Dream: 01
[ Waking up somewhere he doesn't recognise isn't exactly something new for Eames. There's a particular month from 1998 that he can't remember anything from, an inventive little bender for a job well done.
So he doesn't think much of it. Sitting up in the bed, he finds himself fully clothed, even down to his boots. Strange. His gun's still secured in the holster under his jacket, and his brow furrows. Swinging his legs off the side, feet connecting to the floor with a thump, Eames fishes his totem out. Running his thumb along the numbers carved there. Reality.
It's then that he notices the phone. It's like his own, but without any of the contacts. And he seems to be connected to something. Lifting it to his mouth, Eames' clears his throat before speaking. ]
Hello? Is this someone's bloody idea of a joke? Where am I?
So he doesn't think much of it. Sitting up in the bed, he finds himself fully clothed, even down to his boots. Strange. His gun's still secured in the holster under his jacket, and his brow furrows. Swinging his legs off the side, feet connecting to the floor with a thump, Eames fishes his totem out. Running his thumb along the numbers carved there. Reality.
It's then that he notices the phone. It's like his own, but without any of the contacts. And he seems to be connected to something. Lifting it to his mouth, Eames' clears his throat before speaking. ]
Hello? Is this someone's bloody idea of a joke? Where am I?