Character not mine…

Oh, that way madness lies…

Now wasn't that a surprise… Eames instantly knew why he generally avoided the warehouse at the end of the day. He had known that Cobb had lost his marbles when he saw him at the poker table in Mombasa. A six-foot touch-me-not made of Semtex. And Arthur… Mister Professionalism from the Harvard fucking School of Reliability. Condescending little prick, but about as stable as they got in this business.

Yeah, right – professionalism my arse.

Or Cobb's, from the looks of things. Finding the two of them going at it wouldn't have shocked Eames - normally. Hey, if there was anyone who enjoyed a little tipple after hours it was him. But the sheer force of Arthur's thrusts made him double-take. And Cobb, bent over his own desk – could it be more cliché – was just taking it, actually shoving himself back into it. His eyes screwed shut, knuckles white from the tight grip on the edge of the table, completely lost in the hard pounding he was getting from his point man. Eames was sure there was a dreadful pun in there somewhere but he couldn't be bothered.

"Harder."

The word sounded like it had been wrenched out of Cobb's throat. His voice was strained, rough, almost painful. Eames had heard him after one vodka-shot too many, but the drunken grinding through the octaves paled in contrast with this.

And Arthur…Arthur just tightened his grip on Cobb's hair, pulling him back callously, thrusting with even greater force than before. And the look in his eyes…it would have been interesting to see Composure-Man so unguarded if it hadn't been so sickeningly sad. His eyes were darker than usual, more black than brown, and so void of any emotion they conveyed more than any heartfelt confession ever could.

So, that's what devotion gone off the rails looked like…

Eames turned around, shutting the door silently behind him. He made his way to the nearest bar, planning on drinking himself into a good sound stupor that would let him forget that he had to depend on those two nutcases to get the most complicated job in dreamshare done: Cobb out of his mind with grief and guilt and Arthur so mixed up into all of it that he was even willing to be Cobb's tool for self-punishment. Maybe someday, he could use what he had seen today for a forge. But for tonight –

"Whisky, double."