It gets lonely, dreaming alone. That's what Arthur tells himself, when he's not telling himself it's just the drugs they use messing with his subconscious; he's been around the guy too often lately; dreams don't actually mean anything anyway.

That's why, out of the swirling random chaos of his natural dreams, a grinning face emerges, followed by a body too loose and casual in its movements to be anything but completely feral just underneath. Eames peers around his frenzied surroundings in distaste, saying, "I said bigger, my love, not... this."

He wraps a hand around Arthur's and takes him far, far away.