Bwah! If only I had something worth actually offering right now.

"Well, Arthur," Eames says, rolling Arthur's name around in his mouth obscenely. Arthur is not impressed, but he can't speak for his dick in the matter. "It is quite the pleasure to meet you."

Arthur snorts. Eames looks confused at everyone else. "Sure," he says, and shrugs his duffle bag higher on his shoulder.

Eames taps the fingers of his left hand against an almost empty water bottle that Arthur had just noticed. He's not dressed for the occasion, except in the loosest of terms. He's got on navy blue yoga pants, a yellow t-shirt that declares his intention to explain through interpretive dance, and tennis shoes.

"Are you sure you belong here?" Arthur asks, because apparently the airline lost his brain to mouth filter.

Luckily, Eames just grins. "Suspicious, aren't you?"

It's a fair assessment. Arthur shrugs, and maybe nods a little bit. Maybe.