One day earlier:
"No!" A loud bang as he threw his binder onto the table, followed by a short pause as he shut his eyes briefly. Composing himself, Eames knew. He bolted foward and raised a finger at Mr. McGraw. A softer tone. A tone of finality. "No." Almost a reminder. Bobby rested his hand against the table and leaned over so his gaze could easily meet Mr. McGraw's haughty eyes.
"You don't get to play." Bobby said softly, seriously. Then he added, his voice changing with a lighter tone. A small eerie smile playing at his lips. "This isn't your game, Johnny."
Eames watched as Bobby straightened up, circling to the otherside of the table. He said forcefully, "My rules." Bobby pointed to himself with four fingers. "My game." He raised his hand and shook his finger, "You can't manipulate me. Nuh uh."
McGraw had a defiant look as he stared down Bobby, Bobby staring back, his grin widening. Eames found the staring contest a little frightening. McGraw's stoic gaze. Silent and deep. Confident. Angry. There was angry, and Eames was reassured somewhat that her partner would sniff it out if he hadn't already, and devour it whole.
Bobby's grin never wavered, and the stare down seemed endless. But as soon as it'd started, it ended. Bobby suddenly canting his head to the side, his grin fading. He looked down briefly to smooth out his tie as he sat down in the chair across from McGraw. A long pause.
"It's okay, Johnny." Bobby said, in a sympathetic voice. He looked over at Eames who looked back. Silent communication. His head turned back to McGraw. An amused look, his eyes glittering.
"We already know."