Now I'm beginning to get the distinct feeling that you're stalking me.
[ The sentiment is a little too dry to sound truly amused.
Was it that the man's attention had been distracted by Elise, or had Arthur truly been able to sneak up on him? A glass of wine is sat down before the seat across the table is helped to without asking. Arthur looks looser, but perhaps it's the dim lighting. His tie of yesterday is gone-- though he is still in collar and cuffs-- but just void of that simple piece of clothing helps him bridge the gap between the young man in the cafe and the older French men who frequent this resturaunt. Arthur could be a vinter in training with his open collar and rolled sleeve.
In the dim lighting his shoes can't even be seen. ]
Am I? [ Bemusement is something that Eames is very good at conveying with his face, even though it's a state of being he likes to personally avoid. In his mind, it's little more than mismanaged curiosity, or rather curiosity with very little substance behind it; still, that doesn't mean he's unable to make his eyes large and bewildered when Arthur sits down at the table across from him. The corner of his mouth crooks politely, the way a man who's suddenly found himself plunged into a conversation he doesn't quite understand might. ] If I am, I'm not sure I'm doing a very good job of it. Given that you've found me this time, Thomas.
[ You can't convince a young man who's worked for the American government that anything is coincidence. Arthur snorts quietly into his wine. ] In that case I think I won the bet.
[ His given name doesn't sound as strange now, though that in itself is disconcerting coming from this stranger and his crooked smile. Arthur glances at his glass and sits it back down on the table. ] Is this a regular haunt of yours, then?
I haven't been in Paris near long enough to call this place 'a haunt' of mine. Though-- [ Eames lifts his shoulder lightly, fingertips rolling the stem of his wineglass, making it turn slowly against the scuffed wood of the table. ] --I'd be lying if I said I hadn't considered it.
[ He glances up at Arthur and smiles neatly, so as to belie any double entendre. ] It has its charms, doesn't it.
In the end, he'd helped to finish the remaining bottle of wine-- tempered by the dark, bitter coffee served at the sidewalk café where they'd ended up.
In the end, he'd had a good time.
Cuffs rolled to elbows, empty bottle and thick dregs both abandoned to the clean-up of another waitress with a pouting Parisian mouth turned in Arthur's direction (Arthur, not Arthur, not Thomas), they were walking despite Thomas' objections that he would rather not be escorted back. He was starting to understand, after a few hours, that the other Arthur generally got his way if only because he did what he wanted despite all protestations to the contrary. The man would have walked a half-step behind him the whole way back to the hotel and made it look like Arthur was the imposter.
Better to just take the conversation.
Arthur pulled a hand out of his pocket and gestured to the upcoming hotel.] This is me. [The Cobbs were with relatives, Mallorie's family. The hotel Arthur had chosen was like the bars and
( ... )
[ Eames gives the hotel the most perfunctory of glances, not wanting to be rude per say but also not wanting to relinquish the view of Arthur's profile in the low lamplight of the Parisian street. Besides, he's well aware of where Arthur is staying and although he's reluctant to drop allpretenses, Eames has found himself becoming more and more frank with Arthur over the passage of the evening. Dangerous territory, to be sure, given the true connection that lies between them, one that Eames knows will be revealed in less than two days' time. He's hopeful that perhaps Arthur will forgive him for the lies, though he suspects the opposite.
Eames is still young and not wholly cynical, so he thinks he's allowed a bit of hope, however unreasonable that hope may be.
And, in the end, if Arthur doesn't forgive him for the lie now stretched paper thin between the two of them, Eames knows that they had this. A brief but brilliant reality. Wasn't it Cobb who had said that dreams feel real when you're in them? (It's only when you wake up
( ... )
[Arthur's already slowing steps halt with the touch. (Warm. The fingertips were warm and he has to physically restrain himself from covering the spot with the other palm-- although isn't that stupid.) He glances back the way they'd come, unsure now how far they'd ended up walking. Arthur hasn't realized until tonight, until now, just how cut off he'd been since he'd packed his things and walked out of the door of his D.C. condo knowing that he wouldn't be back anytime soon. It was a conscious effort, yes, and something he'd wanted, certainly... and the Cobbs are a rare and amazing set of people but in the end they are and will always be The Cobbs.The Cobbs and Arthur. Not a great name for a band
( ... )
[ Eames is tempted to ask Arthur when was the last time he actually had a good time; he suspects the only way he'd be surprised is if Arthur's answer is anytime soon -- regardless of whether he was with the Cobbs or not. It takes a very specific type of person, a very finely-honed sense of conviction, to live a life so heavily fortified as Arthur's has proven to be. Without the wine, Eames isn't sure how far he would have managed to get in such a short period of time, carelessly going about pulling down Arthur's walls. By now, however, he's at least fairly certain that Arthur reciprocates some part of the attraction has for him. Whether or not Arthur is actually aware of this is a completely different story
( ... )
Comments 60
[ The sentiment is a little too dry to sound truly amused.
Was it that the man's attention had been distracted by Elise, or had Arthur truly been able to sneak up on him? A glass of wine is sat down before the seat across the table is helped to without asking. Arthur looks looser, but perhaps it's the dim lighting. His tie of yesterday is gone-- though he is still in collar and cuffs-- but just void of that simple piece of clothing helps him bridge the gap between the young man in the cafe and the older French men who frequent this resturaunt. Arthur could be a vinter in training with his open collar and rolled sleeve.
In the dim lighting his shoes can't even be seen. ]
Reply
Reply
[ His given name doesn't sound as strange now, though that in itself is disconcerting coming from this stranger and his crooked smile. Arthur glances at his glass and sits it back down on the table. ] Is this a regular haunt of yours, then?
Reply
[ He glances up at Arthur and smiles neatly, so as to belie any double entendre. ] It has its charms, doesn't it.
Reply
In the end, he'd helped to finish the remaining bottle of wine-- tempered by the dark, bitter coffee served at the sidewalk café where they'd ended up.
In the end, he'd had a good time.
Cuffs rolled to elbows, empty bottle and thick dregs both abandoned to the clean-up of another waitress with a pouting Parisian mouth turned in Arthur's direction (Arthur, not Arthur, not Thomas), they were walking despite Thomas' objections that he would rather not be escorted back. He was starting to understand, after a few hours, that the other Arthur generally got his way if only because he did what he wanted despite all protestations to the contrary. The man would have walked a half-step behind him the whole way back to the hotel and made it look like Arthur was the imposter.
Better to just take the conversation.
Arthur pulled a hand out of his pocket and gestured to the upcoming hotel.] This is me. [The Cobbs were with relatives, Mallorie's family. The hotel Arthur had chosen was like the bars and ( ... )
Reply
Eames is still young and not wholly cynical, so he thinks he's allowed a bit of hope, however unreasonable that hope may be.
And, in the end, if Arthur doesn't forgive him for the lie now stretched paper thin between the two of them, Eames knows that they had this. A brief but brilliant reality. Wasn't it Cobb who had said that dreams feel real when you're in them? (It's only when you wake up ( ... )
Reply
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment