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“Just hang on, Eames. Just stay right where you are and I’ll -”“No.”The word is like a hammer falling. Arthur is adrift for a moment, in his and Eames’ sunny kitchen, with a gun in one and and the phone in the other.“You’re not going to do that because it’s stupid,” Eames says, his voice tinny and strained. Arthur struggles to pick out sounds in the background, anything that might help him pinpoint Eames’ location. “And you’re not stupid, are you, Arthur?”“You can’t expect me to just -”“Yes. Yes, Arthur. You’re going to take everything you need, and you’re going to get yourself out of there, and you’re not going to come after me, because that’s what you have to do. Promise me.”Arthur feels like his feet are sinking into the floor, as if he’s not even the master of his own body as his mouth open and the words spill out, “I promise.”