[ There was something about the slide of two poker chips against each other that sent a little thrill down his spine, that made him want to lick his lips like he was about to devour a delightful sweetie. Arthur would always joke with him that rubbing two together wasn't going to make them multiply, but Arthur wasn't Eames, now was he? Not that these chips were what he was used to. Forging them would be harder than it looked, but he would learn - eventually. For now he had to play the legit way and that bit at him, poked at his professional pride.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair, tossing out chips as the cards were dealt, tugging open another button on his shirt. He was going to make the most of this night if it killed him. ]
People Watching / Thieving
He liked this, sitting out in the brisk February air, nursing a hot coffee with drift trails of steam, his eyes flicking over the crowd, the people around him. He watched the way they walked, the way they talked, the way a mouth twitched upwards in a smile or turned down in a frown, the way they twisted their fingers or played with their hair. This was his element, his true artistry at work. Watch, mimic, and go for the mark.
He pushed away from the table, left a chit for the coffee, slowly began to work his way through the crowd, flashing a smile, catching a shoulder, slipping a hand, and caught the mark.
Eames | Inception | Tags or Prose
[ There was something about the slide of two poker chips against each other that sent a little thrill down his spine, that made him want to lick his lips like he was about to devour a delightful sweetie. Arthur would always joke with him that rubbing two together wasn't going to make them multiply, but Arthur wasn't Eames, now was he? Not that these chips were what he was used to. Forging them would be harder than it looked, but he would learn - eventually. For now he had to play the legit way and that bit at him, poked at his professional pride.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair, tossing out chips as the cards were dealt, tugging open another button on his shirt. He was going to make the most of this night if it killed him. ]
People Watching / Thieving
He liked this, sitting out in the brisk February air, nursing a hot coffee with drift trails of steam, his eyes flicking over the crowd, the people around him. He watched the way they walked, the way they talked, the way a mouth twitched upwards in a smile or turned down in a frown, the way they twisted their fingers or played with their hair. This was his element, his true artistry at work. Watch, mimic, and go for the mark.
He pushed away from the table, left a chit for the coffee, slowly began to work his way through the crowd, flashing a smile, catching a shoulder, slipping a hand, and caught the mark.