The phone rings. They lock eyes.
The phone rings. Arthur's eyebrows furrow. Eames' lips twitch.
The phone rings. They bolt. Arthur shoves Eames. Eames sticks a leg out, tripping him.
Arthur sprints to the kitchen.
Eames walks away.
"Hello?!" Arthur answers. He cringes at his frantic tone. He clears his throat, repeats. "Hello."
No answer.
He lowers the phone. Arthur can feel blood rushing to his ears as he gapes at the screen. Low battery.
He glares at the unplugged charger as Eames laughs from their bedroom.
"Why of course, Mrs. Arthur. We would love to visit for the holidays."