[Fic] Legerdemain, part 3
Title: Legerdemain, part 3
Author: delires and weatherfront
Team: Romance
Prompt: Smirk
Word count: 1409
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
[ Part 1]
[ Part 2]
"So let me understand you," says Cobb. "You just stood there -- talking to him in the middle of the street -- and you let him take your watch, your jacket, and your tie?"
"I know!" exclaims Arthur. "Isn't it great?"
Cobb massages his palms into the sockets of his eyes.
"I guess he also took my cell phone," says Arthur. "And my wallet. Because they were inside my jacket. I'm telling you, this is amazing. I didn't suspect a thing! Stop looking at me like that, I held onto the PASIV, didn't I? What's the matter with you?"
"You know," says Cobb, "this is exactly like the time you wanted to hire that eight-year-old Las Ramblas pickpocket."
"Ah, yes, such a sweet girl," says Arthur. "Remember how we didn't even realize all your money was gone until we were back at the hotel? She cleaned you the hell out, that eight-year-old. If I ever have a daughter, Cobb, I want--"
"You can't keep indulging in this-- this admiration for con artists," says Cobb. "Magicians, mentalists, hypnotists, the lot of them. How many times do I have to tell you, we're not going to hire someone just because they've got a fast hand, or a good patter, or taken a beginner's course in pseudoscientific Derren-Brownian neuro-linguistic mumbo-jumbo?"
"Derren Brown is not pseudoscience!" protests Arthur. "Look, this guy, this Eames-- what he did wasn't easy. I am not an inobservant man, Cobb. I got you into this business and you know very well that it's no line of work for the gullible. He had talent. What, you think it was some cheap parlor trick for him to rob me blind like that?"
"Maybe not," says Cobb, wryly. "Maybe it was just a quick way for him to take half your clothes off of you."
Arthur opens his mouth, closes it, and colors faintly.
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," groans Cobb. "This isn't like Barcelona at all! You want us to find this guy because you want to sleep with him!"
"Don't be crass," says Arthur, sitting up a little straighter. "I think he would make an excellent addition to the team."
"And you also think he's a studly gentleman thief with an irresistible accent," says Cobb. "This is ridiculous. What else does he know? What else did he take?"
"Just my zodiac sign, my name, and what was in half my clothes," says Arthur. "The wallet's got some cash and plastic inside, and my current ID, but nothing irreplaceable. Nothing to tie us to work. If we freeze my phone and my bank accounts right now, that'll be plenty of damage control. But Cobb, you stubborn asshole, you really need to give this some serious thought--"
Cobb's phone starts ringing. He fishes it out of his pocket, stares at the screen, and places it on the table between them.
"It's from you," he says.
"Well, don't just sit there," says Arthur. "Pick up and put it on speaker."
"Hello," says Cobb. "Who's this?"
"Am I speaking to Cobb?" comes Eames's voice. "Cobb, isn't it? Pleasure to meet you, I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time. Now, please don't take this the wrong way, but I seem to have accidentally stolen most of your friend's belongings about a quarter-hour or so back. A friend by the name of Arthur, whose mobile -- you may have noticed -- I am borrowing at the moment. If it isn't too much trouble, I was just wondering if there might be some way for me to return these items to--"
"He's right here," says Cobb. "It's your mugger, Arthur."
"Hi," says Arthur, shyly, craning his head over the phone.
"Jesus Christ," says Cobb.
"Arthur," breathes Eames, like a man just pulled from drowning. "How-- how are you? This is--"
"Eames, right?" asks Arthur. "I remember. I'm doing well, thank you, what about-- what about you? Did you-- get in okay? Did you find Penn Station?"
"Okay, I hate to play Mr. Capulet here," interrupts Cobb, "but stop. You, Eames or whatever your name is, I don't understand what you mean by accidentally stolen. That makes no sense to me."
"Well, you see, my brother--" begins Eames, then trails off. "It's rather a long story. Do you have time to--"
"No," says Cobb. "I need you to give me an accurate inventory of everything you stole from Arthur. I'm going to assume that your contacting us isn't some sort of bizarre ploy to scam us out of anything else, and if you attempt it, we will report you to the police. However, if you deposit all missing items under our covert supervision at the drop point that we designate, we will refrain from pursuing the matter any further. Is that understood?"
"...Very well understood, Cobb," says Eames. "I hear you."
"We know you have this phone," says Cobb. "What else?"
"One Omega watch," says Eames, "which I did unclasp from a remarkably exquisite wrist--"
"You test my patience," says Cobb.
"A tie," says Eames, "and a jacket, which contained this mobile and a wallet. Oh, and a vial of clear liquid with an expiry date. What is that, by the way?"
Cobb slaps both his hands over the cell phone, his eyes wide. "He has the Somnacin," he hisses. "This guy has the Somnacin! Fuck, why didn't you mention-- why were you carrying it in your jacket? The PASIV case has--"
"It was a backup vial, so there wasn't any room in the case," mutters Arthur. "I forgot I put it there, calm down, he doesn't even know what it is--"
"Interpol does," says Cobb, "and if he takes this to the cops, we're fucked, Arthur. We're fucked. They can trace it all the way back to Accra, and if they get a warrant for the books there, what with the credit trail we had to leave to buy from them, we're going to be blown wide open!"
"--if it was some sort of medicine for you," Eames is saying. "You're all right, Arthur? I didn't take your insulin or anything?"
"I'm fine, don't worry," Arthur says hurriedly into the phone, and slaps Cobb's hands down on it again. "Listen. I've got it. There's one way we can keep this from getting out, but you're going to have to be open-minded about this."
"Arthur," says Cobb, "are you--"
"We hire him," says Arthur, intent as he stares into Cobb's face. "We keep him on the inside. No, shut up, it's the only way, Cobb. He's a sexy motherfucker but we don't know what he can do. As long as he has the Somnacin, he's got incredible leverage on us. We need to get him into a job, turn him an accomplice, tie him to dreamshare. He's bound to get curious about the vial sooner or later, the best we can do is to keep the whole thing under our control."
"That's good advice," says Eames. "I'm a sexy motherfucker but you don't know what I can do."
"What?" yells Cobb. "How did he--"
Cobb looks down at the phone, where his hands are clamped down, sure enough-- only with Arthur's fingers wedging his own slightly open, leaving the microphone uncovered. Arthur gives him an apologetic smile.
"This is great, just great," groans Cobb. "You're a regular Bonnie and Clyde already."
"Eames, I used the eye contact trick," Arthur says into the phone, excitedly. "So that's a go? You're threatening us now?"
"Sure as eggs is eggs, love," says Eames. "Let's hear that job offer from Cobb. Come on."
"You are both assholes and I hate myself," says Cobb. "I want an interview first. We're at--"
"Still on 34th street, probably," says Eames. "Actually, probably on 33rd, because you must be meeting at a coffeeshop and you're probably not using the Starbucks actually inside the Empire State Building, are you? That would be strange. You're at the one on 33rd and 5th, right? I can be there in a few. Arthur said he was on his way to meet you. Just out of curiosity, how do you two know each other? Are you from Maryland as well? You feel like a Taurus. Are you a Taurus?"
"Can't wait to see you," Arthur gets into the phone, before Cobb snaps it closed.
Note: This is Derren Brown; or Dez, of course, affectionately.
Author: delires and weatherfront
Team: Romance
Prompt: Smirk
Word count: 1409
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
[ Part 1]
[ Part 2]
"So let me understand you," says Cobb. "You just stood there -- talking to him in the middle of the street -- and you let him take your watch, your jacket, and your tie?"
"I know!" exclaims Arthur. "Isn't it great?"
Cobb massages his palms into the sockets of his eyes.
"I guess he also took my cell phone," says Arthur. "And my wallet. Because they were inside my jacket. I'm telling you, this is amazing. I didn't suspect a thing! Stop looking at me like that, I held onto the PASIV, didn't I? What's the matter with you?"
"You know," says Cobb, "this is exactly like the time you wanted to hire that eight-year-old Las Ramblas pickpocket."
"Ah, yes, such a sweet girl," says Arthur. "Remember how we didn't even realize all your money was gone until we were back at the hotel? She cleaned you the hell out, that eight-year-old. If I ever have a daughter, Cobb, I want--"
"You can't keep indulging in this-- this admiration for con artists," says Cobb. "Magicians, mentalists, hypnotists, the lot of them. How many times do I have to tell you, we're not going to hire someone just because they've got a fast hand, or a good patter, or taken a beginner's course in pseudoscientific Derren-Brownian neuro-linguistic mumbo-jumbo?"
"Derren Brown is not pseudoscience!" protests Arthur. "Look, this guy, this Eames-- what he did wasn't easy. I am not an inobservant man, Cobb. I got you into this business and you know very well that it's no line of work for the gullible. He had talent. What, you think it was some cheap parlor trick for him to rob me blind like that?"
"Maybe not," says Cobb, wryly. "Maybe it was just a quick way for him to take half your clothes off of you."
Arthur opens his mouth, closes it, and colors faintly.
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," groans Cobb. "This isn't like Barcelona at all! You want us to find this guy because you want to sleep with him!"
"Don't be crass," says Arthur, sitting up a little straighter. "I think he would make an excellent addition to the team."
"And you also think he's a studly gentleman thief with an irresistible accent," says Cobb. "This is ridiculous. What else does he know? What else did he take?"
"Just my zodiac sign, my name, and what was in half my clothes," says Arthur. "The wallet's got some cash and plastic inside, and my current ID, but nothing irreplaceable. Nothing to tie us to work. If we freeze my phone and my bank accounts right now, that'll be plenty of damage control. But Cobb, you stubborn asshole, you really need to give this some serious thought--"
Cobb's phone starts ringing. He fishes it out of his pocket, stares at the screen, and places it on the table between them.
"It's from you," he says.
"Well, don't just sit there," says Arthur. "Pick up and put it on speaker."
"Hello," says Cobb. "Who's this?"
"Am I speaking to Cobb?" comes Eames's voice. "Cobb, isn't it? Pleasure to meet you, I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time. Now, please don't take this the wrong way, but I seem to have accidentally stolen most of your friend's belongings about a quarter-hour or so back. A friend by the name of Arthur, whose mobile -- you may have noticed -- I am borrowing at the moment. If it isn't too much trouble, I was just wondering if there might be some way for me to return these items to--"
"He's right here," says Cobb. "It's your mugger, Arthur."
"Hi," says Arthur, shyly, craning his head over the phone.
"Jesus Christ," says Cobb.
"Arthur," breathes Eames, like a man just pulled from drowning. "How-- how are you? This is--"
"Eames, right?" asks Arthur. "I remember. I'm doing well, thank you, what about-- what about you? Did you-- get in okay? Did you find Penn Station?"
"Okay, I hate to play Mr. Capulet here," interrupts Cobb, "but stop. You, Eames or whatever your name is, I don't understand what you mean by accidentally stolen. That makes no sense to me."
"Well, you see, my brother--" begins Eames, then trails off. "It's rather a long story. Do you have time to--"
"No," says Cobb. "I need you to give me an accurate inventory of everything you stole from Arthur. I'm going to assume that your contacting us isn't some sort of bizarre ploy to scam us out of anything else, and if you attempt it, we will report you to the police. However, if you deposit all missing items under our covert supervision at the drop point that we designate, we will refrain from pursuing the matter any further. Is that understood?"
"...Very well understood, Cobb," says Eames. "I hear you."
"We know you have this phone," says Cobb. "What else?"
"One Omega watch," says Eames, "which I did unclasp from a remarkably exquisite wrist--"
"You test my patience," says Cobb.
"A tie," says Eames, "and a jacket, which contained this mobile and a wallet. Oh, and a vial of clear liquid with an expiry date. What is that, by the way?"
Cobb slaps both his hands over the cell phone, his eyes wide. "He has the Somnacin," he hisses. "This guy has the Somnacin! Fuck, why didn't you mention-- why were you carrying it in your jacket? The PASIV case has--"
"It was a backup vial, so there wasn't any room in the case," mutters Arthur. "I forgot I put it there, calm down, he doesn't even know what it is--"
"Interpol does," says Cobb, "and if he takes this to the cops, we're fucked, Arthur. We're fucked. They can trace it all the way back to Accra, and if they get a warrant for the books there, what with the credit trail we had to leave to buy from them, we're going to be blown wide open!"
"--if it was some sort of medicine for you," Eames is saying. "You're all right, Arthur? I didn't take your insulin or anything?"
"I'm fine, don't worry," Arthur says hurriedly into the phone, and slaps Cobb's hands down on it again. "Listen. I've got it. There's one way we can keep this from getting out, but you're going to have to be open-minded about this."
"Arthur," says Cobb, "are you--"
"We hire him," says Arthur, intent as he stares into Cobb's face. "We keep him on the inside. No, shut up, it's the only way, Cobb. He's a sexy motherfucker but we don't know what he can do. As long as he has the Somnacin, he's got incredible leverage on us. We need to get him into a job, turn him an accomplice, tie him to dreamshare. He's bound to get curious about the vial sooner or later, the best we can do is to keep the whole thing under our control."
"That's good advice," says Eames. "I'm a sexy motherfucker but you don't know what I can do."
"What?" yells Cobb. "How did he--"
Cobb looks down at the phone, where his hands are clamped down, sure enough-- only with Arthur's fingers wedging his own slightly open, leaving the microphone uncovered. Arthur gives him an apologetic smile.
"This is great, just great," groans Cobb. "You're a regular Bonnie and Clyde already."
"Eames, I used the eye contact trick," Arthur says into the phone, excitedly. "So that's a go? You're threatening us now?"
"Sure as eggs is eggs, love," says Eames. "Let's hear that job offer from Cobb. Come on."
"You are both assholes and I hate myself," says Cobb. "I want an interview first. We're at--"
"Still on 34th street, probably," says Eames. "Actually, probably on 33rd, because you must be meeting at a coffeeshop and you're probably not using the Starbucks actually inside the Empire State Building, are you? That would be strange. You're at the one on 33rd and 5th, right? I can be there in a few. Arthur said he was on his way to meet you. Just out of curiosity, how do you two know each other? Are you from Maryland as well? You feel like a Taurus. Are you a Taurus?"
"Can't wait to see you," Arthur gets into the phone, before Cobb snaps it closed.
Note: This is Derren Brown; or Dez, of course, affectionately.