Prague held memories, though in this day and age, Eames feels everywhere holds memories. Some good, some bad. Some Seattle. All differing levels of memories, of emotions, of how bad things might be. From meeting Mal, meeting Arthur, to Inception, to Rose Red.

Prague fell somewhere between, though he and Arthur had one of their first jobs together here and he had fond memories of that.

It's those thoughts on his mind as he watches a woman in a red shirt come closer. He sees the book, staring at it. He tells himself anyone could have found out about the book, about Mal, but he doesn't believe that. She'd gotten the book from Mal.

What she wanted from Eames was another story.

"Long live the Count," he says, at least glad he's had time to get himself composed. "There's a cafe two blocks down with outdoor seating. Let me buy you a coffee?"

Of course he has plans to move from this sight now that he's seen her. He's not letting himself be caught here if she had planned an ambush.