@thepointman
“-And he’s gonna be your toughest competition, because while he might not be bigger than you, he’s a good four inches... Hey, you git, I’m talking to you.” Robbie stops from where he’s wrapping Eames’ knuckles to cuff him over the head; Eames has frozen, staring unblinkingly through the doorway of the locker room, his attention caught by someone passing by.
He doesn’t respond to Robbie’s taunt, doesn’t even flinch at the light hit. Instead, he narrows his eyes, shoulders tensing underneath his hoodie before he stands, pushing Robbie idly aside to stalk out of the locker room and into the hall.
A part of him hopes he’s wrong, that he hasn’t just seen Arthur moving down the hall, but sure enough, he catches up to him in time to step in front of him before Arthur rounds the corner to head back out into the main arena.
“Hey,” he says, accusatory, like Arthur is somehow intruding on his turf. “What are you doing here?” He looks surprised, and a little miffed, and maybe even uncomfortably unsettled, though he hides it well under a tough, bristling exterior. His mind clamors for a reason for Arthur to be here, but he draws up a blank. Dom has been out of the game for a long time. Does he have a new fighter? There’s a chance he’s here to watch, but Eames knows Arthur has never enjoyed this for the spectacle. There has to be some sort of gain, the same reason Eames fights.
All at once, he regrets confronting him, if only because it draws up far too many painful memories. Eames shoves that down, however, deciding to turn every ounce of hurt and reminiscence into frustration and annoyance. Mostly, he’s frustrated because now he’s totally distracted, but that’s his own fault, not Arthur’s. Doesn’t mean he can’t blame him.