[ He does something he doesn't do often and pouts, bottom lip sticking right out and the thin line of flesh pulling right down. ] I miss him. I actually miss our stupid dog. [ He throws a warning look. ] And don't mock me, it's your fault I love him so much.

[ He pushes the thought aside, something he's grown good at over the years, but since Eames somehow managed to lower all of his walls it's not as easy as it used to be, and sometimes, sometimes, he wonders if that might be as bad as it is good, especially with the threat hovering over them still. He rolls over and pushes himself up onto his hands, holding himself above Eames.] I'm fine, Eames, stop worrying. That's my job, remember? But we should get up otherwise we never will.