Eames raises an eyebrow, amused, and he moves to step up close to Arthur. Right into Arthur's personal space. He sucks in a breath and smirks — intentionally close enough to kiss, but he doesn't. He just speaks, voice low, eyes roaming over Arthur's face.

"Let's not dance around the topic," he slips a couple fingers under Arthur's waistband and gives it a light tug, "it's not a drink you want me to stay for."