, and he offered a nod of thanks to the waitress before starting to read.
Hey Neil, it started, and that wasn't like him because usually he'd start it off with a cute insult just like Wendy did. He swigged at his beer and continued.
I don't know if you'll read this since God knows I don't know if you ever read my other letters. That's sort of why people are supposed to send letters back. Anyway, I'm really not completely sure what to say, but I've been writing and rewriting this letter for about two weeks, so I figure I might as well just get it done already and stop being such a pussy about it.
I don't know what happened that night you and Brian met, and I know it's not any of my business, but I don't know where else to turn. I haven't been able to get in touch with him since that night, and I'm starting to get really scared that something really bad has happened to him. I went by his house and talked to his mom, and she said that he seemed fine and was just busy with schoolwork, but he won't answer my calls, and he's taken to ignoring my letters just like you always have.
Please, please tell me what went on that night. I already have a pretty good idea, but I'd like to hear it from one of you. I know he doesn't really mean anything to you, but Brian means a lot to me, and if I mean anything at all to you, you'll at least give me some clue. Please, Neil, please, I really don't ask you for much, you know? I just want to be able to help him. I can't sleep and I can't eat and I'm pretty sure I'm going bonkers over all of this, so seriously, write me back or at least call me or something.
Eric
Neil stared at the letter, taking note of where the ink smudged. It looked like Eric had started to cry while writing it.
He took another swig of his beer and stared out the window of the shop, and he thought about the whimpering and the scratching on the brick walls of his subconscious, thought about Brian in his lap that night, bleeding all over Neil's jeans, sobbing pathetically in the still, quiet living room of Coach's house.
It made Neil feel sick.
He got up and wandered over to the payphone and slid a few quarters in. It took a few minutes to remember what Eric's phone number even was, but he punched it in and waited while he was connected and while it rang a few times.
His grandmother answered, a soft, tinny voice over the line. "Hello?"
"Um…" Neil said, looking down at the letter in his hand. "Looking for Eric?"
There was a moment where he heard the phone get set down, a muffled call of the boy's name, and then the sound of it being picked back up. "This is Eric." He sounded ragged, like he hadn't slept in days.
"Eric," Neil said, and paused momentarily to breathe. He wasn't sure why he felt so bad all of a sudden. "Eric, I just read your letter, um…"
"Neil," Eric said on the other end, his voice sounding far away because of the terrible connection but still clear enough for Neil to tell that it was wobbling. "I didn't expect you to call me or write me or anything."
"I'm just full of surprises," Neil said solemnly. "I can't… I can't tell you the details about what happened… not here. I'm in a bar right now, you know, uh… but I'm hoping to come into some money soon, like… like really good money, so… So, I just thought that I'd tell you I can come back out there to Hutchinson when I can afford to, and… and I'll see if there's any way I can help."
"You don't have to do all that," Eric said, his voice raw and shaky. "I don't even understand why you'd want to."
Neil paused, thinking about it. "Because… I owe Brian that much, I guess, and… because… you're my friend."
Eric sniffed on the other end of the line, and Neil realized that he'd never told Eric anything even close to that before. For the first time since he'd met Eric, he genuinely gave pause to think about the boy-awkward, queer, shipped off to middle-of-nowhere Hutchinson, Kansas because his parents were dead, being abandoned by Neil who ran off to New York the first chance he got, and now being ignored by Brian who was probably the only friend he had left.
Neil had never really taken the time to think about anyone but himself, and he wondered why he did that.
"W… well, hey," Neil continued before Eric could get more emotional since Neil wasn't quite sure how to deal with that. "It might be better to just… you know, talk to him. Don't take no for an answer. If his mom knows where he is, demand you speak to him. No one ever got anywhere by giving up, and… and if he means as much to you as you say he does, then you'll fucking do it, you understand? Take a ladder with you and break into his bedroom if you have to…"
"I don't even…" Eric tried to say, and Neil could imagine he was shaking his head. "Okay. You're right. I guess there's a part of me holding back out of fear… but Neil… I know you can't tell me everything, but at least tell me this… Does… does this have anything to do with the man's voice on that cassette tape in your drawer?"
Neil fell deathly silent. "How do you know about that?" he asked after a beat.
"I found it. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have listened to it, but I did, and… just tell me…"
Neil took in a deep breath, clutching the phone so tightly that his knuckles were white. "Yeah," he said. "It does. He was the baseball coach for our little league team."
He didn't get to say goodbye because the line went dead, asking for more quarters to continue the conversation. He hung up and returned to his seat, finished off his beer, and left the money on the table.
He ditched work at the sub shop that night and instead, for some reason, just went out and wandered the streets until the cold had him so numb that he couldn't feel anything. He took a pale white rock and sketched a crude picture of a UFO on the side of an abandoned building, and then he wrote Brian's name underneath it, touching each letter with his fingertips.
He scratched his fingers there for a moment, bringing to mind the sound from his dream.
…and he really did hope that he was all right.
He told Wendy about the suit shop the next evening after work while they passed a joint back and forth, his head propped in her lap. He kept the letter from and conversation with Eric to himself for the time being, choosing instead to try and focus on the upcoming job. He discovered with a bit of surprised delight that putting the name Arthur into his arsenal was more than just a name. When he needed not to think about Neil McCormick things, he could slide fairly easily into Arthur's skin, and it made things a little easier. He was, after all, good at building walls.
"I never thought I'd see the day that Neil McCormick would willingly go purchase a suit," she said. "It's so fucking freaky."
"Well," he said a bit sleepily, coughing a little as he handed the joint to her, "these are like… expensive and tailored, and it comes with-I don't know, extra stuff, so I won't look like one of those business cubicle yuppies or anything. Maybe I'll look like a kickass lawyer or something. You should come with me."
"Of course I'm coming with you. You think I'm going to miss this opportunity? I'll even buy you that stuff they use to make their hair all oily."
Neil laughed, closing his eyes as she ran her fingers through his hair. "When I'm rich I'll help you get that full back tattoo you want."
"I'm holding you to that."
She kissed his forehead gently, and he fell asleep.
The days seemed to drag by. Neil had read the PASIV handbook enough times that he as pretty sure he'd memorized it, so he'd put it aside. Wendy woke him up early to go get his suit, since she had to be at work in the afternoon, and he rolled his eyes at her and laughed when she presented him with a canister of pomade.
They made the trek downtown together, Neil looking awkward with his slicked back hair and street clothes, sharing a cup of coffee and with him occasionally dozing on her shoulder. When he got into the store he was almost instantly whisked away into the fitting room. He was helped into (not that he'd asked) the soft gray suit from before. The shirt underneath was a dark navy, and there was a vest and belt and pocket square and a gray-and-white striped tie, and honestly Neil wasn't sure what was happening or what was going where until he was sliding his feet into a pair of matching loafers.
He smoothed his hands over his hair to fix anything that had fallen out of place, and he realized that he'd never felt more comfortable in his life. Maybe it was because he'd never had clothes that fit him quite this well, but it felt absolutely incredible. "We've also got a trench coat for you," the clerk, who had been there the day Neil had come in, said.
"Do I look good?" Neil asked him, and the man nodded, looking impressed. Neil tended to find that most people were surprised by how nicely he cleaned up, considering the earring and little boy haircut. He turned towards the mirror and jumped back a little when he saw himself.
Well, he didn't look like the business yuppie he had in the cheap suit he'd borrowed, that was for sure. He would even suffice to say he looked better than a kickass lawyer. He certainly looked more handsome and presentable than George Winchester Jr. ever could.
He left the fitting room, finding Wendy fiddling with her portable cassette player, looking bored. He grinned and walked quietly up behind her, hands in his pockets, and whispered in her ear, "Boo." She jolted and turned to scold but her words fell silent on her lips.
"Neil?" she questioned, and she sounded as though she genuinely didn't believe it.
"Not bad, right?" Neil said, turning around to show her the whole outfit. He normally wasn't a fan of these types of clothes, but even he had to admit that he looked pretty damn good. He wondered what Eames would think.
"I don't go for dudes in suits but I would definitely fuck you if you picked me up in that."
The workers in the store seemed a bit appalled by her language, but Neil didn't give a damn. He'd paid them a lot of money so they could keep their opinions to themselves. "Well, if this new job doesn't work out, I suppose I could sell myself to a higher quality clientele," he said, winking because he knew she'd understand.
"If this new job doesn't work out, your Mr. Eames is going to be agitated he wasted so much money."
"He's got money to waste."
He didn't correct her about saying that Mr. Eames was his though.
Neil had just enough money left over to hail a taxi back to their apartment, and even though he knew pretty much everything it said, he read over the PASIV manual one more time. It was better than getting the eye from the driver who seemed to think he and Wendy didn't fit together so well when he was dressed this way and probably assumed she was a prostitute. If only the man knew how backwards he had it.
As they got out of the taxi, Neil spotted Eames standing on the doorstep, and frankly it was impressive how impeccable their timing had been. A wave of anxiety still flooded through him, but Neil was nothing if not adaptable, so he put on the impassive expression he usually wore in situations like this, and crawled out of the car.
"Hope you brought me a gift," Wendy called out to Eames.
Eames turned at the sound of the voice. "Of course I did," he said and then instantly fell silent when he saw Neil behind her. Neil wasn't entirely sure Eames realized it was him right away.
Neil smirked at him, and the expression seemed to solidify who he was to Eames. The man never faltered even for a second though, digging in his coat and handing an envelope to Wendy. "You didn't really look like the tennis bracelet type," he said, "so I thought I'd just give you a little cash to buy tickets to whatever you'd like-a concert or a show or even just to fly somewhere.
Wendy looked back at Neil and mouthed marry him before going to unlock the door. Neil tugged at the collar of his shirt a little uncomfortably.
"You look nice," Eames said to him. "I worried you'd show up in a tartan patterned monstrosity, but this looks quite lovely on you."
"I don't feel like you have room to talk about ugly clothes," Neil replied flatly. Eames smiled warmly at him, and Neil felt that weird squeezing in his chest again. "So today is the day?" he said instead of taking the time to question it.
Eames nodded. "If you're up for it, I plan to take you back to the hotel, introduce you to the rest of the team for a test run, and then we go after the mark this evening. We've paid off his housekeeper to allow us into his flat."
Neil nodded and looked towards Wendy who immediately started waving him off. "Get lost, ass. Go make us some money!"
He grinned at her and looked back at Eames. "Lead the way then."
Author: osaki_nana_707
Fandom: Inception/Mysterious Skin fusion
Word count: 2,936
Pairing: Neil/Eames
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: language, allusions to rape,child molestation, and prostitution
Summary: Neil McCormick is fraying at the seams. Then he meets Eames, professional dreamer.
Neil had never been the type to read when it was an assignment. Hell, it was hard to get him to read a book for pleasure honestly, but when Eames handed him the PASIV device manual, he had immediately started studying it like he'd never studied anything before. For the rest of the day he didn't take his nose out of it, reading up on the mechanisms and what-went-where.
Perhaps it was just more interesting than any school things he'd ever had to read, but deep down Neil knew that the reason he was reading through the manual so thoroughly was because he knew Eames would only give him one opportunity like this and he certainly didn't want to fuck it up.
The only time he set it down was when he went out to find himself a good suit like Eames had wanted. He took the subway downtown and walked into the fancy-looking menswear store he'd seen before and was instantly overwhelmed. Once he was inside, he realized just how out of his element he actually was and took a few minutes to just stand there and stare as he tried to adjust. He didn't know how to ask for a suit or what kind or what color. He honestly wasn't sure if the money Eames gave him was even enough for suits like these. He didn't know how much a suit could cost, and even though the money in his hand was more money than he'd make in two months of hustling, he had no idea if it would be enough for these high fashion kinds of things… but Eames had said to get something nice, and these seemed pretty nice.
Thankfully the clerk seemed to notice his desperation and asked him what he was looking for.
"Uh, a nice suit tailored to fit me… How much can this get me?" he asked and held out the bills to the guy.
The clerk nodded, counting them out before saying, "I think I know just the thing."
Neil ended up being shown a pale gray English-cut (whatever that meant) tweed suit and having an older man wrap a tape measure around different parts of his body. The clerk showed him different shirts and ties which Neil in the end could only shrug at, but after several hours of frustrating back-and-forths between the tailor and the clerk and a very confused Neil McCormick, he was sent out and told to come back in three days for his final fitting.
Neil stopped at a bar on his way back to the apartment. It was pretty much deserted since it was the middle of the day, but he still slid into a corner booth and ordered a beer after flashing his fake I.D.
He sat there, thumbing through the PASIV device manual again and then put it away. In his bag he found the mail he'd gathered a few days ago but hadn't yet bothered to look at. In the stack of junk mail and a couple of bills (he should probably get those to Wendy, he thought), he found a letter from Eric.
He ripped open the envelope just as his beer arrived, and he offered a nod of thanks to the waitress before starting to read.
Hey Neil, it started, and that wasn't like him because usually he'd start it off with a cute insult just like Wendy did. He swigged at his beer and continued.
I don't know if you'll read this since God knows I don't know if you ever read my other letters. That's sort of why people are supposed to send letters back. Anyway, I'm really not completely sure what to say, but I've been writing and rewriting this letter for about two weeks, so I figure I might as well just get it done already and stop being such a pussy about it.
I don't know what happened that night you and Brian met, and I know it's not any of my business, but I don't know where else to turn. I haven't been able to get in touch with him since that night, and I'm starting to get really scared that something really bad has happened to him. I went by his house and talked to his mom, and she said that he seemed fine and was just busy with schoolwork, but he won't answer my calls, and he's taken to ignoring my letters just like you always have.
Please, please tell me what went on that night. I already have a pretty good idea, but I'd like to hear it from one of you. I know he doesn't really mean anything to you, but Brian means a lot to me, and if I mean anything at all to you, you'll at least give me some clue. Please, Neil, please, I really don't ask you for much, you know? I just want to be able to help him. I can't sleep and I can't eat and I'm pretty sure I'm going bonkers over all of this, so seriously, write me back or at least call me or something.
Eric
Neil stared at the letter, taking note of where the ink smudged. It looked like Eric had started to cry while writing it.
He took another swig of his beer and stared out the window of the shop, and he thought about the whimpering and the scratching on the brick walls of his subconscious, thought about Brian in his lap that night, bleeding all over Neil's jeans, sobbing pathetically in the still, quiet living room of Coach's house.
It made Neil feel sick.
He got up and wandered over to the payphone and slid a few quarters in. It took a few minutes to remember what Eric's phone number even was, but he punched it in and waited while he was connected and while it rang a few times.
His grandmother answered, a soft, tinny voice over the line. "Hello?"
"Um…" Neil said, looking down at the letter in his hand. "Looking for Eric?"
There was a moment where he heard the phone get set down, a muffled call of the boy's name, and then the sound of it being picked back up. "This is Eric." He sounded ragged, like he hadn't slept in days.
"Eric," Neil said, and paused momentarily to breathe. He wasn't sure why he felt so bad all of a sudden. "Eric, I just read your letter, um…"
"Neil," Eric said on the other end, his voice sounding far away because of the terrible connection but still clear enough for Neil to tell that it was wobbling. "I didn't expect you to call me or write me or anything."
"I'm just full of surprises," Neil said solemnly. "I can't… I can't tell you the details about what happened… not here. I'm in a bar right now, you know, uh… but I'm hoping to come into some money soon, like… like really good money, so… So, I just thought that I'd tell you I can come back out there to Hutchinson when I can afford to, and… and I'll see if there's any way I can help."
"You don't have to do all that," Eric said, his voice raw and shaky. "I don't even understand why you'd want to."
Neil paused, thinking about it. "Because… I owe Brian that much, I guess, and… because… you're my friend."
Eric sniffed on the other end of the line, and Neil realized that he'd never told Eric anything even close to that before. For the first time since he'd met Eric, he genuinely gave pause to think about the boy-awkward, queer, shipped off to middle-of-nowhere Hutchinson, Kansas because his parents were dead, being abandoned by Neil who ran off to New York the first chance he got, and now being ignored by Brian who was probably the only friend he had left.
Neil had never really taken the time to think about anyone but himself, and he wondered why he did that.
"W… well, hey," Neil continued before Eric could get more emotional since Neil wasn't quite sure how to deal with that. "It might be better to just… you know, talk to him. Don't take no for an answer. If his mom knows where he is, demand you speak to him. No one ever got anywhere by giving up, and… and if he means as much to you as you say he does, then you'll fucking do it, you understand? Take a ladder with you and break into his bedroom if you have to…"
"I don't even…" Eric tried to say, and Neil could imagine he was shaking his head. "Okay. You're right. I guess there's a part of me holding back out of fear… but Neil… I know you can't tell me everything, but at least tell me this… Does… does this have anything to do with the man's voice on that cassette tape in your drawer?"
Neil fell deathly silent. "How do you know about that?" he asked after a beat.
"I found it. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have listened to it, but I did, and… just tell me…"
Neil took in a deep breath, clutching the phone so tightly that his knuckles were white. "Yeah," he said. "It does. He was the baseball coach for our little league team."
He didn't get to say goodbye because the line went dead, asking for more quarters to continue the conversation. He hung up and returned to his seat, finished off his beer, and left the money on the table.
He ditched work at the sub shop that night and instead, for some reason, just went out and wandered the streets until the cold had him so numb that he couldn't feel anything. He took a pale white rock and sketched a crude picture of a UFO on the side of an abandoned building, and then he wrote Brian's name underneath it, touching each letter with his fingertips.
He scratched his fingers there for a moment, bringing to mind the sound from his dream.
…and he really did hope that he was all right.
He told Wendy about the suit shop the next evening after work while they passed a joint back and forth, his head propped in her lap. He kept the letter from and conversation with Eric to himself for the time being, choosing instead to try and focus on the upcoming job. He discovered with a bit of surprised delight that putting the name Arthur into his arsenal was more than just a name. When he needed not to think about Neil McCormick things, he could slide fairly easily into Arthur's skin, and it made things a little easier. He was, after all, good at building walls.
"I never thought I'd see the day that Neil McCormick would willingly go purchase a suit," she said. "It's so fucking freaky."
"Well," he said a bit sleepily, coughing a little as he handed the joint to her, "these are like… expensive and tailored, and it comes with-I don't know, extra stuff, so I won't look like one of those business cubicle yuppies or anything. Maybe I'll look like a kickass lawyer or something. You should come with me."
"Of course I'm coming with you. You think I'm going to miss this opportunity? I'll even buy you that stuff they use to make their hair all oily."
Neil laughed, closing his eyes as she ran her fingers through his hair. "When I'm rich I'll help you get that full back tattoo you want."
"I'm holding you to that."
She kissed his forehead gently, and he fell asleep.
The days seemed to drag by. Neil had read the PASIV handbook enough times that he as pretty sure he'd memorized it, so he'd put it aside. Wendy woke him up early to go get his suit, since she had to be at work in the afternoon, and he rolled his eyes at her and laughed when she presented him with a canister of pomade.
They made the trek downtown together, Neil looking awkward with his slicked back hair and street clothes, sharing a cup of coffee and with him occasionally dozing on her shoulder. When he got into the store he was almost instantly whisked away into the fitting room. He was helped into (not that he'd asked) the soft gray suit from before. The shirt underneath was a dark navy, and there was a vest and belt and pocket square and a gray-and-white striped tie, and honestly Neil wasn't sure what was happening or what was going where until he was sliding his feet into a pair of matching loafers.
He smoothed his hands over his hair to fix anything that had fallen out of place, and he realized that he'd never felt more comfortable in his life. Maybe it was because he'd never had clothes that fit him quite this well, but it felt absolutely incredible. "We've also got a trench coat for you," the clerk, who had been there the day Neil had come in, said.
"Do I look good?" Neil asked him, and the man nodded, looking impressed. Neil tended to find that most people were surprised by how nicely he cleaned up, considering the earring and little boy haircut. He turned towards the mirror and jumped back a little when he saw himself.
Well, he didn't look like the business yuppie he had in the cheap suit he'd borrowed, that was for sure. He would even suffice to say he looked better than a kickass lawyer. He certainly looked more handsome and presentable than George Winchester Jr. ever could.
He left the fitting room, finding Wendy fiddling with her portable cassette player, looking bored. He grinned and walked quietly up behind her, hands in his pockets, and whispered in her ear, "Boo." She jolted and turned to scold but her words fell silent on her lips.
"Neil?" she questioned, and she sounded as though she genuinely didn't believe it.
"Not bad, right?" Neil said, turning around to show her the whole outfit. He normally wasn't a fan of these types of clothes, but even he had to admit that he looked pretty damn good. He wondered what Eames would think.
"I don't go for dudes in suits but I would definitely fuck you if you picked me up in that."
The workers in the store seemed a bit appalled by her language, but Neil didn't give a damn. He'd paid them a lot of money so they could keep their opinions to themselves. "Well, if this new job doesn't work out, I suppose I could sell myself to a higher quality clientele," he said, winking because he knew she'd understand.
"If this new job doesn't work out, your Mr. Eames is going to be agitated he wasted so much money."
"He's got money to waste."
He didn't correct her about saying that Mr. Eames was his though.
Neil had just enough money left over to hail a taxi back to their apartment, and even though he knew pretty much everything it said, he read over the PASIV manual one more time. It was better than getting the eye from the driver who seemed to think he and Wendy didn't fit together so well when he was dressed this way and probably assumed she was a prostitute. If only the man knew how backwards he had it.
As they got out of the taxi, Neil spotted Eames standing on the doorstep, and frankly it was impressive how impeccable their timing had been. A wave of anxiety still flooded through him, but Neil was nothing if not adaptable, so he put on the impassive expression he usually wore in situations like this, and crawled out of the car.
"Hope you brought me a gift," Wendy called out to Eames.
Eames turned at the sound of the voice. "Of course I did," he said and then instantly fell silent when he saw Neil behind her. Neil wasn't entirely sure Eames realized it was him right away.
Neil smirked at him, and the expression seemed to solidify who he was to Eames. The man never faltered even for a second though, digging in his coat and handing an envelope to Wendy. "You didn't really look like the tennis bracelet type," he said, "so I thought I'd just give you a little cash to buy tickets to whatever you'd like-a concert or a show or even just to fly somewhere.
Wendy looked back at Neil and mouthed marry him before going to unlock the door. Neil tugged at the collar of his shirt a little uncomfortably.
"You look nice," Eames said to him. "I worried you'd show up in a tartan patterned monstrosity, but this looks quite lovely on you."
"I don't feel like you have room to talk about ugly clothes," Neil replied flatly. Eames smiled warmly at him, and Neil felt that weird squeezing in his chest again. "So today is the day?" he said instead of taking the time to question it.
Eames nodded. "If you're up for it, I plan to take you back to the hotel, introduce you to the rest of the team for a test run, and then we go after the mark this evening. We've paid off his housekeeper to allow us into his flat."
Neil nodded and looked towards Wendy who immediately started waving him off. "Get lost, ass. Go make us some money!"
He grinned at her and looked back at Eames. "Lead the way then."