[ She's a study in subtle mannerisms. Her smile is warm, just warm enough. There's an intelligence there too, behind the perfectly lined eyes and professional application of blush.
Her dress is short but not slutty, long legs well shaped; the outline of her calves is obvious from the way her heels shift the muscle. Arthur lets his gaze wander, picking out details here and there. The lower neckline of her dress shows a small splay of freckles along the tops of her breasts. Where the fabric starts, there's a slightly paler line, like she's been in the sun.
If this is Eames, which he's getting the suspicion it is, the work is remarkable. ]
Sex on the beach, [Eames manages to say without grinning like a two year-old, and the bartender nods and pauses for Arthur's drink order. The woman's carefully crafted, to be attractive and someone to be attracted to, a pleasant surprise for a mark to come across perhaps. Eames knows Arthur has him already (which is impressive on its own) but he's still proud of the forge.]
[ The bartender is waiting, so he flicks his gaze over, deciding. ]
Gin and tonic.
[ She goes off to make their orders, motions crisp and efficient. Just like any of his projections.
And that's what does it, what makes the pieces fall into place. While the woman in the seat next to him has a carefully cultivated class, something about her motions aren't as familiar. There's a languid sense of grace that only his projection of Mal sometimes carries with her.
Their drinks arrive promptly, settled on cardboard coasters and with delicate garnish. ]
I have to admit, I'm impressed. [ He murmurs it over the rim of his drink, taking a careful sip. ]
[The woman smiles, glancing over at him, and then, like a snake shedding its skin, with a shudder, like a wink, Eames returns to his natural form, clothes somehow crisper and more attractive within the dream.
Eames grins, his legs crossed neatly.] Knew you had me. I'm impressed as well. Takes men twice your senior twice as long to sniff me out most of the time.
[He plays with the straw in his drink, smiling genuinely, happy to have found a clever coworker.] What tipped you off?
[ It's amazing to watch as the woman shimmers around the edges, just barely, and suddenly it's Eames in her place. There's nearly no disturbance; all of his projections just happily go on their way. Even the bartender, who can't be more than five feet away.
Arthur's eyebrows go up a little. ]
I know my projections. [ Which is really I know myself. ] You were close, but coy isn't really a trait that transfers to any of them. Good details, though. The freckles were a nice touch.
[Eames smirks.] Thanks. Fucked a gorgeous woman with freckles on her chest once. Always wanted to forge some.
[It's bait, him watching him to see how he'll react to the conversation having turned to this. Making it personal. And sexual. He watches him carefully with an even face, taking a sip of his drink.]
[ He knows it's bait. Even without the smirk and the even expression afterwards. Arthur knows exactly how he comes across, which is stiff. Somehow that goads people into trying to get under his skin in every way imaginable.
So he doesn't rise to it, just sort of shrugs it all off before he glances at his watch. It's been close to twenty minutes, ten minutes off from their timer up top. ]
Sure, the forger is talented. Insanely, crazily talented. But he's also a bit of an asshole and Arthur takes particular pleasure in knocking people like him down a peg. Professionally neutral, he dreams up a gun, unwilling to wait out the extra seven minutes they have left. ]
Then I'll see you topside.
[ The gun goes off and then he's in the Cobb's living room, staring up at the ceiling. He slides the IV out and dismantles his section of tubing, intent on cleaning everything out before the next run. ]
[Eames huffs when he's gone. Well that backfired spectacularly. He dreams up a gun himself, and he blinks awake in an armchair. He hesitates, then takes the IV from his wrist.]
I shouldn't have said that. Down there.
[He can admit that much. 'Sorry,' is a million times harder, though.]
[ Which is true. He isn't exactly excusing the behavior, but it's obvious he's letting it slide for now. They don't know each other well and that's half the battle of knowing what to say and when to say it. Arthur unplugs the IV tubing that Eames had used, takes both coils to the nearby kitchen to carefully rinse them out.
When he turns the tap back off and leaves the tubing to dry, he comes back into the living room, toweling his hands off. ]
For a moment, he's silent, taking in the fact that he was just called darling. It probably shows on his face, the raised eyebrows, a bit askance. Is it an English thing? Or is this just an Eames thing? ]
Not if you can stay on task.
[ Since that's what really matters. Being able to get results. Never mind how this could be irritating as all hell. Arthur can push through it. ]
[Something flits over his face then, though, something more sincere and less... all of that before stuff. He's impressed Arthur's putting aside their differences.]
You're smart and capable. I appreciate that.
[Is what he ends up saying quietly. He rifles through his pockets.] You smoke?
[ Though he does believe him. Even if it's just a grain of belief, since forging is an art of multitasking. Keeping hold of the person's image, the way they move, how they speak. Arthur already knows he'd have difficulty even trying to do it. But then, he turns his powers of observation to a different end. For him, it's all in the details, in knowing the ins and outs of people and understanding the why.
Eames surprises him again, this time due to the easily given compliment. There might be a small blush filling out across his face. ]
Never picked it up. [ Having to keep up a continual peak form while in the military has stayed with him in small parts. Not to mention that he was really broke until about six months ago. ]
They'll be back pretty soon. If you want to avoid Dom judging your habits, may as well get that smoke in. Back porch is through there.
[ Arthur gestures towards the nice set of french doors leading out. ]
[He's picked it up lately, which is dreadful, but Eames has always been bad at avoiding things that are dreadful for him. There's nothing quite like having a smoke.
There's nothing quite like a handsome man pinking in the face at a compliment either. Eames perches the cigarette between his lips, digging for a lighter, and nods, saluting him.]
Be back.
[And then he's sauntering back there, enjoying the fuck out of that cigarette after all that goddamned tension.
He saunters back in at the last minute, smelling a bit smokey but looking more at ease. Which is an achievement, he supposes.]
That's them, I s'pose, [he murmurs as he hears car doors.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Her dress is short but not slutty, long legs well shaped; the outline of her calves is obvious from the way her heels shift the muscle. Arthur lets his gaze wander, picking out details here and there. The lower neckline of her dress shows a small splay of freckles along the tops of her breasts. Where the fabric starts, there's a slightly paler line, like she's been in the sun.
If this is Eames, which he's getting the suspicion it is, the work is remarkable. ]
What are you having?
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no subject
Gin and tonic.
[ She goes off to make their orders, motions crisp and efficient. Just like any of his projections.
And that's what does it, what makes the pieces fall into place. While the woman in the seat next to him has a carefully cultivated class, something about her motions aren't as familiar. There's a languid sense of grace that only his projection of Mal sometimes carries with her.
Their drinks arrive promptly, settled on cardboard coasters and with delicate garnish. ]
I have to admit, I'm impressed. [ He murmurs it over the rim of his drink, taking a careful sip. ]
no subject
Eames grins, his legs crossed neatly.] Knew you had me. I'm impressed as well. Takes men twice your senior twice as long to sniff me out most of the time.
[He plays with the straw in his drink, smiling genuinely, happy to have found a clever coworker.] What tipped you off?
no subject
Arthur's eyebrows go up a little. ]
I know my projections. [ Which is really I know myself. ] You were close, but coy isn't really a trait that transfers to any of them. Good details, though. The freckles were a nice touch.
no subject
[It's bait, him watching him to see how he'll react to the conversation having turned to this. Making it personal. And sexual. He watches him carefully with an even face, taking a sip of his drink.]
no subject
[ He knows it's bait. Even without the smirk and the even expression afterwards. Arthur knows exactly how he comes across, which is stiff. Somehow that goads people into trying to get under his skin in every way imaginable.
So he doesn't rise to it, just sort of shrugs it all off before he glances at his watch. It's been close to twenty minutes, ten minutes off from their timer up top. ]
You can keep it together under duress?
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Yeah, of course I can.
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Sure, the forger is talented. Insanely, crazily talented. But he's also a bit of an asshole and Arthur takes particular pleasure in knocking people like him down a peg. Professionally neutral, he dreams up a gun, unwilling to wait out the extra seven minutes they have left. ]
Then I'll see you topside.
[ The gun goes off and then he's in the Cobb's living room, staring up at the ceiling. He slides the IV out and dismantles his section of tubing, intent on cleaning everything out before the next run. ]
no subject
I shouldn't have said that. Down there.
[He can admit that much. 'Sorry,' is a million times harder, though.]
no subject
[ Which is true. He isn't exactly excusing the behavior, but it's obvious he's letting it slide for now. They don't know each other well and that's half the battle of knowing what to say and when to say it. Arthur unplugs the IV tubing that Eames had used, takes both coils to the nearby kitchen to carefully rinse them out.
When he turns the tap back off and leaves the tubing to dry, he comes back into the living room, toweling his hands off. ]
Is that going to be a problem?
[ The flirtations, the teasing. ]
no subject
[There's actually a lot more bitter disappointment that he's going to have to than he expected. It doesn't help that Arthur's exactly his type. God.]
I guess I should ask you the same thing, in that case.
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For a moment, he's silent, taking in the fact that he was just called darling. It probably shows on his face, the raised eyebrows, a bit askance. Is it an English thing? Or is this just an Eames thing? ]
Not if you can stay on task.
[ Since that's what really matters. Being able to get results. Never mind how this could be irritating as all hell. Arthur can push through it. ]
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I can multitask.
[Something flits over his face then, though, something more sincere and less... all of that before stuff. He's impressed Arthur's putting aside their differences.]
You're smart and capable. I appreciate that.
[Is what he ends up saying quietly. He rifles through his pockets.] You smoke?
no subject
[ Though he does believe him. Even if it's just a grain of belief, since forging is an art of multitasking. Keeping hold of the person's image, the way they move, how they speak. Arthur already knows he'd have difficulty even trying to do it. But then, he turns his powers of observation to a different end. For him, it's all in the details, in knowing the ins and outs of people and understanding the why.
Eames surprises him again, this time due to the easily given compliment. There might be a small blush filling out across his face. ]
Never picked it up. [ Having to keep up a continual peak form while in the military has stayed with him in small parts. Not to mention that he was really broke until about six months ago. ]
They'll be back pretty soon. If you want to avoid Dom judging your habits, may as well get that smoke in. Back porch is through there.
[ Arthur gestures towards the nice set of french doors leading out. ]
no subject
There's nothing quite like a handsome man pinking in the face at a compliment either. Eames perches the cigarette between his lips, digging for a lighter, and nods, saluting him.]
Be back.
[And then he's sauntering back there, enjoying the fuck out of that cigarette after all that goddamned tension.
He saunters back in at the last minute, smelling a bit smokey but looking more at ease. Which is an achievement, he supposes.]
That's them, I s'pose, [he murmurs as he hears car doors.]