"It fits my disposition, I suppose," Gerard replies, giving Eames' fingers a squeeze before letting go. He begins shedding clothing while he speaks, then. Eames said they could swim, so damn it, he's going to. He never could in a place like this in real life - enough run-ins with the leavings of the Dark, the Buried, the Lonely to ever want to try cave diving.

"Overwhelming curiosity, a horrible need to know, even being fully aware you will regret having that knowledge. At least, that's what I figure," he says, crouching down to take off his boots.

He has a small birthmark on his stomach, an almost heart-shaped smear of tan just above his navel. It's completely covered up by scar tissue in reality, but here, in the dream, the only marks his skin has are the tattoos and piercings, the marks he chose.

"As for how I endure it - I dunno. I never really had a choice not to. It's deal with it or give up and die."