Eames hadn't, in fact, been intending on playing a game of pool. It's only in having it mentioned that the thought really occurs to him at all, and then all he can really do is grin, standing a couple feet back and watching Amy with a vague sort of amusement, as if he knows something no one else does. (He doesn't, but it's generally a good thing to broadcast anyway.) "I wouldn't say no to a game," he says easily, one shoulder lifting in a shrug. "Not going to stop you from occupying the table, though, either, if you're enjoying it up there."
There was something about his cheeky-as-hell expression that Amy liked. It reminded her vaguely of the Doctor or Mels. It was reminiscent of one she frequently wore herself. Even if you didn't have the faintest notion what was going on there was no need to admit that. It was more fun to just go with the notion.
"I suppose I could get off," Amy shrugged as she crossed her legs before tapping her fingers on the edge of the table. "Probably would make it easier for you to play. Probably easier for me as well."
"It probably would," Eames agrees with a nod, mock-thoughtful. It isn't like there's any hurry either way. Mostly, it's just a way of fighting perpetual boredom, and Amy herself is good enough company for that, whether or not she ever makes her way off the pool table (though a game really would be nice). "Wouldn't want you to still be up there if anyone did decide to play. Those things look like they'd hurt."
Laughing Amy lifted her cue, waving it back and forth quickly enough to cause it to make a faint whipping noise. There was just enough spring to it that told her that yes, it would hurt and not in the fun way. "Yeah, I think they would. It'd be very reformatory school and I don't think I want to chance that."
It was not an itch that she wished to scratch at all. Sliding off the pool table, she pushed down the hem of her skirt ever so slightly before turning to him. "Grab a cue. I've decided we're playing."
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"I suppose I could get off," Amy shrugged as she crossed her legs before tapping her fingers on the edge of the table. "Probably would make it easier for you to play. Probably easier for me as well."
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It was not an itch that she wished to scratch at all. Sliding off the pool table, she pushed down the hem of her skirt ever so slightly before turning to him. "Grab a cue. I've decided we're playing."
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