She was most definitely good, Eames knew that much from experience, and he smiled almost genuinely, as close to genuinely as he would usually get, when she looked over at him. It was a reassurance, a reminder that they would be just fine, that she was entirely welcome. He lowered his hands from Arthur's shoulders to wrap around his hips, tugging on the belt to undo it and pull, dropping it to the floor once it was out of enough loops to slip on its own. Those pants just had to go.