Prompt Post No. 12
Welcome to Round 12 of the Inception Kink Meme.
Prompting System
- Prompt post will temporarily close to new prompts at 2000 comments.
- Forty-eight hours later, post will reopen to new prompts and temporarily close again when 4000 comments are reached.
- Forty-eight hours later, post will reopen to new prompts and permanently close to all new prompts ( Read more... )
Arthur opened his mouth to respond, then glanced over. Yusuf turned quickly away, pretending innocence, and Arthur stood, taking his bottle with him. He walked over to a table by the wall, kicked two of the four chairs away, and sat. The man followed him, leaving Yusuf’s concoction behind. Arthur wondered if the man had only come to talk to him. Had the man been following him? He sipped his drink, cursing silently the fact that it was running low.
“I work for a man,” the man began, “who needs a job done. A delicate, deathly sort of job. And-“
The man paused and glanced towards the bar. He turned back around and reached out, cupping his hands around the violent black drink that Yusuf had made, and that Arthur had believed left at the bar. He frowned at it. The man had left it there. And Arthur had not seen it appear here. Sorcery. He could feel the tension of the magic use working its way up his fingers, and he lifted them from the tabletop.
“Despite my own, admittedly formidable, talents,” the man continued, reaching out to pick up the end of the straw sticking out of the drink. He began to stir it, and as he moved the straw, light seemed to trail behind it. A golden luminescence poured from the straw like mist, mixing in with the drink. After several turns, the liquor began to lighten, and after only a moment the entire concoction had turned a clear, light gold. The man smiled at it. “Much better.” He lifted it to his lips and sipped. Arthur sat back, struggling to remain impassive against the impressively subtle display.
“And despite my skills, I have no power over the dead.” The man shrugged, as if the lack meant nothing to him, though Arthur observed a tightening of his mouth. This man did not like to be beaten.
“What sort of job, exactly?” Arthur asked carefully. This was too many Sorcerers in one day, too much upheaval and magic. He wanted to know that this one wanted.
“I’m not at liberty to say.” And the man smiled at him.
Arthur placed his bottle firmly down on the table, to the side. He didn’t want to hit a potential employer. Though that potential was rapidly decreasing.
“And what is your employer’s name?”
The man didn’t hesitate, not for an instant, just said calmly, “Fischer,” without blinking, and so Arthur knew that he was lying. He didn’t recognize the name, and he was familiar with most of the names of the underworld bosses and leaders, necessary and useful knowledge when one dealt daily with the dead. And this Fischer, he was no one. Or pretending to be no one.
9
“No deal,” Arthur said, standing and pushing away from the table. Damn. The first job in months that might actually pay, and he couldn’t trust it. He’d stick with the problem of Mal Cobb, for now, and leave everyone else their own problems.
“Alright,” said the man. He leaned back and held his golden drink close to his chest, sipping idly at it. Arthur paused and narrowed is eyes at him. The man had come here looking for him, and now gave up so easily? It didn’t feel right. But Arthur didn’t care enough, so he turned away. The man reached out and snagged the sleeve of his jacket, stopping him.
“My name is Eames, Arthur. Don’t forget it. I’ll be back.”
He smile was feral as Arthur wrenched away.
--
Reply
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment