[This holiday doesn't seem to be for Eames. He avoids the candy (the lanterns, the talks) whenever he can. He doesn't feel loss as keenly as others, and when he does feel it, he'd rather ignore it than deal with it. But that doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate it for the lovely sentiment it is.
He's sitting on a bench outside with a lantern in his hands that he just couldn't refuse this time, staring down at it in thought.] Bloody lantern, [he eventually says with a sigh.]
b. down with the sickness
[It's toward the end of May when Eames actually gets sick, which is awful with communal housing. He doesn't quarantine himself exactly, because of it, and spends a lot of time in a library, just sitting at a table and sketching things between sniffles. At the moment, it's more like him scratching remarks onto his paper like 'Heaven is where tissues are never needed' and 'Ughhhhh'.]
c. down with the sickness
[When he's not there, he's lying in bed, holding his stomach, on floor 1. He wipes at his nose with a kleenex, then reaches out his arm to let it flop into the overloaded trash can beside him. It's not just tissues!! But there are a lot of tissues, he'll admit. Maybe he should be responsible for himself and clean up around his bed. Maybe his stomach should be responsible and stop being queasy.
Eames reaches for the glass of water beside his bed, bringing it up so he can sip at it-
And completely misses his mouth, making a sad noise when he gets his shirt wet. This is getting stupid.]
Eames | Inception
[This holiday doesn't seem to be for Eames. He avoids the candy (the lanterns, the talks) whenever he can. He doesn't feel loss as keenly as others, and when he does feel it, he'd rather ignore it than deal with it. But that doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate it for the lovely sentiment it is.
He's sitting on a bench outside with a lantern in his hands that he just couldn't refuse this time, staring down at it in thought.] Bloody lantern, [he eventually says with a sigh.]
b. down with the sickness
[It's toward the end of May when Eames actually gets sick, which is awful with communal housing. He doesn't quarantine himself exactly, because of it, and spends a lot of time in a library, just sitting at a table and sketching things between sniffles. At the moment, it's more like him scratching remarks onto his paper like 'Heaven is where tissues are never needed' and 'Ughhhhh'.]
c. down with the sickness
[When he's not there, he's lying in bed, holding his stomach, on floor 1. He wipes at his nose with a kleenex, then reaches out his arm to let it flop into the overloaded trash can beside him. It's not just tissues!! But there are a lot of tissues, he'll admit. Maybe he should be responsible for himself and clean up around his bed. Maybe his stomach should be responsible and stop being queasy.
Eames reaches for the glass of water beside his bed, bringing it up so he can sip at it-
And completely misses his mouth, making a sad noise when he gets his shirt wet. This is getting stupid.]