||[Nov. 26th, 2012|12:05 pm]
|||||Aimee Mann: Pavlov's Bell||]|
Arthur, you're so bloody... germaphobic, kitten, do you -
Eames, catching the look of annoyance and possible contemplation of harm Arthur was currently sending in his direction at the same time his thought turned round a corner and went off down a rather mischievous corridor, decided to hell, finish said thought -
Do you even wash your mice clean before you eat them? Oh Arthur! That's so bad for you! Loses all the nice fresh blood that way, oh, no wonder you're so bloody thin and anemic-looking...
Ariadne, losing sight of her attempt at appearing like she wasn't listening, admitted defeat and let loose a torrent of giggles.
Yusuf, in the corner tinkering at something, raised his head at Ariadne's laughter as if for all the world he had no idea what caused it.
Athur's ears were pink. Not just the tips. ALL of them. His darling little ears... Eames mused over what noises Arthur might make were he, Eames, to go over and (provided he could successfully first disarm Arthur) just... nibble a little bit on them. Really. Just a little bit of a nibble. A taste, maybe... Oh. Wait. Arthur's talking.
Eames, just so you know, this particular kitten carries at least half a dozen throwing stars at any one given time.
Eames blinked. He'd have guessed three, maybe four, what with the two guns and the knife he knew about... Huh. Six?