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[fahye]

Let's have a celebratory snippet!

Most of the projections seem to be engaged in filming some sort of period drama, which Arthur learns by wandering into a room full of lighting equipment and bored girls in large dresses. One of them, clicking her lighter a safe distance from the lace around her neck, gives him a look that could become suspicious given half a chance.

"Has anyone seen Johnson? If he's forgotten again..." Arthur tugs his cell out of his pocket, speed-dials a random number, and slams it next to his ear. "Christ," he snarls, and doesn't look to see if anyone's buying it before he stalks out of the room, pulse steady, feet light. This is his job. This is what he does.

Nevertheless, he's a bit thrown when someone answers the phone.

"Colin Firth speaking," says a familiar voice.

"Eames. Hold on." Arthur makes two lefts and finds the room he was looking for, barely more than a storage space. He lets himself in, closes the door, and leans against it. "Where are you?"

"The kitchens. Which are now craft services. I'm setting out sandwiches."

"Seen anyone else?"

"Yusuf started in the cellars, and now he's in raptures about our host's taste in Australian whites. He's going to try the second-floor bedrooms."

"Where do you think --"

"You know her better than I do."

Arthur leaves a beat of silence. This is easier over the phone. "Not necessarily," he says.

"Was that a compliment?"

"Keep calm, Mr Eames."

"This is a film set," Eames says. "I haven't seen an army yet. We've got some time to explore."