Arthur wished he couldn't read Eames' look, because it was actually mollifying and he didn't want to be mollified. He shook his head and walked toward the doorway. He brushed by Eames. "Which," he said to Ariadne, mostly though his teeth, "is the reasoning I gave you in the first place."

He didn't sit. He wanted another drink but refrained from that as well. His jacket, wrinkled now, was dumped over the sofa arm.