Eames is, as is becoming a constant for him, tired. Tired and just about done with everything. The Court has been in a tizzy since Samantha was anointed; what does the new Mother of Witches intend, she so brazenly carts around a familiar, blah blah blah. And yet the response from most was, as always, "let's wait and see." As if immortality means never meaning to raise a fucking finger. At least one had called it 'youthful impetuousness' that made him so insistent about dealing with this now, but Eames knows mortals. Better dealt with sooner than later.

It's what makes him opt to talk to Natasha; uniquely placed as she is, even if she won't give away any secrets her insight is still useful. He arrives in the evening once he's freed up for the day, bottle of gin in his hand when he knocks on the door and waits patiently for her to answer.