"Yeah, I know," Eames says with a quick glance up at Arthur's face. "Just saying it's going to hurt." It comes out like an apology, with a worried frown.

He drags a hamper in front of Arthur and perches on the edge of it, tweezers come out of the kit, disinfectant sloshed onto Arthur's knuckles in liberal amounts, onto the tweezers as well. Then he gets to work, as gently as possible removing the shards, diligently, bit by bit, his other hand holding Arthur's while he holds the tweezers in his other.

"Are you alright?" he asks somewhere along the way. "Tell me if you have another dizzy spell and we'll take a break."