Eames doesn't care if he's stiff. He'll come around. Robert is not exactly starved for it, but he kind of has a look of a man who could use a bit of ruffling.

And Eames is going to provide just that and hope it works for his advantage.

He yanks them both inside, hustles Robert to a table and then waves at Madam Rosmerta to bring in a bottle and some glasses.

"I imagined you would. And probably no divination." Who would take divination? Except Eames, who had gotten a kick out of it. He and a bunch of girls, making astrological charts and talking about doom and gloom and occasionally about dark, tall stranger that would appear in their lives.