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“Let’s go out tonight.”
Eames looked up. “Darling, you hate eating out.”
“Come on, I’ll let you choose the place!” Arthur ducked into the bedroom. “Can you open the safe? I need my cufflinks.”
Eames followed him and entered the code. “Lazy git,” he teased.
“Yeah yeah, now go away.” Arthur started rummaging through the safe, pulling things at random.
Eames laughed and obediently retreated.
“Aren’t you allergic to eggplant?”
Arthur paused, fork halfway to his mouth. “I outgrew it.”
“Ah. Well, you can always try my eggplant later.”
A few patrons turned to stare at them. Arthur just looked down at his watch, tapping nervously.
“Something the matter, darling? I expected at least one death threat from that.”
“You know I trust you, right?”
Eames frowned. “Of course.”
“Which is why I told you about my safehouses.”
The room got quieter as more diners looked over.
“Arthur,” Eames hissed.
Arthur leaned in and murmured, “Do you still have the list?”
“Of course not.” Eames scowled. “I memorized it, like you said, then burned it.”
“I need to make sure you remember them.”
“Darling, what the fuck is going on?”
“Eames, please.”
Eames looked at Arthur’s urgent expression, then started muttering addresses and coordinates into his ear.
Five safehouses in, Eames looked up and saw their reflection in the restaurant window. He froze, throat dry.
Blond.
The fake Arthur caught Eames’ expression and followed his gaze to the window. “Damn. I guess that’ll do.” He checked his watch, lips twisting into an unnatural smirk. “Bye, Eames.”
He disappeared. Moments later, the restaurant started collapsing in on itself, and–
Eames woke up chained to a chair. The seat beside him was still warm and had a note resting on it.
To the ‘best’ forger around: I’ll give darling Arthur your regards.