Eames has been eyeing the drinks cart, debating on whether or not to get another - not that he's worried about getting drunk and making a tit of himself, but some people find it unseemly for someone to be putting that much away - so it's hard to miss when Jackson tips over the glass of blood.

He laughs at that, finally electing to pour himself another glass of wine, and raises an eyebrow at the mess on the tray. "Not quite your taste, I take it?"