The shade of the woman had a way of making herself heard even when Arthur shut her out, just as Mal had in reality back when she had been alive. He couldn't say no to her.
She appears behind him and waits for him to recognize her presence. Never anything but lovely in Arthur's subconscious, she is clothed in a modest understated dress that still manages to be seductive.]
[It takes a moment to Arthur to feel the eyes on the back of his neck; it is his own subconscious, after all, just another piece of himself. He'd been spending time with inane but legitimate things: constructing the business floor of Dreamscapes, tearing down and reconstructing again, cubicles and pictures and drawing desks in endless permutations.
Tedious work. Detail work. Arthur's work. But it's no wonder that she has managed to slip through the cracks when his motions are route and mindless.
Arthur glances over his shoulder, just enough of a look to confirm the smell of her perfume before he returns to the task at hand. Cubicles disappear again.]
[The woman moves at the sound of her name, stepping out from behind Arthur and coming to rest in front of him, making sure she has all his attention.] Hello, Arthur. [She smiles the smile she used to give him when she was alive, the one that said it was good to see him.]
[The real woman would have had Arthur's full attention on her own; the shade needs to work for it. His eyes move to her. The smile.] What are you doing here, Mal?
[Because saying he didn't want to see her would be a lie, Arthur clings to the logic that says he shouldn't.]
You tell me. [She is after all his projection; she wouldn't be here in his mind unless his subconscious wanted her to be in some way. But Mal knows, she knows it has something to do with the new woman in his life, the girl that was swiftly replacing her in every way.]
[Mal's expression mirrors Arthur's. She knows what he's talking about.] Don't blame him, Arthur, please. [She would never forgive herself if Dom and Arthur's relationship suffered because of what happened with her.]
[And because he knows that Mal, the real Mal, wouldn't want him to blame Cobb.] I know. I'm sorry he didn't tell you sooner. [She reaches for his hand.]
[He lets her take it, here where there's no one to see. Lets her take it but doesn't reciprocate; there is no twining of fingers or knowing squeezes.] So am I. But it's out now and we're moving on.
[Arthur finally slides his hand out of hers.] You did. [He walks away from her, out toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that line one side of the office. Always Bangkok, his horizon.]
Is that why you're here, then? [He asks only after a moment of silence, turning to look at her, sitting on edge of a desk that wasn't there a moment ago, simple and heavy, dark wood and brass fittings.]
The shade of the woman had a way of making herself heard even when Arthur shut her out, just as Mal had in reality back when she had been alive. He couldn't say no to her.
She appears behind him and waits for him to recognize her presence. Never anything but lovely in Arthur's subconscious, she is clothed in a modest understated dress that still manages to be seductive.]
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Tedious work. Detail work. Arthur's work. But it's no wonder that she has managed to slip through the cracks when his motions are route and mindless.
Arthur glances over his shoulder, just enough of a look to confirm the smell of her perfume before he returns to the task at hand. Cubicles disappear again.]
Mal.
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[Because saying he didn't want to see her would be a lie, Arthur clings to the logic that says he shouldn't.]
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well. Her.
Arthur shakes his head.] Cobb told me what happened.
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If Mal was anything at all, it wasn't shy.] You can't begrudge me that.
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