THE AMERICAN PORNO FLICK MEME
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Eames slips into the room, silent save for the rustle of his jeans- yes Arthur, his jeans, the ones you call work 'inappropriate' even thought they're just jeans. Leaning on the doorframe, Eames appreciates the shape of Arthur's body from behind before he says, *
Be truthful with me darling, do you live here?
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He groans, * You're killing me Arthur. This is not your life, this is your job.
Your life is out there, * Eames motions to the front door (which, technically, is through the belly of the warehouse, but Eames isnt one to split hairs), a place that sees far less of Arthur than it does of Eames. * Life means beer and cards and getting laid!
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* That look? Thats the look of understanding, dawning across his face. Dirty, filthy, understanding. * Oh. So that's it. You get your rocks off here, innit?
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[A beat.] You are tracking my movements?
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* ACTIVATE INNOCENT MODE!
Shit... It's not so much innocent as it is just a less lascivious smirk. Well, so much for that. * Gotta know where to go to take you up on that cuppa, yeah?
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That's bordering on creepy, Eames.
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That's what happens when you lead a guy to six different apartments all leased under different aliases, none of which are the actual place you live. * Theres a compliment in there about how well Arthur's able to cover his tracks, but he's not exactly denying that following the other is pretty creep. *
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You're not exactly subtle. If you just want to come home with me, you could have asked. [Not that he would tell him. Arthur was just being smug now.]
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Why go home with you when you'd obviously much rather have me here? * Have me is a very lose term, and Eames doesnt even think about it before he says it. It's all good natured ribbing, right? Besides, Arthur doesnt- well. Eames doesnt know which way Arthur swings. All signs point to paperwork-sexual, but that can't be right. *
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I wouldn't have you anywhere. You're not my type. [He really wasn't, but maybe there was just a tiny sense of him that wanted the lack of control, to be completely undone.]
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* He shrugs, leaning a hip against the desk, trapping Arthur between himself, a wall, and the open filing cabinet. * That's the thing darling, I'm everyone's type. You like the busty blonde number? Or the brunette in the black dress? Or maybe Cobb's what you like, older, daddy issues maybe?
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