"Don't move. I'll get you out of here," he assured him. Glancing back at the door before moving closer to Eames. "How much have they give you," he asked. "Are you drugged? Too weak?"

Even as he asked it, he took hold of the chains. Gathering some in both hands. He wasn't playing games here, not trying to hide anything. Not because of the drugs, but that he wasn't willing to risk Eames with going slow. Instead he jerked and twisted, tearing the chains like the kind of paper chains children made from construction paper at Christmas.

"Come on, Eames. We have to get you out of here." More than that, he knew that if he could get Eames somewhere safe, he could come here and finish them off.