Hand throbbing and trembling slightly from the shock and pain of it, Arthur's left breathing heavily as he stares at the cracked mirror, some of the shards having fallen to the sink. He can distantly hear Eames at the door over the sounds of the bath filling.

There's no way to hide this. Even if Eames keeps a first-aid kit in the bathroom, there's the matter of the mirror.

"I slipped and hit the mirror," he answers distantly, lifting his bloody hand to examine the knuckles, spotting the tiny pieces of glass embedded in the red mess. "... I'm okay."

At least the pain is a welcome distraction from how uncomfortable his chest is feeling.