The doors seem so perfect in the vineyard, like they'd always been there. She steps through them wordlessly, admiring the new view in front of her. With a nod of appreciation towards Eames, she glides into her chair, crossing her legs at the knees, and leaning forward.

"Alright- hold on." She closes her eyes for a moment and screws up her nose. This is a dream. She can imagine whatever she wants. When she opens her eyes, there's a bottle of rare gin on the table and a martini glass. Absolutely perfect. And time to see if you can drink in a dream.