Ariadne was not, on the whole, a timid person. She'd always had a tendency to jump head-first into things, so if there were any butterflies in her stomach, they were anticipatory, not nervous.
Not that there was a whole lot of difference.
And she knew Arthur. Okay, not long, and not very well, given that most of their conversations up to this point had always been about work - the job. But she knew enough to know that he liked her, he liked spending time with her as much as she liked spending time with him. And he was attracted to her, if their make-out session in her dream the day before had been any indication.
She wasn't any kind of seductress, but the skirt she wore showed off her legs, just a bit, and the lipstick was just red enough to draw attention to her mouth. Chalk it up to vanity.
When the buzzer rang, she had just taken a curling iron to her hair, why, she wasn't sure. It was already wavy, down around her shoulders.
Oddly enough, when she got downstairs and actually saw him, she relaxed, instantly at ease again.
( ... )
Being in people's subconscious was a great ice-breaker for most things in general. Not to mention that in ten hours time Arthur and Ariadne had been through what was probably somewhere close the equivalent of a full week's worth of the best team building activities. And that wasn't to mention all the time in dreams just planning the Fischer job.
It was exactly the reason why Arthur trusted Cobb without question, soundlessly and exactingly. Most of a decade in business together in the real world was a good amount of time on it's own--and then the dreaming compounded it.
Still--funny enough--no matter how many dreams he'd shared with Ariadne, it didn't prepare Arthur for seeing her legs. He might have looked a touch too long to be polite before his eyes rose, focused on the rosy lips, and then were dragged upward to dark eyes.
"Of course I did; this is my special occasion vest." A half a smile picked at his mouth before Arthur added, "you look wonderful."
"Thanks," she accepted the compliment graciously. "So where are we going? Somewhere suitably impressive, I hope, with an equally impressive wine list." She'd always figured Arthur for a wine lover, it was time to test that out.
She knew the essence of the man, she knew his character and his trustworthiness. Now it was time to learn about the little things: his history, the food he liked, his taste in music - anything else she could think of, and given adequate time, Ariadne could think of a lot that she wanted to know.
One eyebrow was lifted and Arthur acquiesced with a nod. "It does have an impressive wine list. Am I that transparent or is that a happy coincidence?" He took a hand out of his pocket to point them down the street and started them walking.
Unlike Ariadne, Arthur wasn't ready to throw her into the fire just yet. It was true they hadn't done much talking that wasn't about business but he wasn't exactly the firing squad kind of guy.
"You are exactly that transparent," she said with a little grin. "But aside from that, and the fact that you probably enjoy big band music, you don't give much away, so don't worry."
Christ. Either he was exactly that transparent or he hadn't given Ariadne anywhere near enough credit. She was an architect after all, used to putting small details together to make a whole, but...
Too late to change plans now. Arthur shook his head, a small show of consernation, and chuckled to himself. "So you don't like wine?"
"On the contrary," she said with a laugh at his obvious consternation. "You don't live in Paris for any length of time and not start to like wine, whether you want to or not."
She didn't bother to ask him where he was taking her. Ariadne was the kind of girl who loved the anticipation, loved to be surprised, loved not knowing what was going to happen next, at least in this context. She'd happily let Arthur drag her all over the city, because she was sure he'd manage to show her a good time.
"That is a good point." Arthur was forcibly reminded of Mal, the way she'd be an utter snob about wine and then just laugh at he and Cobb when they'd call her out, claiming that the French weren't snobs, they were connoissuers.
He put it out of mind.
"I don't know if I know how long you've been here," Arthur admitted as they walked. He dodged the crowd with an air of someone who wasn't even there, turning subtly to slide between people without even touching them. Unobtrusiveness was a habit of long years.
It always impressed her, how he did that. Of course, that kind of skill probably only came after years of being a criminal, not that that bothered Ariadne in the slightest. It wasn't like he was an assassin or anything like that.
"I've been here about eighteen months," she said, answering his question. "On scholarship. I did my undergrad at NYU." Not nearly as exciting as his life story, she was sure. But it was hers.
A sophmore, and Miles had picked her out of all his students to help Cobb. Not that Arthur didn't understand why but it amazed him a little, Ariadne's talent. He'd worked for the things he'd achieved; hers seemed to stem from natural grace and talent. An ability to think not outside the box, but never assuming a box in the first place.
"I studied Economics at Cornell," he said, almost a joke in itself. Eames loved it, Arthur to a tee. Prim and proper.
"Of course I did," he repeated, almost softly, almost a laugh. He narrowly avoided the stumble of a laughing frat boy--an easy step to the side--and fell back in step.
"I got bored of Economics and applied to the CIA." It was the truth, merely pared down. "I told you that the government used Dreams to train military? Well I got trained. And I guess you could say that I never let go of the idea." Arthur pointed to the cross street on their left.
She had to chuckle a little. "He is good at getting people to do what he wants. Being tempted into a glamorous life of crime, and all that. I don't know what you got paid at the CIA but I've got more money than I know what to do with now." Not that it had anything to do with the money, for her. And she strongly doubted that was a factor with Arthur.
"I didn't take either job for the money," Arthur said, confirming her silent thoughts on the matter. He would have done Extraction for free at this point; it wasn't something he could walk away from. "You should probably invest it. And yes, he is. We're here."
Arthur stopped them in front of a brick facade, the small neon sign above the inset wooden door reading 'Caveau de la Huchette.' He glanced over at her, wondering if she'd been there before.
Not that there was a whole lot of difference.
And she knew Arthur. Okay, not long, and not very well, given that most of their conversations up to this point had always been about work - the job. But she knew enough to know that he liked her, he liked spending time with her as much as she liked spending time with him. And he was attracted to her, if their make-out session in her dream the day before had been any indication.
She wasn't any kind of seductress, but the skirt she wore showed off her legs, just a bit, and the lipstick was just red enough to draw attention to her mouth. Chalk it up to vanity.
When the buzzer rang, she had just taken a curling iron to her hair, why, she wasn't sure. It was already wavy, down around her shoulders.
Oddly enough, when she got downstairs and actually saw him, she relaxed, instantly at ease again. ( ... )
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It was exactly the reason why Arthur trusted Cobb without question, soundlessly and exactingly. Most of a decade in business together in the real world was a good amount of time on it's own--and then the dreaming compounded it.
Still--funny enough--no matter how many dreams he'd shared with Ariadne, it didn't prepare Arthur for seeing her legs. He might have looked a touch too long to be polite before his eyes rose, focused on the rosy lips, and then were dragged upward to dark eyes.
"Of course I did; this is my special occasion vest." A half a smile picked at his mouth before Arthur added, "you look wonderful."
Reply
She knew the essence of the man, she knew his character and his trustworthiness. Now it was time to learn about the little things: his history, the food he liked, his taste in music - anything else she could think of, and given adequate time, Ariadne could think of a lot that she wanted to know.
Reply
Unlike Ariadne, Arthur wasn't ready to throw her into the fire just yet. It was true they hadn't done much talking that wasn't about business but he wasn't exactly the firing squad kind of guy.
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Reply
Too late to change plans now. Arthur shook his head, a small show of consernation, and chuckled to himself. "So you don't like wine?"
Reply
She didn't bother to ask him where he was taking her. Ariadne was the kind of girl who loved the anticipation, loved to be surprised, loved not knowing what was going to happen next, at least in this context. She'd happily let Arthur drag her all over the city, because she was sure he'd manage to show her a good time.
Reply
He put it out of mind.
"I don't know if I know how long you've been here," Arthur admitted as they walked. He dodged the crowd with an air of someone who wasn't even there, turning subtly to slide between people without even touching them. Unobtrusiveness was a habit of long years.
Reply
"I've been here about eighteen months," she said, answering his question. "On scholarship. I did my undergrad at NYU." Not nearly as exciting as his life story, she was sure. But it was hers.
Reply
"I studied Economics at Cornell," he said, almost a joke in itself. Eames loved it, Arthur to a tee. Prim and proper.
Reply
Reply
"I got bored of Economics and applied to the CIA." It was the truth, merely pared down. "I told you that the government used Dreams to train military? Well I got trained. And I guess you could say that I never let go of the idea." Arthur pointed to the cross street on their left.
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Arthur stopped them in front of a brick facade, the small neon sign above the inset wooden door reading 'Caveau de la Huchette.' He glanced over at her, wondering if she'd been there before.
Reply
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