[ If Fred hadn't marched Harry right out of the room after aforementioned behavior, Harry would have seen Ariadne looking bright red and a bit confused. She really had been there to look at the joke shop products; she'd even tried a canary cream shortly before Fred burst into the room.
She doesn't get the voicemail for a little bit, having been careful to lock her device away so that it didn't accidentally broadcast the slumber party she and her colleagues are having with. Then there was the bread issue, which was interesting in itself. Eventually, however, she checks her messages and calls back.
[ This particular evening turns into an early night for one Mister Eames, having returned to work in the garage this morning and aid Yusuf with what he could in the basement thereafter. Progress on the PASIV is slow - the fire putting a pause on the development of the machine itself, and them in need of finding an assortment of chemicals for Yusuf to work with in the first place. The tracker on Eames' ankle isn't helping matters, considering he still has about two weeks to go before it's removed, but at least he's no longer confined to house arrest. Little blessings, which he finds ironic for a dream, but that's another can of issues that he's not certain he wants to address tonight, considering every other night
( ... )
LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT THIS GINGERoneminutemazeNovember 20 2011, 21:21:55 UTC
[ The weekend curse is winding down, aided by the fact that every writing utensil in the house and most electronics that can be written with have been hidden from Ariadne by two wizards. Mentally, she's exhausted; the curse took her natural creativity and ran with it, making her come up with idea after idea and even so far as to change the way she acted (she would never, for example, tell Harry that he and Ginny are her OTP, even if she does think they're cute). She's taken to telling Waffle her ideas since she can't write them, which has gotten the bird happily chirping things like "Lemon!"; she'll have to convince everyone that he just really, really likes fruit. For now, however, he's back in his cage, and Ariadne is restless. She may be mentally exhausted, but her brain isn't slowing down any.
The shower is off, and she considers going to take one for a moment before remembering that her morning shower had involved getting even more ideas (and that she'd had a morning shower in the first place). Arthur has his own bathroom, and
( ... )
[ Eames doesn't take easily to friendship but there's a difference between that and just talking, errant conversations and the like. But with Ariadne there is at least the basic undertone of understanding between them, similar background and understanding of the environment that he didn't have with Mister Orange and certainly doesn't with Stephen. Eames has a general dislike of people on the whole but he still is, ultimately, a social creature, needs to get his kicks in with witty two-toned conversations with or without symbolism, or at least have people to spend his time on in observations
( ... )
/THROWS OUT WINDOWoneminutemazeNovember 20 2011, 21:48:18 UTC
[ It's ultimately easier to call them friends in the City; calling them her colleagues would bring up too many questions, and besides, how many people live with their colleagues? That doesn't mean she's necessarily any closer with them than she is with the others she's met here, however, outside of a common background and that 'understanding' of the environment that she questions daily. She hasn't been working in dreams as long as the others, and her mind is more open -- when they say "this is so", Ariadne replies with either "but why?" or "but what if it isn't?", even if she doesn't always say it outloud
( ... )
[Looks like it's about time for lunch at Stark's place. Freddy has no problem walking out of the garage area looking like he just came out from under a hood, all greased up here and there with a smudge under his right eye. Some people dig that kind of thing, not that he's advertising. Ahem. Hey is that the French kid down the hall? What's she doing in this man's world??]
[ Dawn had said she could be "desky" one day and more hands-on the next when explaining the engineering department, and while maybe it would have been better to get acquainted with the office side of things first, Ariadne had been itching for a project that involved her hands as well as her mind. Off to play with power tools she'd gone, and now she's grinning to herself as she pulls herself away to get lunch, even though her still-bandaged hand is throbbing slightly. There's no notice of Orange yet. ]
[He's kept track of how far he's gone from that apartment he supposedly shares with that other guy but Freddy has no idea where he is. He has no idea he's nearing a row of houses he's passed before, a location he knows to the point of unnerving particular persons upon mentioning it. But right now it's all unfamiliar to him. Not that it matters, anywhere is better than back there (this is a lie).]
[ She keeps telling herself that she needs to stop grabbing a cigarette (or whatever cigarillos she's managed to get off No Name by batting her eyelashes) whenever something starts to stress her out, but it does a good job of calming her nerves. Once Eames shows up, she can give him back his lighter and that should solve some of the problem. For now, however, she's slipped outside with a cigarette in her hands. Arthur's been turned into a deer; she figures that's enough of an excuse. ]
[The smell of smoke usually wouldn't pique his interest but it's who's doing the smoking that catches his attention. One glance over and he's already assessing the situation, profiling the young girl and the plain old filter between her fingers. She has clean hands and neat fingertips, it's not an addiction. Yet. Freddy wouldn't give a rat's ass if her face didn't look so familiar to him, not because he knows her but because he knows someone like her and that's close to home.]
Is that your first for the day?
[Either he'll catch her by surprise or she'll be unfazed and tell an old man to fuck right off. It doesn't matter to him which, particularly, he just had to say something.]
[ The voice doesn't surprise her; she knows Orange knows where she lives, after all, even if she has no idea why he'd be wandering over this early in the day. But the man speaking -- he's Orange, sure, or he looks like he could have been Mr. Orange once. He's older, though, that much is easily distinguishable, and it has her raising an eyebrow even as she exhales smoke. ]
Yeah. Though after the first conversation we had about smoking, I never thought I'd hear you ask that.
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She doesn't get the voicemail for a little bit, having been careful to lock her device away so that it didn't accidentally broadcast the slumber party she and her colleagues are having with. Then there was the bread issue, which was interesting in itself. Eventually, however, she checks her messages and calls back.
Ring ring ring. ]
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[ It's not exactly phone etiquette, but she's fairly certain she doesn't have the wrong number. ]
It's Ariadne.
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The shower is off, and she considers going to take one for a moment before remembering that her morning shower had involved getting even more ideas (and that she'd had a morning shower in the first place). Arthur has his own bathroom, and ( ... )
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What're you doing out? With that? [A point to her injury.]
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I work here? And it's not that bad; it was just glass.
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Is that your first for the day?
[Either he'll catch her by surprise or she'll be unfazed and tell an old man to fuck right off. It doesn't matter to him which, particularly, he just had to say something.]
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Yeah. Though after the first conversation we had about smoking, I never thought I'd hear you ask that.
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...you're only discovering this now?
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What color is it?
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