He waited, knowing he would compel him if he had to, if he didn't start drinking. Then he felt the flicker of tongue against his skin. Arthur sighed, slumping though he didn't pull away. Letting him take what he needed, trying not to think about what it was he was doing, what he would have to admit.

He hadn't shared with anyone in so long. He knew that if he wasn't careful over the next day or so, Eames would be turned. At least this way though, he'd live. He wouldn't die here because of what they'd done to him.

"Okay," he murmured, pulling his arm away. "That's enough. You okay to walk," he asked, imagining how it was realizing he had healed. They didn't have time for this, if he was honest. Not to talk about it here and now. Later though, later he'd tell Eames all he needed to know.

"If you're okay, we should go."