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.
( ... )
She was going to tell him that she was planning on investing it, as soon as she paid off her student loans. But then she stopped short because the music spilling out of the restaurant was, well. Swing.
She laughed. Her earlier comment about big bands had been a shot in the dark, but this was perfect.
"Looks great," she said, genuinely pleased. She'd told him to impress her, and he had. The place looked classy, but fun.
Arthur just inclined his head and held out a hand for her to lead the way. He could make a pretty good guess as to why she was laughing.
Inside the door, Arthur handed over money for the cover. He wasn't severely old-fashioned... but there were definitely notions about polite society that had been instilled in him from an early age. His choice, his pay--even if she did have all that money to burn.
The first level was narrow and deep, cool stone walls and long wood bar offset by tables surrounded by deep red velvet chairs and benches. At the far end of the room was a staircase and was where the music was coming from. It was both classy and fun--in a way that only the French seemed capable. "Do you want to eat first?"
The place had a great ambience, she had to admit. Arthur had amazing taste.
"Yeah," she said, "Let's eat..." They got a table, and she tried not to have her first minor freak-out of the evening, because 'eating first' implied doing something second, and judging from the sounds coming from upstairs, that second thing was dancing.
Yes, after everything they'd been through together, Ariadne was nervous at the prospect of dancing with him. She'd never been dancing, unless you counted a couple of times out clubbing in New York, which she didn't because it was entirely different.
Ariadne would have gotten a Look if she'd put dancing and clubbing into the same sentence in Arthur's presence. He didn't really think that rubbing yourself against another person counted as dancing; if you wanted to have sex, get a room.
He passed her one of the menus. "Have you learned to like French food in the time you've been here?"
Which was exactly why she'd never done it more than a couple of times. She wasn't a 'public displays of affection' kind of person, and especially not when it involved lots of sweaty strangers.
She started glancing through the menu with a practiced eye. "I'll try just about anything once. Snails and frog legs were a given. You know, though, I was skeptical about bouillabaisse, but a bunch of us were in Marseille last spring and we figured what the hell. It was good. ...Think I might just stick with a sandwich tonight, though," she finished with a smile.
He would have agreed; undoubtedly, she'd figured that out.
Arthur returned her smiled, albeit more quietly. "I actually like frog's legs, though I've never leaned to like snails." He made a small face at the thought. "Something about the consistency. And the thought."
When the waiter came around he let Ariadne order first, and then ordered a beef au jus sandwich for himself. The food here was good, simple.
Ariadne's French accent (or lack of) was endearing. Arthur might not have been taken for a native but his own French was pretty good. He added a bottle of wine to the end of the order "A good reason not to eat them," he offered about the snails with a crook of a smile.
When Ariadne brought up her lack of dancing skills, Arthur shrugged one shoulder. "You didn't know how to build paradoxes either. Look at you now."
"That's different," she said immediately. "I've been staring longingly at photos of Frank Lloyd Wright homes and Escher prints since I was eight. I already knew how to do it, I just... needed someone to point me in the right direction." That's really what it felt like, like it had always been there, she just hadn't realized it until Cobb came along to show her.
"It's not that hard, trust me." Arthur shook his head, if only to illustrate his point, as he sat back a little. "It's just like architecture--a bunch of small things, that, put together form a cohesive whole."
That... might have been pushing it a little, but Arthur bit back his smile for the stretch. He'd brought a girl who didn't know how to dance to a dance tavern. Strike one, Arthur.
It wasn't his fault there was a gap in Ariadne's education. "I'm perfectly willing to let you teach me, I just hope I don't embarrass you, or break your toes or something."
"I don't embarrass easily," Arthur said lightly. "Though... try not to break my toes."
He looked up as the waiter came back with the wine. Arthur didn't make a deal about tasting it, just took a sip and nodded; the glasses were poured and the bottle left. "So if you don't dance, tell me something you do do."
She smiled, because she knew she was about to expose her geek to this guy she really kind of liked, but she wasn't all that worried about it, anyway. "Mostly, when I'm not at school, I backpack a lot. Visit old buildings and take pictures. I wanted the full immersion experience."
Exposing your geek had less potential for embarrasment when the guy you kind of liked happened to be a bit of a geek himself. Arthur smiled at Ariadne; it was easier to smile here, away from the job. "I've never backpacked myself but I think it's something that everyone's wanted to do. And I think you're right; the best way to do something is to do it first hand. For some things you just have to be there, to touch it."
"Exactly. Some things, nothing can do them justice. Like Rome, I went there first chance I got." She was interrupted, briefly, by the arrival of their food, but once their server had disappeared, she continued like nothing had happened, like she was distracted by her own memories.
"What struck me the most, wasn't the big touristy places, the ones that the government restores. It was the private homes. I could walk down a street in any neighborhood and see buildings that have been around for centuries, and they look perfect. Just because the people who live in them care about them."
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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She laughed. Her earlier comment about big bands had been a shot in the dark, but this was perfect.
"Looks great," she said, genuinely pleased. She'd told him to impress her, and he had. The place looked classy, but fun.
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Inside the door, Arthur handed over money for the cover. He wasn't severely old-fashioned... but there were definitely notions about polite society that had been instilled in him from an early age. His choice, his pay--even if she did have all that money to burn.
The first level was narrow and deep, cool stone walls and long wood bar offset by tables surrounded by deep red velvet chairs and benches. At the far end of the room was a staircase and was where the music was coming from. It was both classy and fun--in a way that only the French seemed capable. "Do you want to eat first?"
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"Yeah," she said, "Let's eat..." They got a table, and she tried not to have her first minor freak-out of the evening, because 'eating first' implied doing something second, and judging from the sounds coming from upstairs, that second thing was dancing.
Yes, after everything they'd been through together, Ariadne was nervous at the prospect of dancing with him. She'd never been dancing, unless you counted a couple of times out clubbing in New York, which she didn't because it was entirely different.
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He passed her one of the menus. "Have you learned to like French food in the time you've been here?"
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She started glancing through the menu with a practiced eye. "I'll try just about anything once. Snails and frog legs were a given. You know, though, I was skeptical about bouillabaisse, but a bunch of us were in Marseille last spring and we figured what the hell. It was good. ...Think I might just stick with a sandwich tonight, though," she finished with a smile.
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Arthur returned her smiled, albeit more quietly. "I actually like frog's legs, though I've never leaned to like snails." He made a small face at the thought. "Something about the consistency. And the thought."
When the waiter came around he let Ariadne order first, and then ordered a beef au jus sandwich for himself. The food here was good, simple.
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"Anyway, I might as well come clean right now: I don't have the faintest idea how to dance to this kind of music. ...Or any music, really."
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When Ariadne brought up her lack of dancing skills, Arthur shrugged one shoulder. "You didn't know how to build paradoxes either. Look at you now."
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Dancing, on the other hand...
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That... might have been pushing it a little, but Arthur bit back his smile for the stretch. He'd brought a girl who didn't know how to dance to a dance tavern. Strike one, Arthur.
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He looked up as the waiter came back with the wine. Arthur didn't make a deal about tasting it, just took a sip and nodded; the glasses were poured and the bottle left. "So if you don't dance, tell me something you do do."
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"What struck me the most, wasn't the big touristy places, the ones that the government restores. It was the private homes. I could walk down a street in any neighborhood and see buildings that have been around for centuries, and they look perfect. Just because the people who live in them care about them."
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