(Untitled)

[lakoffselephant]

After the team had parted ways at LAX, Arthur had decided that it was time for a break. A break from working, from dreaming, and from running around the world picking up after his (so called) friend. He simply took another flight back home, to upstate New York near the place where he'd grown up in order to find some peace of mind. There was very

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[lakoffselephant]

He turned and leaned a hip against the counter, watching Eames with a placid expression on his face. As weird as it should have been to see Eames in his personal space - the place he'd retreated to in order to get away from dream sharing and everything he associated with Eames - it wasn't even mildly disconcerting to see him settle in at his kitchen table

[lakoffselephant]

"It's not about learning anything, Eames." Arthur's reply was laconic, definitely slow and measured and direct because it should be obvious why he spent his free time reading. Novels were things that presented other worlds and characters so different from his own person and life. He didn't read to seek out lessons, per se. "It's about having experiences I won't have anywhere else, possibly even in my dreams." And though he felt silly for admitting that aloud he made no indication of his feelings as he was quickly running out of wet, but clean, dishes to hand Eames to put in the drying rack

[forgerart]

“I like to think dreams are what books are made of.” Eames stated, though he gave no other indication of feeling one way or another about the topic. He hadn’t given himself enough time in his life to read enough books, aside from the classics, to really form an opinion. People, though, were a subject Eames could be opinionated about. Those were the real stories, each person more complex, intricate, than the next. Sure, books told the stories of some people, but who better to get the story from than the actual source

[lakoffselephant]

There was still a vague hint of color high on his cheeks as he turned to look at Eames, but it disappeared after a moment or two. Arthur had no reason to be flustered by the man's proximity, really, they've been playing at this for years now. He just didn't have the excuse of a job to distract him. "Oh, I would never truly be afraid of you, but you know how I like knowing what I'm getting myself into." Arthur was actually looking forward to seeing just how persuasive Eames could be and in what ways - he'd openly admired the forger's ingenuity before (though it seemed to come off as sarcastic and backfire in his face) and there was nothing Arthur found more indicting than intelligence and competence

[forgerart]

Eames noticed but said nothing about the darker shade on Arthur’s face, a hand reaching up to scratch a bit of stubble on his cheek while he nonchalantly listened to the other man. Eames knew he didn’t pose a threat, or seem scary to Arthur, but maybe, just maybe, he could be coercing with the power of intimidation. Self-admittedly, he was no genius, or book-smart, but he had other knowledge that favored him. “Slowly, slowly. Suddenly you’ve become the eager one and not me.” He chuckled. “Pleasure before business, hm

[lakoffselephant]

Eames was inspecting his pumpkin plants - it was still early for those, but some of the flowers were starting to give way to small green gourds - as Arthur hovered close by. His arms were crossed lightly over his chest and he quietly accepted the cigarette. Taking a long drag, he held the smoke in his mouth before letting it just sort of filter out before crouching low beside Eames and passing the cigarette back. "It's nice here, quiet." He commented idly before standing back up and wandering around to a plant that was actually bearing ready vegetation. "I grew up about two hours North of here, actually."

He didn't mind giving Eames the finer details of his life, they've known each other long enough without actually knowing each other. Finding a ripe tomato he must have missed earlier, he gently plucked it from the vine and rolled it between his palms. "Don't you ever get tired? I mean, of moving from place to place, living out of a valise and a suitcase." The question came seemingly out of nowhere, but the reappearance of Eames in

[forgerart]

Truthfully, Eames wasn't sure what he was looking at yet. He hadn't come upon many gardens to really know. It all looked like plants to him, but that didn't take away the curiosity he felt, or his interest from being piqued. Something was growing, though, and he reached out with a hand to trail along the green fruit bared by the plant. He glanced up at Arthur in time to see the other take a drag of the cigarette, eyebrow quirking as he listened to the miniscule backstory. "Why didn't you go home instead

[lakoffselephant]

"Oh, I did go home," he said as if he was surprised by the thought that he wouldn't have visited his hometown. "It was a short visit." After clarifying, Arthur moved back toward the pumpkin plants and Eames. He had spent a week under his mother's thumb and he'd felt all of fifteen again - it was simultaneously relaxing and irritating. While he loved his family he was never particularly fond of being doted on or being treated like a child. It was weird for him to be admitting this sort of thing, and to Eames, but Arthur felt compelled to talk, to be known, perhaps. He often felt a little too isolated by their profession because of the necessary secrecy concerning personal details

[forgerart]

“Ah.” Now it made a bit more sense to Eames, though now he was curious as to what Arthur’s family was like. It couldn’t possibly be a normal, average household when they produced a genius that went into the human subconscious. Still, he didn’t think it was his place to ask. After all, should the same question be directed at him, Eames would likely struggle for an answer. It had been years since his last visit; safety being the main reason, but Eames didn’t feel like he belonged anywhere, not for a long time

[lakoffselephant]

After spending so much time with Cobb, on and off of jobs, it was a bit jarring to be alone for the first time in months when he had retreated into his townhouse. Arthur enjoyed the solitude and the lack of desperate, half-insane co-workers slash friends who always needed to be taken care of. Never the less, it was difficult not to think about Dom and the Fischer job with his personal failure still weighing him down a bit. The way Dom had laid into him bothered him more than it probably should have

[forgerart]

The Fischer job had affected everyone differently once it was over, some more than others, but Eames didn’t stay in touch long enough to really find out what had happened to his work partners since then. Perhaps it was part of the reason why he’d disappeared for some time. Except unlike Cobb, Eames felt compelled to return, to look for Arthur, and from then on, figure something out. Together. He stopped himself before the thought even went there, but it was stupid because he’d already thought of it anyway

[lakoffselephant]

The simple architecture was still deceptively complex in places. There really was nothing better than simplicity and straightforward designs (with the occasionally well placed paradox) that Arthur enjoyed. But he does miss the limitlessness of dreaming, he can't even bother to deny it at this point, but he's still licking his proverbial wounds. If anyone could convince Arthur to change his mind (good luck, it's not going to be easy) it might just be Eames. Though he'd decidedly not thought about the man since the inception job, which turned out well considering it didn't work in the slightest but he could pretend

sorry for the delay! still around.

[forgerart]

Eames chuckled low in his throat for no definite reason. His mood having shot up considerably just from the change of atmosphere, plus being here with Arthur on top of that made for interesting possibilities. He allowed the other to order his drink, watching the bartender with a pensive expression while the drinks were being made. What could've happened if he'd met any of the people implicated in the Fischer job during something this mundane? Would Arthur have taken a different liking to him had they met by pure chance and luck

It's all right! :)

[lakoffselephant]

He watched Eames while he was at the bar and he couldnt help but think that he was missing something about this visit. It really was a lot of trouble for Eames to go through just to ask him to get back to work. Why did it matter that he was in quasi-retirement? It didn't seem like something that Eames would do, but then again he never was able to predict what the man would do. He cocked an eyebrow, curious, at the quip about hitting on him and he took his time stirring his drink and sipping it before replying with, "Oh, what makes this situation so inappropriate that you wouldn't think of hitting on me now?" Arthur never knew when to back away from the push and pull of their relationship (wait, what relationship?) and just let things be

[forgerart]

"It's working backwards." Eames grinned, holding his glass lightly with his thumb and middle finger, tilting it back and forth a few times before he added on to his answer. "I was over at your house before inviting you for a drink." he chuckled quietly, though the answer wasn't suggestive at all since it was literal and true, but it was amusing to see it in a mundane light nonetheless; at least that's what he could derive from modern relationships

[lakoffselephant]

The air between them was getting a little charged, but there was rarely a time, that Arthur could remember, where things were easy between them. They've known each other for years and worked with each other since day one and it's always been one thing or another that had him bristling, Eames bristling, or just a general unease because they didn't really know how to act or react to the other. Or that was the case for Arthur. He wasn't so well versed in reading people like Eames was, he couldn't always tell when someone was trying to flirt with him instead of being simply nice. "You didn't give me enough notice, I could have had something to drink ready for you." He started tapping his fingers against the table with no distinguishable rhythm to the movement - Arthur has always been a fidgety person