Prompt Post No. 6
* * * Round 6 is now closed to new prompts. * * *
Welcome to Round 6 of the Inception Kink Meme. This post will be closed to new prompts once it reaches three thousand comments. Also, please check our updated rules.
( Rules... )
Welcome to Round 6 of the Inception Kink Meme. This post will be closed to new prompts once it reaches three thousand comments. Also, please check our updated rules.
( Rules... )
"Isn't she beautiful?" asks Arthur.
"She was," says Eames.
"That's Mr. and Mrs. Miles," says Arthur, nodding in the direction of an old couple by the door. "Stephen and Marie. Mal's parents."
"Where are the children?" asks Eames.
"Sleeping in the back room," says Arthur. "They're tired."
"How are you holding up?" asks Eames.
"I'm," says Arthur, and pauses. "I don't think that's the right question, Eames. I'll go tell Dom that you're here."
Eames watches him slide into the crowd, inscrutable in black. He doesn't need to ask about Cobb because he knows how Cobb is holding up, which is to say, not at all. His wife just killed herself, for heaven's sake. But Arthur's eyes are clear as he steers Cobb out of the huddle of mourners, and anytime that Arthur looks that focused, that determined, it worries Eames; it means that somewhere beneath the calm, Arthur is thinking of doing something colossally stupid.
"Thank you for coming," says Cobb, stumbling into a handshake.
"I'm so sorry," says Eames. "Mal was one of a kind."
"Yes," says Cobb, like that's the only word he knows. He darts a quick glance off to the side, and lowers his voice. "Eames, I need to keep in touch with you. I might-- I might be venturing into your line of work. I'm not sure how-- stay available, anyway. I'll be seeing you."
"What, the illegal line of work?" asks Eames. "Why?"
Cobb makes as though to answer, even as his forehead furrows into knots, but Arthur is turning him around with a hand on his arm, sending him back in the direction of the arriving guests.
"What's that about?" asks Eames.
"Eames," says Arthur, "they think he killed her."
"What, Cobb?" asks Eames. "They think he-- they think he killed Mal? That's-- I mean, he didn't, right? He didn't kill her?"
"I don't think that's the right question either," says Arthur.
"Fuck," says Eames. "I can't believe this. I can't believe Mal is--"
"I know," says Arthur.
"Remember that time, when you introduced me to the two of them?" asks Eames. "In Paris, when they were researching shapeshifting, and you told them it would only be that once, that they shouldn't make a habit of consulting me, even though I was the best damn forger alive?"
"I still think they shouldn't have," says Arthur. "Typically, it's a good idea for innocent civilians to stay away from criminals."
"And then Mal just laughed, and she shook my hand," says Eames, "and then we all had a glass of wine in their living room before we got out the PASIV? And you were lying on the couch and you were worrying about something, I don't know what, maybe about how disreputable I was, something or another, and Mal listened to you worry and she ran a hand through your hair, and she said--"
"Fais dodo," says Arthur, "petit chou."
"And then a couple months later, she got pregnant again," says Eames, "and I really meant to drop by and say hello, give her a foot rub, whatever you do for pregnant women, maybe feel the baby kick if I was lucky, but I just kept putting it off, and that was it. Were you there? Did you feel the baby kick?"
"Yes," says Arthur, and looks toward her picture on the casket. "It's a pity there's only ashes in there. I would have liked to kiss her."
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