True. [There's a thin excuse for a laugh. White is frank and Arthur likes that, not in small part because he's pretty sure he wouldn't be able to parse through anything less. He wonders what kind of dreamer he is, or if projections could be so complex (Mal's ghost the only example and hers not so benign) whose subconscious he's peeled out of. Not Arthur's certainly, and Eames would remember. That leaves Yusuf to Arthur's knowledge, and anyone else whole. There's a second or two when he considers asking White what he thinks of this place as a place, what makes him think it's not some really extensive dream (why no one else figures it for that) but it's gone nearly as fast as it occurs to him, a near misstep; he'll blame being unwell, or something.
He ends up just eying White's shoes when they come back into his line of vision, finds himself asking something else instead.]
How long you been here?
[Small talk but not really small talk, he's not looking to keep White longer than necessary but he and Orange seem acclimated enough to
( ... )
[There's a slight expression of oh in recognition regarding Los Angeles. Right. He remembers that one - like the City had gone on some kind of epic genre kick and not the kind of kick he'd have been hoping for anyway. Zombies, he's remembering, and then the network transmission of the equivalent to a city being annihilated - just a dream he'd kept saying to himself.]
So would I. Then zombies.
[Have put money on it, he means and laughs.
The laugh is still light, thin in an effort not to rasp, but it's genuine, dry and wry as ever at the absurdity of the situation which he knew to be par for the course in the City but seeing it at hand was different, is a bit different each time in fact - traveling City and zombies or whatever else got thrown at them.]
[Just a dream...that's what they say in the movies when they want you to lie to yourself or someone is lying to you.]
Oh ho. So you saw it too?
[The mini Romero impersonation. Larry himself puts his arms out and quirks his head to one side. A smoldering cigarette disrupts what would be a zombified slack jaw. Oh well. Enough to get a point across.]
Dumb shit. Worth seeing for yourself though instead of always wondering if that was the chance to go...
What there was to see, sure. [ Arthur musters up something like a laugh for the impression - because the point does get across and White is perhaps easy to laugh around, or something. Logic is a bit fuzzy right now of course, like everything else. The next words are sobering in a way, or Arthur's mind is just trained to go sharp at things implying exits, or both.
Rubbing the back of his neck again, he tests his weight when he stands, resting a hand on whatever's close - back of a chair, table, whichever - and deeming it likely he won't keel over again, lets go, stands still, slips a hand into a pocket thoughtlessly. ]
Stupid not to at least check. [ He agrees - because pretty much everything is worth seeing for yourself, dream or not but especially a dream - the chance to go, the chance to wake up.
Too much happens in a dream, reality gets waylaid. The hand at his neck moves round front to smooth down over his mouth and jaw before dropping to his side. ]Not a lot of people seem to want to go back though - not as badly as I'd
( ... )
He ends up just eying White's shoes when they come back into his line of vision, finds himself asking something else instead.]
How long you been here?
[Small talk but not really small talk, he's not looking to keep White longer than necessary but he and Orange seem acclimated enough to ( ... )
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So would I. Then zombies.
[Have put money on it, he means and laughs.
The laugh is still light, thin in an effort not to rasp, but it's genuine, dry and wry as ever at the absurdity of the situation which he knew to be par for the course in the City but seeing it at hand was different, is a bit different each time in fact - traveling City and zombies or whatever else got thrown at them.]
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Oh ho. So you saw it too?
[The mini Romero impersonation. Larry himself puts his arms out and quirks his head to one side. A smoldering cigarette disrupts what would be a zombified slack jaw. Oh well. Enough to get a point across.]
Dumb shit. Worth seeing for yourself though instead of always wondering if that was the chance to go...
[Exhale in a sigh up into the air.]
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Rubbing the back of his neck again, he tests his weight when he stands, resting a hand on whatever's close - back of a chair, table, whichever - and deeming it likely he won't keel over again, lets go, stands still, slips a hand into a pocket thoughtlessly. ]
Stupid not to at least check. [ He agrees - because pretty much everything is worth seeing for yourself, dream or not but especially a dream - the chance to go, the chance to wake up.
Too much happens in a dream, reality gets waylaid. The hand at his neck moves round front to smooth down over his mouth and jaw before dropping to his side. ]Not a lot of people seem to want to go back though - not as badly as I'd ( ... )
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