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Eames kept buying ridiculously expensive bottles of wine that he stacked in their kitchen. Eventually Arthur said, “Not that I mind, but you didn’t strike me as the wine-collector type.”
“I’m stockpiling,” said Eames.
Arthur lifted an eyebrow. “For a future wine shortage?”
“No.” Eames pulled out a bottle. “This is for us on her first day of school. And this one’s for us once she’s toilet-trained. And this one’s for when she loses her first tooth. I figure we’ll need to get a bit tipsy.”
Arthur considered. “What are you saving for her first date?”
“A shotgun,” said Eames.
“I’m stockpiling,” said Eames.
Arthur lifted an eyebrow. “For a future wine shortage?”
“No.” Eames pulled out a bottle. “This is for us on her first day of school. And this one’s for us once she’s toilet-trained. And this one’s for when she loses her first tooth. I figure we’ll need to get a bit tipsy.”
Arthur considered. “What are you saving for her first date?”
“A shotgun,” said Eames.
