"You'll have to forgive me if I pass," he responds lightly, as if it's really just a casual dinner invite he's passing up here. As if he's totally unaware of the temptation he can see on Cesare right now. Eames refills his glass idly, thankfully the last glass of the bottle, and takes a sip. "I think my tastes would run a little contrary to that of your guests."

Unless Cesare happens to know a bunch of vampires who desperately want to know what a chest full of wood feels like. Then Eames is eminently willing to help with that.