phone post

[orangetoughguy]

"Motherfucker, I'm trying to watch The Lost Boys."

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[orangetoughguy]

[Poor puppy.]

No. She'd kill me.

[Because of all the blood, though really nowadays Freddy has some leverage where she's concerned. Wait a second.]

Why do you have a will? [This better be a joke!!]

[signatures]

[ Eames tries to give Freddy his best withering look from the backseat, but it's only a pained, fatigued glower. This face isn't really prone to looking altogether too upset so it might be akin to finding Samara on your television, but whatever. ]

We have the chance of being killed every other weekend in this bloody place - or outright disappearing - and you're asking me why I'm constructing a will?

[ Also whose car is this... ]

I look like a burst grapefruit. [ Fuck, fuck, fuck.

When Arthur died, he came back - but without a heartbeat, always cold to the touch. The price to get so much of a glimmer of warmth back, Eames still thinks, was too much. ]

If I pass out, you're my proxy.

[orangetoughguy]

[He drives the car like somebody stole it for him. Also what's with that face Eames stop making it!]

Am I in it? I don't wanna get left with another animal.

[That bird of Ariadne's, while worth a heavy weight in sentimental value, was not something he and White could keep for long. The most important part is Freddy made sure he sent it somewhere it could stay alive! (The zoo.)]

No shit, motherfucker, you've been shot in the belly--!! I can't take that kind of responsibility!

[signatures]

[ What kind of assholes parse off their gifts :|

oh wait these ones. ]

What year were you born?

[ He's going somewhere with is if he doesn't black out before he gets there, shifting (sliding, rather) uncomfortably in the seat as he presses his hands harder into his abdomen. ]

Your birthday.

[orangetoughguy]

[Better parsed off and alive than held onto and...well. If Ariadne ever does return the bird ought to be there for her and that's that!]

Uh, 1965?

[Where are you going with this, Eamesy. Because he's rolling and bleeding and probably getting squished with the dog Freddy doesn't hesitate to answer.]

December 21.

[signatures]

You freckled arse.

[ Have another look as Eames attempts to straighten up in the backseat. All of these nice clothes are going to be ruined by blood, thanks City. Also his stamina. Also the whole losing gallons of blood thing. ]

You're older than me, the least you could do is be my proxy!

[orangetoughguy]

No I'm not look at you look at me! [Still tight scrotum compared to the leathery thing Eames has.] What if I do it wrong!

[He's never had to manage anyone's personal affects before. Booking things into evidence doesn't count. Fortunately the hospital's not far away. Eames isn't going to die. Right??]

What if your dog wants to leave home!

[signatures]

The dog's more Arthur's than mine, anyway. [ Even if... maybe that's missing the point, but whatever. And even if Eames ends up walking the fat dog plenty of times because Arthur works late at the casino and thus sleeps late. Even if mostly that just entails letting him out into the backyard, these days - Eames should have gone for that option today, apparently. ]

You can't do it wrong. I want to be cremated and I don't believe in life support. See? It's easy.