(Untitled)

[fakejaded]

As it turns out, one of the few things this island doesn't have is a pair of knitting needles and some yarn Britta can use, but she has a lot of spare time on her hands, so it's only so long before she puts her ingenuity to the test. None of the Compound cats seem to be in any need of visual aids of any kind, but with the snow coming down, Britta

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[dreambigger]

It isn't the first time this week Eames has found himself a witness to someone getting stuck under the mistletoe, and while it's something that he can't see ever becoming less amusing, this time, it's practically doing him a favor. With as crazy as the past week and a half has threatened to drive him, she, he thinks, might, as ever, be exactly the kind of distraction he needs. He smiles, slow and almost sly, as he crosses the rec room towards Emma, careful to steer clear of the cat that might as well be demonic. Just because he plans on winding up under that mistletoe with her doesn't mean he has any intention of getting in that thing's way.

"Well, would you look at this," he says, too innocently to sound genuine, deliberately positioning himself across from her, just as trapped in the doorway. "I don't know which one of us this makes luckier."

[neveraskedtwice]

Emma arches an eyebrow, made too irritable by the situation to be trifled with, although it helps he's the one doing the trifling. "Well, I'd assume you," she says, almost sweet, "since you walked yourself into it." She honestly doesn't mind the Christmas festivities around here - she likes Christmas, in fact, particularly the night before - but there's such a thing as too much good cheer and anyway, she hates the redesign on her house.

[dreambigger]

"I couldn't very well let you stay trapped here, now, could I?" Eames asks, like that ought to have been obvious, not quite managing to pull off seeming affronted, if only because he doesn't really try. There's no need to. His smile softens just a little as he looks at her, and he steps in closer, one hand lifting to rest on her waist. "Now, darling, what say we get ourselves unstuck?"

[neveraskedtwice]

Though she's questionable when it comes to the affection, Emma's not particularly shy about public displays. She has no desire to stay in this doorway listening to absurd Christmas carols and one of the cats which seem to be congregating here. "Absolutely," she says, leaning in to kiss him - no need to bother about being chaste, of course, but she's not looking to linger here either. Sliding a hand down to his, she steps away, tugging him after her. "There now, much better."

[dreambigger]

"Oh, much," Eames agrees easily, though the kiss is enough to have him smiling genuinely all the same. He'd still much rather do it on his own terms than the magic island's, the questions he keeps coming back to about this place making abiding by its whims nothing especially pleasant. Glancing over at her, always glad for her company and figuring he might as well capitalize on the distraction it provides while he can, he asks, "So where were you headed, love?"

[neveraskedtwice]

"Nowhere in particular," Emma says. "I was hoping to find a book or the like to entertain me. I'm afraid snow angels don't cut it." She didn't hold it against anyone else that they enjoy that kind of thing - it's childish, but entertainment must be found somewhere - but she's hardly about to indulge in it herself. "And you?"

[dreambigger]

"Just needed to get out of the bloody snow for a while," Eames sighs, rolling his eyes at himself even as he does. It's stupid, or at least he thinks it should be, but with the sudden change in weather comes doubts that he can't shake, that he doesn't quite have the logic to dismiss. They might still be in the back of his mind now, but at least he isn't standing in the middle of it. "I'll be glad when it's gone."

[neveraskedtwice]

"Not a fan of the change in the weather?" Emma asks, glancing down the hall to the door. "I like it, inasmuch as I like anything around here. It's about time something was different around here." But then, she's always liked white. Something's off, though, she can sense it and she doesn't have the first idea what. She hates not knowing.

[dreambigger]

To tell her is tempting. Eames is someone who's always been good at pretending, who's made a career out of lies ranging in size, and there shouldn't be any reason, now, why he can't continue doing exactly that. He's always prided himself on never being one of the people in his line of work to get caught between dream and reality, unable to differentiate the two. Since showing up here, thought, that hasn't stayed quite so true, and the weather only heightens his uncertainty exponentially. It might be easier, he thinks, if his hadn't been the level with the snow; to be faced with it now, it seems like nothing but a taunt, one which leaves a bad taste in his mouth about the whole situation.

"I don't mind snow itself," he allows with a shrug, because he doesn't. Under any other circumstances, it wouldn't be a big deal at all. It's the nature of this island that makes it problematic, too many things not adding up. "I just don't like it here, or the way it showed up."

[neveraskedtwice]

"It is a bit disconcerting," Emma admits, "but that's the nature of the place." She can't understand why this should be any stranger than those clouds on Halloween or any of the other things that happen here, but it's something that genuinely bothers him. He isn't making a big deal of it, but he stays on the topic, and that combination, the persistence coupled with the understatement, makes it clear to her it gets to him in a way she doesn't understand. Heading down the hall, further into the building, she makes her way for the stairs that lead lower. "It'll only be a few more weeks."

[dreambigger]

"And then back to normal," Eames adds, but there's little sincerity in his voice. There's nothing normal about this place at all, and that's half his problem. The rest of what this place has thrown at him, he's made himself deal with, other strange changes in the weather and the like, but for the most part, it hasn't affected him much. This, on the other hand, is a constant reminder of the fact that he doesn't know what the hell is going on, and that's not a position he's ever liked to be in. "I can't wait."

[neveraskedtwice]

There are worse things than a few weeks of snow. The thought makes Emma sullen, though she strives to hide it. There's nothing to be gained in sulking over her losses and she can't expect anyone to understand. "There's nothing normal about this," she says, and her normal has long been different from everyone else's, irretrievable so long as she's here. That, though, means there's no real reason to be more upset by this than by any other turn of events here. She deliberately makes her way down the stairs; it's quieter on the stairwell and they always have a need for privacy one way or another. "Is everything alright, darling?"

[dreambigger]

The question is one he doesn't bother acknowleding. Everything is far from alright, and given the question, he suspects that she knows it. She's sharp, perceptive; he might be a good liar, skilled enough to have made a career out of it, but it somehow doesn't surprise him at all that she's picked up on there being something more going on. He hasn't been on the top of his game, anyway, mostly because he hasn't tried. It's not customary, for him, but then, this place has turned everything else on its head.

Because of that, he doesn't consider trying to claim that he is, because he guesses she'll see right through it. Instead, he answers her question with a question of his own: "What do you know about dreams, Emma?"

[neveraskedtwice]

"Oh, Eames," sighs Emma, giving him a look of mild disappointment, mostly feigned, "you aren't about to get sentimental on me, are you? I know it's the holidays, but really." What he's trying to get at, she hasn't the faintest idea, but she's willing to play along, all jokes aside, if only to satisfy her curiosity. There isn't much else to do here after all, but satiate one appetite or another. "In what sense?"

[dreambigger]

"No, no, not like -" Eames starts, his words overlapping hers, and makes a face. It isn't like it's an easy thing to explain; he ought to have expected this. Mostly, it's the notion of sentimentality that he doesn't like, given how little of it his job entails. "Dreams in the sleeping sense, not... whatever else you think I meant."

[neveraskedtwice]

She stops in her steps, somewhere on the stairs, and turns to face him. "Only teasing, darling," she says, touching his cheek briefly (more teasing) before she walks on again. He has an ego and she has a talent for deflating those, but she understands; she's just as bad. Besides, she needs a moment, not sure how to say what she knows about them. "I don't often remember mine." This is probably a good thing. "I know a bit about the technical and the psychological, but I don't think I'm an expert exactly."