Archy raises eyebrow; Yusuf unimpressed
OKAY. I am the worst person alive but Eames the Liar Part 8 is FINALLY HERE. I would like to take this moment to offer a heaping mess of apologies for suddenly vanishing like that. I can't say my life has been busy, but it's not been easy either, if you know what I mean, and all of a sudden it became really difficult to write fanfiction. Updates may continue to be a little more sporadic from here but rest assured, this WILL be finished.
Also you might wanna get used to cliffhangers, they're probably gonna keep happening for a few chapters. Sorry.
Okay, this one is rated Fuck The MPAA and it contains the usual quota of language, some psychological warfare and some bad kink. Actually let's just say it's rated Johnny Quid Is A Scary Fuck.
Everybody breathe! In we go.
New readers start here.
“So, Mr. Doyle,” he says. “Only that isn’t your name, is it? Archy fed me an whole entrée of horseshit over you, didn’t he?”
I can’t move. I’m lying on the floor like an idiot, gingerly making sure my nose isn’t broken, and he’s just pacing around slowly like a skinny deadly predator.
“So what’s your real name, then?” he asks, and he squats down to get a better look at me. “You look like an Arthur. Are you an Arthur?”
I don’t know how the fuck he’s gotten there because I’m not thinking straight, but my face twitches and gives me away.
“You know, I think there’s an Arthur what works with the famous Mr. Eames,” he says cheerfully. “I was just having the craziest dream about him. And you were there.” He smiles at me. “Say. I’ll bet you’re that Arthur, aren’t you. Lots of rumors about you two an’ all. ‘Course Eames didn’t look like himself then, but neither did I. You know how dreams are.”
I cannot even process this. For a panicked moment I think Eames has actually betrayed me; but this is shortly swallowed up in logic and anger. “What did you do to him?” I snarl, and his hand latches around my throat and he stands up with me and pushes me away. I stagger and stand there and stare reproachfully.
“He turned tail and ran,” he says. “Had better things to do that seek you out, I guess.”
I know what he’s doing here and I’m not going to let him do it. I don’t say anything.
“So I imagine, you being as pretty as you are,” he says, strolling around me, looking me up and down, “that you two are a right happy couple. Am I right? You don’t seem Bob’s type, but I guess people do change after all, don’t they.”
“Look,” I say, but there is really nothing for me to tell him. “What do you want?”
He smiles. It’s creepy. “Nothing,” he says. “Nothing you can give me, anyway.” He slinks closer and I hold my ground, right up until he’s in my face, breathing me. “But if I know old Bob, and the way Bob was acting about you, I reckon you mean something to him. And I reckon he’s not gonna just let you suffer in here, will he?”
Maybe it’s the panic, but I actually laugh. “I’m bait now?” I say. “You have got to be kidding me.”
His fist jams into my stomach and I can’t breathe, and my knees hit the floor and I’m gasping and choking.
“Believe it, princess,” he says from above. “And enjoy it while you can. As of right now it’s the only thing keeping you alive.”
So by now I’m getting an inkling that Johnny maybe knows something about dream-sharing, maybe played us at our own game in there and that’s why I’m in this handbasket. And as much as I hate being here, as much as I’m convinced I’m about to have a really incredibly unpleasant experience, I know he’s right: Eames is not about to take this lying down, to the point where I don’t really understand how Johnny thinks he’ll still come out on top if Eames bursts in with guns blazing. It’s that, that and Johnny’s self-assured grin as he watches me attempt to recover some semblance of dignity that convinces me he is either completely insane, or he has something else going on.
Fortunately, Eames is pretty smart, and this is one of the things he’s working on as he paces our room at the inn like a caged wild animal.
Yusuf is sitting on the bed, and has been trying unsuccessfully to calm him the hell down.
“Eames, calm the hell down,” he says wearily for about the eighth time in as many minutes.
“You fucking calm down!” he says.
“I am calm. I’m just sitting here,” says Yusuf. “What more do you want?”
“Of course you are,” says Eames furiously. “This isn’t your responsibility, you’re barely even involved. You weren’t being unbelievably stupid inside, you didn’t let this happen. This isn’t your staggeringly stupid fault.”
“For the love of Christ, get a hold of yourself,” says Yusuf, stands up, takes him by the shoulders and gives him a good shake. “You are no good to Arthur or anyone like this. Do you think he’d be losing his mind if your positions were reversed?”
Eames pushes Yusuf away and turns to the wall. “They wouldn’t be reversed,” he says. “Arthur would never have let this happen.”
“Eames, it’s hardly your fault,” says Yusuf. “You couldn’t have known. No one could ever have guessed about One Two.”
Eames knocks the lamp off the table and Yusuf takes this as a cue to shut up for a few minutes.
Yusuf is rescued from having to discuss this any further by a knock on the door. Eames either hasn’t heard it or has no intention of answering it, so Yusuf goes to open it, because he thinks it’s Kent, because who else would it be?
Kent is sleeping the experience off in his room, and it’s One Two.
“Speak of the devil,” says Yusuf and stands back and folds his arms.
One Two ignores Yusuf and looks across the room at Eames, who’s turned to stare at him expressionlessly.
“Bob,” he says sheepishly. “Can I come in?”
Eames doesn’t speak, beckoning once. Yusuf closes the door behind One Two and turns to watch, because he knows this is probably gonna be real good.
Nothing is said for a few moments. One Two takes a shuffling step closer, and Eames might seem speechless, but One Two was never good with words and Eames is the first to talk.
“What the fuck,” he says.
“Look, Bob, I know this is-it looks wrong,” says One Two.
“You’re bloody well right it does!” says Eames, taking such a violent step forward and One Two flinches and puts his hands up protectively.
“Just-just calm down, all right?” says One Two a little irritably. “Let me fuckin’ explain.”
Eames wants to punch him so badly that it takes him a few moments to realize he has actually punched him.
“What the fuck yourself!” says One Two, picking himself up.
“So fuckin’ explain,” says Eames, and he’s rarin’ to go, ready to knock his old friend through the wall if he can manage it. “Tell me to calm down again, go on. Traitorous bastard.”
“Steady the fuck on,” says One Two angrily, and the explosion is imminent, which is what makes Yusuf a real man for getting between them.
“Eames,” says Yusuf sternly. “While I don’t necessarily not support this, I think we can all agree it is not the most productive use of our presently limited time.”
Eames shuts up and turns to breathe heavily at the wall, because he knows Yusuf is right. One Two shuts up and sullenly massages his jaw because Yusuf used a double negative and it confused him.
“All right?” says Yusuf. “Everybody play nice now. I’ll be right over here.” And he goes back to the bed and sits down, wishing more than anything that this was a nice hotel where he could ring for a cup of tea without suffering the judgment of the already agitated staff.
Eames continues to face the wall. One Two wants to talk, but caught in the dilemma of finding the right opening statement Eames beats him to it once again.
“I was so happy to find you alive,” he says. “You have no idea how worried I was.”
One Two nods. “Yeah,” he says. “Same here.”
Eames turns around. “I’ve really missed you, One Two.”
One Two nods again, uncomfortable as ever with the sharing of emotions but not wanting to ruin this lovely moment.
This, again, is something Eames is happy to do for him. “And yet already you have fucked things up so completely that I’m starting to forget why.”
One Two swallows all his dignity and pride, like he’s been getting good at lately. “I know,” he says. “Just let me explain, Bob.”
“Stop calling me Bob,” says Eames through his teeth.
“Okay,” says One Two, and he sighs. “Things got… complicated after we all split. You and Mumbles disappeared, there were all these rumors that one of you was dead-”
“Right, and correct me if I’m wrong, but we were afforded that shitstorm because a certain man who is now your boss refused us the help he owed us,” says Eames. “Isn’t that how it went?”
“Yes,” says One Two impatiently. “But you and Mumbles got out, and I wasn’t so lucky, all right? And then he turned around and offered me the job. Said it was by way of apology. I tried to tell him it was too late for that and I wasn’t interested, but I didn’t have much of a choice, did I? It was the only way I could keep under the radar until things cooled off, and by then I had steady pay, and have you ever tried telling Johnny you want to stop doing something for him? I never thought it would all go up in flames like this, I can tell you that.”
Eames absorbs all this somewhat unwillingly, arms folded tight across his chest, but eventually he nods. “Do you know for a fact that Mumbles got out?” he says.
One Two looks surprised by the question, and he hesitates before answering. “Well, no,” he says. “I always kind of assumed.”
“My understanding was one of you was dead,” says Eames.
“Where’d you hear that?”
“Read it,” says Eames, and defaults back to pacing. “It was in the background files Arthur dug up. Didn’t specify who.”
“Well Christ, Bo-uh, Eames, that could’ve meant you for all we know,” says One Two. “I mean you did disappear and change your name.”
“Didn’t change it,” says Eames. “I started using it.”
One Two doesn’t know what to say to that, and Eames is making him nervous, so he turns to Yusuf. “Okay, well, now I’m open to suggestions. Johnny doesn’t know I followed you and I reckon I’ve got about twenty minutes tops before he notices.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” says Eames. “I’m sure he’s having a fine time getting carried away with my partner. Won’t even notice the time going.”
“Look, I am sorry about that,” says One Two. “It just seemed-”
“I don’t want to hear about it,” says Eames, turning sharply. “You’re going to take us back there and we’re going to get Arthur out and fuck off. You can come with us or take your chances here, it doesn’t much matter to me.”
“And we’re dealing with Johnny how…?” ventures Yusuf, thinking of that nice cup of tea.
“We’ll shoot him in the head if we have to,” says Eames, and both One Two and Yusuf kind of want to laugh at the absurdity of such a suggestion, but Eames isn’t fucking around and both of them choke it back.
Luckily, the voice of reason comes to their rescue. “Oh I wouldn’t recommend that,” says Archy, stepping in and closing the door. One Two and Eames both completely lose their composure and recoil in graceless surprise, leaving Archy to smirk disapprovingly at them (this was an expression Archy had been working on for some time, and he’d gotten it down to a pretty good science). Yusuf sighs audibly.
“Oh jolly good, the whole gang’s here,” he says.
Archy raises an eyebrow at him. Yusuf is unimpressed.
“I remember you,” says Archy. “Used to sell drugs up in Whitechapel, didn’t you?”
“And elsewhere as well,” mutters Yusuf, thoroughly uninterested in going into this.
“Well; what a lucky thing Johnny doesn’t know you’re here,” says Archy. “Now, I can tell you all right off there’ll be no shooting Mr. Quid in the head, as it wouldn’t end well for any of you and it might well not kill him even if you managed it. Run and fetch that spineless toff you brought with you, this concerns him too.”
“Yes, well, what’s your fantastic plan, then?” says Yusuf, standing up and turning to face the intruder. “And it better not involve feeding us to Johnny as retribution for fucking up utterly.”
“Actually it does,” says Archy. “But that is not the full extent of it, so shut the fuck up and listen.”
“So let me get this straight,” I’m saying, mostly to distract myself, mostly to keep up the increasingly weak illusion that I’m still pretty confident that I’m going to come out of this okay, “not only are you already deep in this business, but you’re a forger as well. Is that what I’m to understand?”
“Sure,” says Johnny. “If you like.”
In the time it’s taken me to figure this out, because Johnny’s unconcern for the whole situation means he’s pretty open to answering questions, Johnny has managed to suspend me about two inches off the floor, hanging by my wrists from some kind of fucking pulley system he’s got rigged up. My feet can touch the floor, but only enough to sort of scramble around in a pathetic circle with an extremely insignificant maximum radius, which I haven’t done, mostly to avoid looking stupid, as if this is a real concern right now. I would have thought I could take him out before anything like this happened, but this fucker is fast. All it took was a knee to my sternum and I was pretty much locked in. Now he’s strolling around taking his time while the blood drains from my arms.
“So why’d you let us go in?” I ask, desperate to keep him talking.
Johnny shrugs. “I like to live dangerously,” he says. “And I was pretty curious who set this whole thing up. Archy was my second guess, you know. Should have been my first. He’s the only one who really fits the bill-there’s plenty of people who could get you in and out and might have a reason to, but only Archy is both smart enough and stupid enough to actually pull it off. Poor Uncle Archy.” He smiles. I find myself wishing he’d put his sunglasses back on.
And as if all this wasn’t bad enough, it turns out Johnny Quid sings.
“But if you think there’s something else / Well you’re right; there is / There’s something else.” This with a stupid kind of soft-shoe towards me, and the effect is nightmarish. “But if you think I’m gonna tell you / Think again; why should I even think of tellin’ you what there is? / Yeah, ‘cause silence is knowledge and knowledge is power.” He stops within reach of me and smiles up at me. He drops the tune and says apologetically, “Listen up, I just work here.”
“Reservoir Dogs called, they want their gimmick back,” is the first thing out of my smartass mouth, and I don’t have any time to think about how ungodly stupid a thing to say it is, because that’s when he stabs me.
-
Footnotes!
Doyle is a cheap reference to Arthur Conan Doyle, and NOT my submission for Arthur's actual last name, which is going to remain up in the air as Nolan wrote it.
True Story: Johnny is NOT making up this song; it's the last thirty seconds of the Andrew Bird song "Opposite Day," which I just HAPPENED to be listening to while writing this, and I stole it and voila, chapter finished. Thanks Andrew Bird. Andrew Bird is a happy string-using hipster and would probably be appalled at the application of his music, but oh well.
If you haven't seen Reservoir Dogs or don't at least know what that reference is about... get on that. Seriously.
Continues here.
Also you might wanna get used to cliffhangers, they're probably gonna keep happening for a few chapters. Sorry.
Okay, this one is rated Fuck The MPAA and it contains the usual quota of language, some psychological warfare and some bad kink. Actually let's just say it's rated Johnny Quid Is A Scary Fuck.
Everybody breathe! In we go.
New readers start here.
“So, Mr. Doyle,” he says. “Only that isn’t your name, is it? Archy fed me an whole entrée of horseshit over you, didn’t he?”
I can’t move. I’m lying on the floor like an idiot, gingerly making sure my nose isn’t broken, and he’s just pacing around slowly like a skinny deadly predator.
“So what’s your real name, then?” he asks, and he squats down to get a better look at me. “You look like an Arthur. Are you an Arthur?”
I don’t know how the fuck he’s gotten there because I’m not thinking straight, but my face twitches and gives me away.
“You know, I think there’s an Arthur what works with the famous Mr. Eames,” he says cheerfully. “I was just having the craziest dream about him. And you were there.” He smiles at me. “Say. I’ll bet you’re that Arthur, aren’t you. Lots of rumors about you two an’ all. ‘Course Eames didn’t look like himself then, but neither did I. You know how dreams are.”
I cannot even process this. For a panicked moment I think Eames has actually betrayed me; but this is shortly swallowed up in logic and anger. “What did you do to him?” I snarl, and his hand latches around my throat and he stands up with me and pushes me away. I stagger and stand there and stare reproachfully.
“He turned tail and ran,” he says. “Had better things to do that seek you out, I guess.”
I know what he’s doing here and I’m not going to let him do it. I don’t say anything.
“So I imagine, you being as pretty as you are,” he says, strolling around me, looking me up and down, “that you two are a right happy couple. Am I right? You don’t seem Bob’s type, but I guess people do change after all, don’t they.”
“Look,” I say, but there is really nothing for me to tell him. “What do you want?”
He smiles. It’s creepy. “Nothing,” he says. “Nothing you can give me, anyway.” He slinks closer and I hold my ground, right up until he’s in my face, breathing me. “But if I know old Bob, and the way Bob was acting about you, I reckon you mean something to him. And I reckon he’s not gonna just let you suffer in here, will he?”
Maybe it’s the panic, but I actually laugh. “I’m bait now?” I say. “You have got to be kidding me.”
His fist jams into my stomach and I can’t breathe, and my knees hit the floor and I’m gasping and choking.
“Believe it, princess,” he says from above. “And enjoy it while you can. As of right now it’s the only thing keeping you alive.”
So by now I’m getting an inkling that Johnny maybe knows something about dream-sharing, maybe played us at our own game in there and that’s why I’m in this handbasket. And as much as I hate being here, as much as I’m convinced I’m about to have a really incredibly unpleasant experience, I know he’s right: Eames is not about to take this lying down, to the point where I don’t really understand how Johnny thinks he’ll still come out on top if Eames bursts in with guns blazing. It’s that, that and Johnny’s self-assured grin as he watches me attempt to recover some semblance of dignity that convinces me he is either completely insane, or he has something else going on.
Fortunately, Eames is pretty smart, and this is one of the things he’s working on as he paces our room at the inn like a caged wild animal.
Yusuf is sitting on the bed, and has been trying unsuccessfully to calm him the hell down.
“Eames, calm the hell down,” he says wearily for about the eighth time in as many minutes.
“You fucking calm down!” he says.
“I am calm. I’m just sitting here,” says Yusuf. “What more do you want?”
“Of course you are,” says Eames furiously. “This isn’t your responsibility, you’re barely even involved. You weren’t being unbelievably stupid inside, you didn’t let this happen. This isn’t your staggeringly stupid fault.”
“For the love of Christ, get a hold of yourself,” says Yusuf, stands up, takes him by the shoulders and gives him a good shake. “You are no good to Arthur or anyone like this. Do you think he’d be losing his mind if your positions were reversed?”
Eames pushes Yusuf away and turns to the wall. “They wouldn’t be reversed,” he says. “Arthur would never have let this happen.”
“Eames, it’s hardly your fault,” says Yusuf. “You couldn’t have known. No one could ever have guessed about One Two.”
Eames knocks the lamp off the table and Yusuf takes this as a cue to shut up for a few minutes.
Yusuf is rescued from having to discuss this any further by a knock on the door. Eames either hasn’t heard it or has no intention of answering it, so Yusuf goes to open it, because he thinks it’s Kent, because who else would it be?
Kent is sleeping the experience off in his room, and it’s One Two.
“Speak of the devil,” says Yusuf and stands back and folds his arms.
One Two ignores Yusuf and looks across the room at Eames, who’s turned to stare at him expressionlessly.
“Bob,” he says sheepishly. “Can I come in?”
Eames doesn’t speak, beckoning once. Yusuf closes the door behind One Two and turns to watch, because he knows this is probably gonna be real good.
Nothing is said for a few moments. One Two takes a shuffling step closer, and Eames might seem speechless, but One Two was never good with words and Eames is the first to talk.
“What the fuck,” he says.
“Look, Bob, I know this is-it looks wrong,” says One Two.
“You’re bloody well right it does!” says Eames, taking such a violent step forward and One Two flinches and puts his hands up protectively.
“Just-just calm down, all right?” says One Two a little irritably. “Let me fuckin’ explain.”
Eames wants to punch him so badly that it takes him a few moments to realize he has actually punched him.
“What the fuck yourself!” says One Two, picking himself up.
“So fuckin’ explain,” says Eames, and he’s rarin’ to go, ready to knock his old friend through the wall if he can manage it. “Tell me to calm down again, go on. Traitorous bastard.”
“Steady the fuck on,” says One Two angrily, and the explosion is imminent, which is what makes Yusuf a real man for getting between them.
“Eames,” says Yusuf sternly. “While I don’t necessarily not support this, I think we can all agree it is not the most productive use of our presently limited time.”
Eames shuts up and turns to breathe heavily at the wall, because he knows Yusuf is right. One Two shuts up and sullenly massages his jaw because Yusuf used a double negative and it confused him.
“All right?” says Yusuf. “Everybody play nice now. I’ll be right over here.” And he goes back to the bed and sits down, wishing more than anything that this was a nice hotel where he could ring for a cup of tea without suffering the judgment of the already agitated staff.
Eames continues to face the wall. One Two wants to talk, but caught in the dilemma of finding the right opening statement Eames beats him to it once again.
“I was so happy to find you alive,” he says. “You have no idea how worried I was.”
One Two nods. “Yeah,” he says. “Same here.”
Eames turns around. “I’ve really missed you, One Two.”
One Two nods again, uncomfortable as ever with the sharing of emotions but not wanting to ruin this lovely moment.
This, again, is something Eames is happy to do for him. “And yet already you have fucked things up so completely that I’m starting to forget why.”
One Two swallows all his dignity and pride, like he’s been getting good at lately. “I know,” he says. “Just let me explain, Bob.”
“Stop calling me Bob,” says Eames through his teeth.
“Okay,” says One Two, and he sighs. “Things got… complicated after we all split. You and Mumbles disappeared, there were all these rumors that one of you was dead-”
“Right, and correct me if I’m wrong, but we were afforded that shitstorm because a certain man who is now your boss refused us the help he owed us,” says Eames. “Isn’t that how it went?”
“Yes,” says One Two impatiently. “But you and Mumbles got out, and I wasn’t so lucky, all right? And then he turned around and offered me the job. Said it was by way of apology. I tried to tell him it was too late for that and I wasn’t interested, but I didn’t have much of a choice, did I? It was the only way I could keep under the radar until things cooled off, and by then I had steady pay, and have you ever tried telling Johnny you want to stop doing something for him? I never thought it would all go up in flames like this, I can tell you that.”
Eames absorbs all this somewhat unwillingly, arms folded tight across his chest, but eventually he nods. “Do you know for a fact that Mumbles got out?” he says.
One Two looks surprised by the question, and he hesitates before answering. “Well, no,” he says. “I always kind of assumed.”
“My understanding was one of you was dead,” says Eames.
“Where’d you hear that?”
“Read it,” says Eames, and defaults back to pacing. “It was in the background files Arthur dug up. Didn’t specify who.”
“Well Christ, Bo-uh, Eames, that could’ve meant you for all we know,” says One Two. “I mean you did disappear and change your name.”
“Didn’t change it,” says Eames. “I started using it.”
One Two doesn’t know what to say to that, and Eames is making him nervous, so he turns to Yusuf. “Okay, well, now I’m open to suggestions. Johnny doesn’t know I followed you and I reckon I’ve got about twenty minutes tops before he notices.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” says Eames. “I’m sure he’s having a fine time getting carried away with my partner. Won’t even notice the time going.”
“Look, I am sorry about that,” says One Two. “It just seemed-”
“I don’t want to hear about it,” says Eames, turning sharply. “You’re going to take us back there and we’re going to get Arthur out and fuck off. You can come with us or take your chances here, it doesn’t much matter to me.”
“And we’re dealing with Johnny how…?” ventures Yusuf, thinking of that nice cup of tea.
“We’ll shoot him in the head if we have to,” says Eames, and both One Two and Yusuf kind of want to laugh at the absurdity of such a suggestion, but Eames isn’t fucking around and both of them choke it back.
Luckily, the voice of reason comes to their rescue. “Oh I wouldn’t recommend that,” says Archy, stepping in and closing the door. One Two and Eames both completely lose their composure and recoil in graceless surprise, leaving Archy to smirk disapprovingly at them (this was an expression Archy had been working on for some time, and he’d gotten it down to a pretty good science). Yusuf sighs audibly.
“Oh jolly good, the whole gang’s here,” he says.
Archy raises an eyebrow at him. Yusuf is unimpressed.
“I remember you,” says Archy. “Used to sell drugs up in Whitechapel, didn’t you?”
“And elsewhere as well,” mutters Yusuf, thoroughly uninterested in going into this.
“Well; what a lucky thing Johnny doesn’t know you’re here,” says Archy. “Now, I can tell you all right off there’ll be no shooting Mr. Quid in the head, as it wouldn’t end well for any of you and it might well not kill him even if you managed it. Run and fetch that spineless toff you brought with you, this concerns him too.”
“Yes, well, what’s your fantastic plan, then?” says Yusuf, standing up and turning to face the intruder. “And it better not involve feeding us to Johnny as retribution for fucking up utterly.”
“Actually it does,” says Archy. “But that is not the full extent of it, so shut the fuck up and listen.”
“So let me get this straight,” I’m saying, mostly to distract myself, mostly to keep up the increasingly weak illusion that I’m still pretty confident that I’m going to come out of this okay, “not only are you already deep in this business, but you’re a forger as well. Is that what I’m to understand?”
“Sure,” says Johnny. “If you like.”
In the time it’s taken me to figure this out, because Johnny’s unconcern for the whole situation means he’s pretty open to answering questions, Johnny has managed to suspend me about two inches off the floor, hanging by my wrists from some kind of fucking pulley system he’s got rigged up. My feet can touch the floor, but only enough to sort of scramble around in a pathetic circle with an extremely insignificant maximum radius, which I haven’t done, mostly to avoid looking stupid, as if this is a real concern right now. I would have thought I could take him out before anything like this happened, but this fucker is fast. All it took was a knee to my sternum and I was pretty much locked in. Now he’s strolling around taking his time while the blood drains from my arms.
“So why’d you let us go in?” I ask, desperate to keep him talking.
Johnny shrugs. “I like to live dangerously,” he says. “And I was pretty curious who set this whole thing up. Archy was my second guess, you know. Should have been my first. He’s the only one who really fits the bill-there’s plenty of people who could get you in and out and might have a reason to, but only Archy is both smart enough and stupid enough to actually pull it off. Poor Uncle Archy.” He smiles. I find myself wishing he’d put his sunglasses back on.
And as if all this wasn’t bad enough, it turns out Johnny Quid sings.
“But if you think there’s something else / Well you’re right; there is / There’s something else.” This with a stupid kind of soft-shoe towards me, and the effect is nightmarish. “But if you think I’m gonna tell you / Think again; why should I even think of tellin’ you what there is? / Yeah, ‘cause silence is knowledge and knowledge is power.” He stops within reach of me and smiles up at me. He drops the tune and says apologetically, “Listen up, I just work here.”
“Reservoir Dogs called, they want their gimmick back,” is the first thing out of my smartass mouth, and I don’t have any time to think about how ungodly stupid a thing to say it is, because that’s when he stabs me.
-
Footnotes!
Doyle is a cheap reference to Arthur Conan Doyle, and NOT my submission for Arthur's actual last name, which is going to remain up in the air as Nolan wrote it.
True Story: Johnny is NOT making up this song; it's the last thirty seconds of the Andrew Bird song "Opposite Day," which I just HAPPENED to be listening to while writing this, and I stole it and voila, chapter finished. Thanks Andrew Bird. Andrew Bird is a happy string-using hipster and would probably be appalled at the application of his music, but oh well.
If you haven't seen Reservoir Dogs or don't at least know what that reference is about... get on that. Seriously.
Continues here.