[ ot3 verse ] but you can't know for sure

[triedinception]

Eames made his living observing people.

To him, a man would have to be blind to the obvious tension in Arthur's frame, the way that he and Mal were either looking at each other too long or avoiding each others gaze entirely. Apparently, Dom was the blind man in this example, because he didn't seem to have a clue about it.

Eames didn't know whether or

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[littlspecificty]

Arthur was knocking back whiskey and vodka because fuck working his way into a buzz. He wanted to be slammed into being shit-faced.

He just wanted to forget a few things for tonight.

Like how blue Mal's eyes were. How his hair felt under Arthur's fingertips. His wicked smile and soft, accented voice. How he felt inside of him, pressed against him, his weight on top of him, fingers leaving bruises on his hips. He greeted the burn of the liquor as he wanted to forget what Mal tasted like.

He wanted to fucking obliterate his mind if only to get the thought out of his head. And deal with the acceptance that that particular thought was not possible, do-able, feasible, plausible, or any other version of the word with the same goddamn meaning.

So he ended up ordering another round of shots while trying to keep up his defense of Kenneth Branagh being a better Hamlet and Shakespearean actor than Lawrence Olivier.

[triedinception]

Arthur was well on his way there, Eames could tell. And he kept up his defense of Olivier if only to see Arthur gesture grandly and progressively more intoxicatedly as he spoke of Branagh. It seemed like it was what Arthur had needed, someone to argue with and make sure he didn't fall out of his stool.

"I'm sorry, darling, but Lawrence did the definitive portrayal of Hamlet. He practically lived and breathed the character."

[littlspecificty]

In truth it was exactly what Arthur needed: a distraction.

Knocking back the whiskey, "You are full of such horseshit. I mean, have you even seen Henry V? The way he not only made that play film-able and watchable and delivered that speech of St. Crispin's Day? Huh?"

Knocking back the vodka, "And you want to talk "definitive"? Okay, lets talk that: Branagh filmed the whole fucking play! He put in shit that all the other versions cut out! That film is more definitive and called for a more definitive role and commitment! Olivier just played a part! He didn't give a shit about it!" And even while Arthur was definitely getting hammered and louder in his speech he felt he was still able to defend his points.

[triedinception]

Eames took a long sip of his margarita, watching Arthur knock back the whiskey and vodka in quick succession with a little smirk. Plucking his little sword out of it and chewing on it slightly, he spoke again.

"Branagh filmed and starred in his own film, it was only a vehicle to extoll how full of himself he is. Parts will always get cut out for films and plays, Arthur, like trimming down something for time. Olivier still managed to convey Hamlet and his madness gloriously," he said, taking the sword out of his mouth and using it to point at Arthur.