[Oh food? Food for Eames? He'd kiss Arthur but his mother's here insisting there's something serious between them and he can't give her ammunition. He does, however, give Arthur a soft thanks and immediately start eating.]
[His mother, on the other hand, sits and looks at Arthur with a warm gaze that does little to hide the way she's watching him. Taking in all his movements, his discomfort. It's that same assessing eye Eames has, hidden behind friendliness, a little amused as she leans close and puts a hand on Arthur's knee.]
"You needn't be polite, love. I know better than anyone what a handful he is."
[Eames plants himself in the armchair with a noise of protest, but she gives him a look, challenging him to argue he's not a handful and he stops before he even starts talking with a huff.]
no subject
[His mother, on the other hand, sits and looks at Arthur with a warm gaze that does little to hide the way she's watching him. Taking in all his movements, his discomfort. It's that same assessing eye Eames has, hidden behind friendliness, a little amused as she leans close and puts a hand on Arthur's knee.]
"You needn't be polite, love. I know better than anyone what a handful he is."
[Eames plants himself in the armchair with a noise of protest, but she gives him a look, challenging him to argue he's not a handful and he stops before he even starts talking with a huff.]