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Created on 2011-12-27 07:17:06 (#1285221), last updated 2012-11-10 (657 weeks ago)
2,020 comments received, 1,094 comments posted
34 Journal Entries, 27 Tags, 0 Memories, 15 Icons Uploaded
| Name: | Eames |
|---|---|
| Birthdate: | Aug 4 |
| ♠FORGER | ||
|---|---|---|
 | Name: Eames Series: Inception Age: Early 30's Last Known Location: Plane from Syndney to Los Angeles Item: A red, clay poker chip Cabin: Level 6, Room 01 Inmate:  Jonathan CraneDisclaimer: This is for an RPG. I am not nor associated with Chris Nolan, Tom Hardy, or Warner Brothers. [Header/layout tweaking by imaginationlol] | |
| A man with matted brown hair was situated in the center of the small powder room. Both hands lifted to straighten the thick tie of some shade of pink around his neck before he smoothed it onto the off-white and brought the crisp, pressed tan fabric of his suit jacket together, buttoning the garment into place. His hairline was receding, making him look some years older than he was, and his eyes sat too closer together in such a way to make him look mousey without being noticeably bizarre. The lips were thin and dry and, staring at himself, he was half-disgusted with the reflection. “I see you've been practicing,” a woman offered as an announcement of her presence, stepping into the small room. The reflection of the man from Cobol turned to look behind him in the mirror. Eames, with his hair slicked back, a hairline which was perfectly attractive, eyes that were the correct distance, and considerably more fashion sense, broke his gaze from the altered reflection to look at his new coworker, the Point Man of their team. “His posture lacks confidence.” Eames himself was never short of confidence, but the man he was meant to be impersonating moved sporadically with a hunch so subtle it was hardly discernible if one were not looking for it specifically; it was a silent remark of the man's hesitation and doubt. The Forger gave his ally a smile before leading the way from the near-closet into the grand dining hall. “How much time do we have?” “If Yusuf's mixture is correct, ten seconds.” “No time to enjoy the décor then, hm? It's a shame.” Yusuf's compounds were always precise. The pair exchanged smiles anyway and waited as the last few seconds counted down, until they disappeared from the room of wood and gold to arrive back at the basic hotel room in which they had fallen asleep. The preparations were complete. | ||
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