Arthur blinked once then twice as it dawned on him the exact painting Eames was referring to. "No, never," Arthur mused with a slow smile. Fuck. "It's a deal, Mr. Eames," he said, looking at him as he cupped the back of his neck and pressed another deep kiss to the forger's lips with a low groan.

He'd forgotten how much he had enjoyed talking about good old fashioned theft and heists. It was what had begun his descent into the criminal world along with his parents. "Looks like I'm heading to France in the near future," he murmured with a smile.

It was a challenge that he was absolutely looking forward to. Though, he would admit, Eames was fucking brilliant if he had been able to pass his paintings off as originals for as long as he had.