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( Handily.
Arthur, you're a little shit. )
oh i like that 1.
does wondrful things 4 ur complexion.
which is a shame considering u'll go red when i choke u wit it
( True love. )
y.
sadly lost an alias but still got both hands an all my digits so at least i wont lost my grip on the competiton
Arthur, you're a little shit. )
oh i like that 1.
does wondrful things 4 ur complexion.
which is a shame considering u'll go red when i choke u wit it
( True love. )
y.
sadly lost an alias but still got both hands an all my digits so at least i wont lost my grip on the competiton
Is choking your new kink, Mr Eames? I never would have thought...
[ Only the truest love. ]
Yeah well your grip on reality may still be in question.
[ Only the truest love. ]
Yeah well your grip on reality may still be in question.
You know, as much as I have positive feelings towards lists I'll pass on the offer. It's a good attempt to woo me though.
[ He's actually quite amused. ]
I always had faith in your abilities. Are you coming stateside anytime soon?
[ He's actually quite amused. ]
I always had faith in your abilities. Are you coming stateside anytime soon?
Besides myself sometimes, no. Most people who feel homicidal towards you are in Europe.
There was an incident in Texas, but the company in question is under investigation. Doubt they'll try anything multiple states over.
[ And if they do, Arthur will gladly greet them armed with blackmail and a gun. He's protective. ]
There was an incident in Texas, but the company in question is under investigation. Doubt they'll try anything multiple states over.
[ And if they do, Arthur will gladly greet them armed with blackmail and a gun. He's protective. ]
( Eames already knows these things, but acting like he hasn't got a head on his shoulders always reassures him that Arthur cares, deep deep down inside. He wouldn't track these kind of things if he didn't. )
splendid.
mayb i'll pop round.
u workin @ the moment?
splendid.
mayb i'll pop round.
u workin @ the moment?
[ Arthur cares. He does. Admitting that, though, will be like pulling teeth. ]
Not currently. Between jobs– nothing interesting out there right now.
I'll be in New York for a couple more weeks.
Not currently. Between jobs– nothing interesting out there right now.
I'll be in New York for a couple more weeks.
( It's far too tempting. Eames has always liked having the opportunity to needle Arthur. That's why he works with him so often ( that and he's one of the best, that and he knows that with Arthur running point the likelihood of getting blown to smithereens is fairly low ). But being allowed to do so when not on the job?
Well. )
let me buy u a drink then.
we can catch up.
Well. )
let me buy u a drink then.
we can catch up.
[ Normally, Arthur keeps work and personal life separated. The last time he'd mixed those two, he ended up getting close to Mal and by extension Dom. That. Well. It hadn't worked out so well in some ways.
Still, he's extending the invitation to Eames, in a way. Not directly, but just in case the forger decides he'll take him up on it.
He doesn't know what it says about it him that he's glad when Eames agrees. ]
By all means, regale me with your achievements as of late.
I know a place. Small, not too noisy. The bartender is quite possibly the best in Manhattan.
Still, he's extending the invitation to Eames, in a way. Not directly, but just in case the forger decides he'll take him up on it.
He doesn't know what it says about it him that he's glad when Eames agrees. ]
By all means, regale me with your achievements as of late.
I know a place. Small, not too noisy. The bartender is quite possibly the best in Manhattan.
[ He's new to Kirkwall– but then, isn't that the story of nearly everyone here? The city is in unrest. Or rather, the world is. With the Blight just across the way in Ferelden, causing people to flee left, right, and center. Kirkwall was the closest haven, even if that word doesn't really describe the place. It's packed to the brim with refugees and the city hasn't exactly been welcoming.
Still, it's better than the alternative. So he stays, ducks just enough under the radar. He made his name as a thief for hire in Ferelden before, but that hasn't carried over here. It's a fresh start in a way. Bad since he has no contacts. Good because he has no strings attached. It's just him forging a new name for himself. Most of the jobs he's taken have been easy, solo, in and out.
This time though, he knows he's going to need at least one other person. Which brings him to the Hanged Man, places him at the bar where he can sip his drink and keep sharp eyes out for someone who might match the skillsets he's looking for. Thus far, it's just been one person– a raucous pirate woman on the other side of the bar. She's all flash; glint of gold, of teeth, of skin. But he's just watched her pickpocket at least three people.
Yeah, alright.
Arthur downs the rest of his drink before sliding over to her, all charming smiles. ]
Hey, can I get a lady like you a drink?
Still, it's better than the alternative. So he stays, ducks just enough under the radar. He made his name as a thief for hire in Ferelden before, but that hasn't carried over here. It's a fresh start in a way. Bad since he has no contacts. Good because he has no strings attached. It's just him forging a new name for himself. Most of the jobs he's taken have been easy, solo, in and out.
This time though, he knows he's going to need at least one other person. Which brings him to the Hanged Man, places him at the bar where he can sip his drink and keep sharp eyes out for someone who might match the skillsets he's looking for. Thus far, it's just been one person– a raucous pirate woman on the other side of the bar. She's all flash; glint of gold, of teeth, of skin. But he's just watched her pickpocket at least three people.
Yeah, alright.
Arthur downs the rest of his drink before sliding over to her, all charming smiles. ]
Hey, can I get a lady like you a drink?
[Isabela on the other hand had been laying low in Kirkwall for different reasons. Contrary to what the story tellers say, the life of a pirate isn't nearly as glamorous as it sounded. Sickness ravaging a crew, wild spontaneous storms, men cramped and antsy for a woman to bed for the night...it definitely had it's struggles, but all the wild tales and money earned was worth it. Her name had likely been tossed around here and there in hushed whispers for reasons both infamous and vulgar, but she'd come back to town to 'earn' some money to aid in repairs of her ship.
As to why she's at the Hanged Man, scummiest yet most popular bar in all of Lowtown? Well, the lack of questions asked for starters, and how even filching the most pompous of unlucky people coming in for a drink of coin is met with irritated looks and shouts for silence. The drinks weren't too bad either, if you put your standards aside for a night and drank till it didn't matter anymore.
But so far, her pockets sit with a nice weight of money, some she'd planned to use toward a drink or tree, the rest to put toward her ship she'd docked away from the eyes of the port authority. She's finishing up her second drink in fact when he comes over, and she regards him with a thorough once over and a chuckle as she waves at the bartender for attention. ]
You can, if you don't mind that I have particular tastes. [Mainly of the more expensive kind, especially if its on someone else's dime. She gives him a charming yet sly smile of her own, wondering what he could possibly want to approach her so eager and bold. Hopefully he wasn't another one of the many men she'd already waved off tonight to avoid their awful poetry.] Usually I like the higher end of the whiskey they have here, it tastes only slightly less of piss and bad decisions.
As to why she's at the Hanged Man, scummiest yet most popular bar in all of Lowtown? Well, the lack of questions asked for starters, and how even filching the most pompous of unlucky people coming in for a drink of coin is met with irritated looks and shouts for silence. The drinks weren't too bad either, if you put your standards aside for a night and drank till it didn't matter anymore.
But so far, her pockets sit with a nice weight of money, some she'd planned to use toward a drink or tree, the rest to put toward her ship she'd docked away from the eyes of the port authority. She's finishing up her second drink in fact when he comes over, and she regards him with a thorough once over and a chuckle as she waves at the bartender for attention. ]
You can, if you don't mind that I have particular tastes. [Mainly of the more expensive kind, especially if its on someone else's dime. She gives him a charming yet sly smile of her own, wondering what he could possibly want to approach her so eager and bold. Hopefully he wasn't another one of the many men she'd already waved off tonight to avoid their awful poetry.] Usually I like the higher end of the whiskey they have here, it tastes only slightly less of piss and bad decisions.
Only twice. You're getting old, Mr Eames.
Talk to you soon then.
Talk to you soon then.
( He texts Arthur right before he's supposed to get on a flight to NYC, a quick fire text exchange that both confirms the invitation is still open, and gets the address of his partner's quiet little bar off of him. For some reason, leaving it until the very last minute had felt better, as though there was less time for either of them to find an excuse not to meet.
Why that would matter he doesn't know. And if he does, he wouldn't admit it.
It's shortly after their arranged meet-up time, Eames puffing on a cigarette out front and seriously reconsidering his life choices. New York is still busy around him, the early evening luring out partygoers and tourists alike. He'd been caught in traffic with an overly friendly driver, and the nicotine isn't helping him as he nervously fiddles with the fag between his fingers.
Christ, he's a sad old arsehole.
Muttering to himself, he stubs out his light and pushes in, squinting through the dim light. It's not hard to spot Arthur, and so Eames rubs a palm over his stubbled jaw and wanders over. He's surprisingly put together for once. No salmon or paisley print around. Maybe he's making an effort, maybe not, but the smile he flashes is all Eames. )
Arthur.
( Arfur. )
Now you're a sight for sore eyes.
Why that would matter he doesn't know. And if he does, he wouldn't admit it.
It's shortly after their arranged meet-up time, Eames puffing on a cigarette out front and seriously reconsidering his life choices. New York is still busy around him, the early evening luring out partygoers and tourists alike. He'd been caught in traffic with an overly friendly driver, and the nicotine isn't helping him as he nervously fiddles with the fag between his fingers.
Christ, he's a sad old arsehole.
Muttering to himself, he stubs out his light and pushes in, squinting through the dim light. It's not hard to spot Arthur, and so Eames rubs a palm over his stubbled jaw and wanders over. He's surprisingly put together for once. No salmon or paisley print around. Maybe he's making an effort, maybe not, but the smile he flashes is all Eames. )
Arthur.
( Arfur. )
Now you're a sight for sore eyes.
[ When Eames texts him asking if the invite is still open– well, maybe he's a little surprised. It had been a gamble. Fifty-fifty that Eames would take him up on it. Arthur himself had been hesitant to extend the invitation to begin with. Mixing his personal and professional life was something he tried to do so rarely.
Maybe that's why he didn't have any friends, but that was something for another day.
Before the anxiety has time to settle in, he tells him yes. And ignores the bubbling fears that he's doing something stupid while he's answering the ensuing text conversation. They pick a day, a time, a place. And that's it, they're set.
He gets there (predictably) early. Arthur tells himself it's because he wants a good spot, but it's mostly so he can't psych himself out of his decision. Eventually, he catches sight of Eames from the small table he'd snagged in the corner. Something tugs at his subconscious– in the way the forger's dressed. No weird eye-searing patterns, a suit coat that actually fits him well. Perfectly well.
Arthur swallows a sip of his drink to sort out the sudden case of dry mouth before he greets Eames. ]
Hey. I could say the same for you. [ He taps his foot against the leg of the other chair, causing it to push away from the table. ] We got lucky, no one is throwing a bachelor party here tonight. Drink?
Maybe that's why he didn't have any friends, but that was something for another day.
Before the anxiety has time to settle in, he tells him yes. And ignores the bubbling fears that he's doing something stupid while he's answering the ensuing text conversation. They pick a day, a time, a place. And that's it, they're set.
He gets there (predictably) early. Arthur tells himself it's because he wants a good spot, but it's mostly so he can't psych himself out of his decision. Eventually, he catches sight of Eames from the small table he'd snagged in the corner. Something tugs at his subconscious– in the way the forger's dressed. No weird eye-searing patterns, a suit coat that actually fits him well. Perfectly well.
Arthur swallows a sip of his drink to sort out the sudden case of dry mouth before he greets Eames. ]
Hey. I could say the same for you. [ He taps his foot against the leg of the other chair, causing it to push away from the table. ] We got lucky, no one is throwing a bachelor party here tonight. Drink?
( Slumping into the chair is the easiest thing, far easier than actually coming here. The problem is, Eames actually likes Arthur. He's fond of him, of their back and forth quips, of the way the other man keeps him on his toes and makes his life interesting. It helps that he looks sinful most days, all sharp lines and angles and dark eyes, and that he gives Eames shit whenever he can simply because he can. They're not exactly friends, but they're something.
It's just that he's terrified of it too. He's too long in the tooth to let someone like Arthur unsettle him -- and yet, here he is, sweating like a schoolboy pawing through his dad's playboys. )
Please. M'parched.
( And social lubrication helps. )
It's a nice place. Not the kind I imagined you would haunt. It's much less monochrome.
( His smile is less sharp, he's only teasing. )
It's just that he's terrified of it too. He's too long in the tooth to let someone like Arthur unsettle him -- and yet, here he is, sweating like a schoolboy pawing through his dad's playboys. )
Please. M'parched.
( And social lubrication helps. )
It's a nice place. Not the kind I imagined you would haunt. It's much less monochrome.
( His smile is less sharp, he's only teasing. )
Edited (a word) 2018-01-22 18:27 (UTC)
[ He's in Mombasa to lay low.
After Fischer and the complete joyride that was the inception job, Arthur decided a break from dreamshare would probably be the best idea. The team split ways; Ariadne to Paris, Cobb to his kids, Saito in Japan, Eames... well, he was somewhere. Maybe in Vegas, spending his money gambling. Arthur tries to keep tabs on him, but he's being magnanimous and giving Eames a head start.
So he's in Mombasa. Normally he wouldn't go to the same place as another person on the team, since that's asking for trouble, but he'd done a lot of legwork to make sure he couldn't be traced here direct. Several looped flights, switched passports, and reservations at different hotels should be enough to keep anyone off of him that may be looking.
It's working thus far and no one has stumbled into his web of alerts, so he's going to kick back and enjoy. He'd contacted Yusuf with a burner phone ahead of time, asking to see his set up again– there was something wonderful about the dream den, as much as it gave him the absolute chills.
Which is what brings him here, to Yusuf's doorstep, waiting for the chemist to answer. The sun is hot out today, beating down on the front stoop– Arthur's glad he wore exclusively linen, despite the wrinkling. Though if Yusuf doesn't answer soon he's going to open the iced tea in his bag and not share. ]
After Fischer and the complete joyride that was the inception job, Arthur decided a break from dreamshare would probably be the best idea. The team split ways; Ariadne to Paris, Cobb to his kids, Saito in Japan, Eames... well, he was somewhere. Maybe in Vegas, spending his money gambling. Arthur tries to keep tabs on him, but he's being magnanimous and giving Eames a head start.
So he's in Mombasa. Normally he wouldn't go to the same place as another person on the team, since that's asking for trouble, but he'd done a lot of legwork to make sure he couldn't be traced here direct. Several looped flights, switched passports, and reservations at different hotels should be enough to keep anyone off of him that may be looking.
It's working thus far and no one has stumbled into his web of alerts, so he's going to kick back and enjoy. He'd contacted Yusuf with a burner phone ahead of time, asking to see his set up again– there was something wonderful about the dream den, as much as it gave him the absolute chills.
Which is what brings him here, to Yusuf's doorstep, waiting for the chemist to answer. The sun is hot out today, beating down on the front stoop– Arthur's glad he wore exclusively linen, despite the wrinkling. Though if Yusuf doesn't answer soon he's going to open the iced tea in his bag and not share. ]
Edited 2018-04-30 06:00 (UTC)
[ One thing he has yet to get used to in his tenure with COST is the downtime.
Not that he didn't have time off back home, it's just that he elected to pass on it. And with running after Cobb to keep him out of the hands of the Feds, he hadn't the luxury to spare even a few days to fuck off to Aruba or something. Before that, it'd been his high key anxieties that kept him from taking off too long, not wanting to stay in one spot overmuch. He likes dreamshare, loves it even, but it's a career that can be cut short fairly easily.
The most common cause of retirement is showing up dead.
Here there's a similar undercurrent of paranoia– the Regency could technically pop up at any point. They're also on an alien planet, with wildlife that may want to come after them. Somehow, the time on base still feels like he can relax in increments.
(Maybe it's because he isn't carrying everything on his shoulders any longer).
Which is why he's currently attempting to slide into Henry's lap in the natural hot springs. It seemed like a good idea. ]
Why didn't we think of this earlier?
Not that he didn't have time off back home, it's just that he elected to pass on it. And with running after Cobb to keep him out of the hands of the Feds, he hadn't the luxury to spare even a few days to fuck off to Aruba or something. Before that, it'd been his high key anxieties that kept him from taking off too long, not wanting to stay in one spot overmuch. He likes dreamshare, loves it even, but it's a career that can be cut short fairly easily.
The most common cause of retirement is showing up dead.
Here there's a similar undercurrent of paranoia– the Regency could technically pop up at any point. They're also on an alien planet, with wildlife that may want to come after them. Somehow, the time on base still feels like he can relax in increments.
(Maybe it's because he isn't carrying everything on his shoulders any longer).
Which is why he's currently attempting to slide into Henry's lap in the natural hot springs. It seemed like a good idea. ]
Why didn't we think of this earlier?
[ Henry, on the other hand, is definitely getting used to the downtime. He isn't lazy by any means, and he enjoys diving into work to forget about any pressing matters at hand. Speaking of pressing matters... ]
Guess we just never got past the door. Too eager, maybe?
[ Whether he means Arthur or himself or both, he doesn't say as he presses an open-mouthed kiss to Arthur's skin, wherever his mouth can reach. The heat wafting off of him leaves a pleasant tingling sensation on his lips and he can't get enough of it. His hands are already roaming, kneading deep into the curves of his hips, half submerged in the steamy water. ]
Guess we just never got past the door. Too eager, maybe?
[ Whether he means Arthur or himself or both, he doesn't say as he presses an open-mouthed kiss to Arthur's skin, wherever his mouth can reach. The heat wafting off of him leaves a pleasant tingling sensation on his lips and he can't get enough of it. His hands are already roaming, kneading deep into the curves of his hips, half submerged in the steamy water. ]
[By now, Rey has accepted that the hot springs are somehow an endlessly supplied sort of thing, that it won't run out just because it's being used, and while it still makes her head spin a little to think of something so excessive as a pool of hot water meant just to relax in, she's accepted that it's a thing.
She's also accepted that it's widely understood you get in naked. She's gone by herself a few times and has no problem with the concept, but on her walk up she's got a towel wrapped around herself for the warmth if nothing else, hair down from the usual half up thing she's gotten used to lately, and when she arrives in just a towel with her hair down she doesn't expect company. She doesn't expect anyone to see her looking so soft, without her staff on her back, ready to take a nice, long soak.
She also doesn't expect her spring to be already occupied... by two people. Who seem to be very invested in their time together.
That doesn't stop her, though, and she stands over them at the edge of the pool with her hand on one hip (the other holding the towel securely around herself, thank you) with a look of consternation on her face.
There's a grin trying to break though, though, so it's not a very good attempt at pretending to be annoyed.]
You know this isn't a private area, right?
She's also accepted that it's widely understood you get in naked. She's gone by herself a few times and has no problem with the concept, but on her walk up she's got a towel wrapped around herself for the warmth if nothing else, hair down from the usual half up thing she's gotten used to lately, and when she arrives in just a towel with her hair down she doesn't expect company. She doesn't expect anyone to see her looking so soft, without her staff on her back, ready to take a nice, long soak.
She also doesn't expect her spring to be already occupied... by two people. Who seem to be very invested in their time together.
That doesn't stop her, though, and she stands over them at the edge of the pool with her hand on one hip (the other holding the towel securely around herself, thank you) with a look of consternation on her face.
There's a grin trying to break though, though, so it's not a very good attempt at pretending to be annoyed.]
You know this isn't a private area, right?
Yeah, probably.
[ He admits it readily, mostly because Henry's hands are wandering and very distracting. Not something he's going to complain about, not at all. Half the reason he agreed to come out here was for this. No strings, just pressure relief. Arthur skims his palms along Henry's shoulders, lightly drags his nails down to his chest, leaves quickly fading pink marks in their wake.
There's barely an inch between their mouths when someone's voice cuts straight through the haze.
Resisting the urge to sigh, Arthur pulls away enough to angle a look at whomever's caught them very red handed.
Oh. ]
I'm indulging my exhibitionist streak.
[ It's deadpan, dry as a twig in a desert. ] Is that gonna make two of us?
[ He admits it readily, mostly because Henry's hands are wandering and very distracting. Not something he's going to complain about, not at all. Half the reason he agreed to come out here was for this. No strings, just pressure relief. Arthur skims his palms along Henry's shoulders, lightly drags his nails down to his chest, leaves quickly fading pink marks in their wake.
There's barely an inch between their mouths when someone's voice cuts straight through the haze.
Resisting the urge to sigh, Arthur pulls away enough to angle a look at whomever's caught them very red handed.
Oh. ]
I'm indulging my exhibitionist streak.
[ It's deadpan, dry as a twig in a desert. ] Is that gonna make two of us?
[ Like Arthur, Henry also turns his head slightly to greet the voice that just interrupted them. There's a sigh on his lips from the lingering heat left by Arthur's nails, and he doesn't bother hiding the heady expression it leaves on his face as he sees Rey.
Ah, yes. He knows her. They had quite a moment during their spider etiquette training. He looks from Arthur, then to Rey, then back to Arthur. ]
Don't you mean voyeuristic? Or...
[ Then back at Rey, a small creeping smile forming on his face. ]
Ah, yes. He knows her. They had quite a moment during their spider etiquette training. He looks from Arthur, then to Rey, then back to Arthur. ]
Don't you mean voyeuristic? Or...
[ Then back at Rey, a small creeping smile forming on his face. ]
[Wow, that's... not what she expected. She thought they'd stop, move apart, or at least look even slightly apologetic. She's used to the sensibilities of people from Earth keeping them from doing embarrassing things like this, but these two don't seem to mind that they've got a spectator for what's supposed to be an intimate thing.
Then again, maybe she's the one that's gone crazy. That almost sounded like Arthur trying to invite her to join in. Thankfully, that tone leaves her fairly certain he doesn't mean it.
Fairly. It's that smile Henry gives her that makes her eyebrows start to creep up, changing her amused look into one of surprise.]
I don't think we'll both fit on his lap.
[She goes with that, with answering Arthur's question about two of us, because it seems the least confusing route to go.
Mostly.]
Then again, maybe she's the one that's gone crazy. That almost sounded like Arthur trying to invite her to join in. Thankfully, that tone leaves her fairly certain he doesn't mean it.
Fairly. It's that smile Henry gives her that makes her eyebrows start to creep up, changing her amused look into one of surprise.]
I don't think we'll both fit on his lap.
[She goes with that, with answering Arthur's question about two of us, because it seems the least confusing route to go.
Mostly.]
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