He almost wished they were still in the car, still on the run. Then he wouldn't have to face this, see Eames' eyes as they talked about what he was, and the life he's led. What he is. Yet he came in, seeking out the other man as he came into the living room.

"Well, least we'll have beds," he offered, trying to do well and make light of it all. "Until they get here and we have to kill more." He wasn't a fan of killing, he really wasn't, but it wasn't going to stop him.