Even though Arthur knew about the switch in Eames' wooing strategy from his previous eavesdropping, he still didn't have to be happy about it. Even if Eames' constant questioning was starting to be less annoying and just the tiniest bit endearing.
"So…" Eames rolled his head back so he was staring at the ceiling. "Solomon."
"Yes?" Arthur responded to his last name instinctually. A heavy moment of silence passed. "You have my attention, Eames."
"Oh, that's not what I meant."
Arthur sighed, exasperated. "What did you mean, then?"
"Your last name. I've never heard it before. Never met any Solomons."
"Well, It's my name. And you've met me."
"Where does it come from?"
"My parents." Arthur answered flatly. He was seriously getting tired of Eames asking him dumb questions instead of actually doing his potions work, like he was supposed to.
"No, no, like where does it come from?"
Arthur nearly bashed his head against their shared cauldron. It would be a painful death, but well worth it. "Are you trying to ask me about the lineage of my name?"
"It's a conversation, isn't it?" Eames replied.
"And a conversation with you is just as painful as a bath full of Grindylows."
Eames smirked. "Well, thank you for that."
Oddly enough, Eames went back to his work after that, chopping up roots with a skilled and delicate hand, scraping them into the pot with a measured wariness. The relative silence hung between them for the next several minutes, and Arthur didn't mind at all.
Eventually, their work dwindled to nothing more than stirring for one partner and watching for the other. That was when Arthur finally spoke up.
"It's Hebrew." He said softly. "Solomon."
"So you're…" Eames said cautiously, not wanting to scare Arthur out of the conversation.
"Jewish. We're Jewish. My whole family, actually."
"Your mum, too?"
"Yeah." Arthur leaned against their counter casually. "My dad likes to say 'Jews marry Jews', but…"
"I don't know how I feel about that." Eames frowned. "No offense."
"No, no, I'm with you." Arthur assured him. "My dad says a lot of things like that. 'Jews marry Jews', 'Boys marry girls', and-"
"You disagree with him?" Eames interrupted.
"Eames…" Arthur turned away, but Eames caught his wrist just in time.
"Me too."
Arthur blinked at him, surprised at his… everything. "Eames…" Arthur glanced down at Eames' hand, still wrapped around his wrist.
Eames let go without blinking. "Sorry."
"Don't be." Arthur waved him off without sparing him a second glance. "I've got to go…"
"Yeah, me too, I'll uh, see you." Eames turned to gather his things, but Arthur was already gone.