[ When he'd chosen to come to New York School of Design, it'd been 1) because it was in New York, where he was close to already 2) they had interesting specializations. Mostly it was that it was local. Arthur already has an undergraduate degree in fashion merchandising, being much more interested in the business side of things rather than the actual creation.
But, he was a curious sort and never liked to have too much downtime on his hands. So he'd applied for the menswear specialization after painstakingly putting together a portfolio (it'd been so long since he'd done anything of the sort). Fast forward to months later and he's got his student housing all sorted out. It's not a dorm really, more of an in-between of a dorm and a real life apartment. But cheaper (thank god). He didn't luck out and get a single, but that was fine. Arthur was okay with people. And he didn't plan on being in the room much, more focused on getting those studio hours in on the machines and dress forms.
He's in the middle of unpacking his clothes, carefully hanging shirts and slacks in the closet he's claimed, when he hears the front door open, mostly likely letting in his new roommate. A pressed pair of pants hangs over his forearm as he peeks out of the room, waving a polite hello to the newcomer. ]
Hey. Decided to come early too?
But, he was a curious sort and never liked to have too much downtime on his hands. So he'd applied for the menswear specialization after painstakingly putting together a portfolio (it'd been so long since he'd done anything of the sort). Fast forward to months later and he's got his student housing all sorted out. It's not a dorm really, more of an in-between of a dorm and a real life apartment. But cheaper (thank god). He didn't luck out and get a single, but that was fine. Arthur was okay with people. And he didn't plan on being in the room much, more focused on getting those studio hours in on the machines and dress forms.
He's in the middle of unpacking his clothes, carefully hanging shirts and slacks in the closet he's claimed, when he hears the front door open, mostly likely letting in his new roommate. A pressed pair of pants hangs over his forearm as he peeks out of the room, waving a polite hello to the newcomer. ]
Hey. Decided to come early too?
the inception au that everyone wanted // arthur/eames/daenerys
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pointedlook
2017-10-14 02:38 am (UTC)(link)
[ Brussels is a lovely city, especially during this time of year. Fall is just starting to edge in, leaving the air crisp, fresh, clean. Leaves are changing color, turning things into a spectrum of red, orange, and gold.
Their mark had been the head of the main branch of the local bank and the client was very interested in their potential black market dealings. It'd been tricky, as the branch head wasn't militarized, but was a paranoid person. Made sense, considering his influence and power in the banking industry. However, from the research that Arthur had pulled up, he certainly had some black market deals, all of which would reflect poorly on his business.
Still, they'd had a job to do. Shady records were one thing, but they needed hard proof as a team.
So, he'd reported into Eames, who'd dragged him into this venture to begin with. Eames pulled in Dany, who seemed to be partnered up with him more often than not, and a chemist named Yuta. Together they'd constructed a two level dream, Dany played extractor, Eames and Arthur put together made a passable architect. He'd dreamed the second level, the back alley of a Brussels street. Eames had been in charge of the first, an elegant bank lobby complete with vault.
Aside from a few hiccups, they'd pulled it off, despite the stress. Dany was good, really good, and Arthur couldn't help but see why Eames had been tugging her all over the world lately. After the Fischer job, it was nice to be with extractors who didn't have subconsciouses in the form of dead wives and best friends who murdered you brutally.
When the job wrapped up, they all fled in different directions, as per protocol. Arthur took a train out of Brussels into Frankfurt, a bus to Berlin, and then flew from there to Madrid. Maybe it was more steps than usual, but he liked Germany. The time before his flight out of Berlin had given him enough to look around and enjoy the city before he had to move.
But now he was here in Madrid, having met back up with Eames and Dany, who had been steadily trying to drink each other under the table. They were blowing off steam from the job, which had a short turn around and a demanding client. Earlier in the night, he'd drank one pint of beer and then a glass of bourbon. Since then, he'd been steady with water and cola. Someone had to make sure they all got back to their hotel suite safely. ]
Both of you are going to regret this come morning.
Their mark had been the head of the main branch of the local bank and the client was very interested in their potential black market dealings. It'd been tricky, as the branch head wasn't militarized, but was a paranoid person. Made sense, considering his influence and power in the banking industry. However, from the research that Arthur had pulled up, he certainly had some black market deals, all of which would reflect poorly on his business.
Still, they'd had a job to do. Shady records were one thing, but they needed hard proof as a team.
So, he'd reported into Eames, who'd dragged him into this venture to begin with. Eames pulled in Dany, who seemed to be partnered up with him more often than not, and a chemist named Yuta. Together they'd constructed a two level dream, Dany played extractor, Eames and Arthur put together made a passable architect. He'd dreamed the second level, the back alley of a Brussels street. Eames had been in charge of the first, an elegant bank lobby complete with vault.
Aside from a few hiccups, they'd pulled it off, despite the stress. Dany was good, really good, and Arthur couldn't help but see why Eames had been tugging her all over the world lately. After the Fischer job, it was nice to be with extractors who didn't have subconsciouses in the form of dead wives and best friends who murdered you brutally.
When the job wrapped up, they all fled in different directions, as per protocol. Arthur took a train out of Brussels into Frankfurt, a bus to Berlin, and then flew from there to Madrid. Maybe it was more steps than usual, but he liked Germany. The time before his flight out of Berlin had given him enough to look around and enjoy the city before he had to move.
But now he was here in Madrid, having met back up with Eames and Dany, who had been steadily trying to drink each other under the table. They were blowing off steam from the job, which had a short turn around and a demanding client. Earlier in the night, he'd drank one pint of beer and then a glass of bourbon. Since then, he'd been steady with water and cola. Someone had to make sure they all got back to their hotel suite safely. ]
Both of you are going to regret this come morning.
[As long as he's known both Dany and Arthur, he's respected them. Took them entirely serious? No. Held back from teasing the snot out of them? No. But respected them? Yes. They're both formidable in the field, wielding weapons as easily as breathing. They both have more of a patience for organization and leadership than Eames does. He always knew the three of them would be a force to be reckoned with.
He can't deny that he finds them both incredibly attractive, both in physicality and personality. Arthur is terribly fun to rile up, but he's especially fun when he teases back. And Dany... He's gotten used to working with her. She takes charge, and she's smart as a whip. And, not to mention, sexy as hell.
Madrid is wonderful today. Almost a perfect temperature for Eames. And Eames is wonderful. Being pissed is great. Everything's great.
Eames' face alights with a grin at Arthur's words. As soon as he was there, he'd changed to jeans and a dress shirt, the sleeves pushed up so tattoos are revealed. He leans over to hail a taxi, wiggling his fingers.]
You're going to regret not indulging. Dany's the fun one here.
He can't deny that he finds them both incredibly attractive, both in physicality and personality. Arthur is terribly fun to rile up, but he's especially fun when he teases back. And Dany... He's gotten used to working with her. She takes charge, and she's smart as a whip. And, not to mention, sexy as hell.
Madrid is wonderful today. Almost a perfect temperature for Eames. And Eames is wonderful. Being pissed is great. Everything's great.
Eames' face alights with a grin at Arthur's words. As soon as he was there, he'd changed to jeans and a dress shirt, the sleeves pushed up so tattoos are revealed. He leans over to hail a taxi, wiggling his fingers.]
You're going to regret not indulging. Dany's the fun one here.
[ What task didn't come with its hiccups? There were always unforeseen events to be had, things that not even Arthur could anticipate, no matter how many hours of endless research he did. So much as he is essential to their jobs for the level of detail he offers, so too is Eames for his ability to improvise in the face of their... challenges. To have both of these men with her merely proves the words spoken of them in the Dreamshare network: they are the best of the best.
They offer a level of detail which compliments her own ferocity in the face of a job. Extracting requires a fine balance between aggressiveness and a delicate touch, a soft spoken word, acquiescing in the face of the mark's biases and allowing them their comfort before she steals their secrets. There is no room for pride, though her pride smarts from time to time and sometimes prompts a more willful approach to felling their opposition--be it in the dreams, or reality.
Madrid is a warm clime, a city bustling with life. It's easy to lose oneself on the streets--perhaps not as effortlessly as New York, but enough. What's important is its energy. It reinvigorates her as she stands on the streets with Arthur and Eames, a smile playing on her lips as she listens to their banter. Idly, she toys with her totem, a three-headed dragon necklace. She dons skinny jeans, a tanktop, and a blazer which reaches mid-forearm. Not exactly dressy and accepting of the current weather, but practical in the wake of a job.
It also allows her to hide a gun. ]
Play is just as important as work, Arthur, [ she says, fingers gliding along the small of Eames' back before she loops her arm with Arthur's. Touching is not a normal thing, but alcohol invites an entirely new viewpoint on what should be normal. ] Maybe we should spike your coffee with liquor, that would make him more fun, wouldn't it Eames?
They offer a level of detail which compliments her own ferocity in the face of a job. Extracting requires a fine balance between aggressiveness and a delicate touch, a soft spoken word, acquiescing in the face of the mark's biases and allowing them their comfort before she steals their secrets. There is no room for pride, though her pride smarts from time to time and sometimes prompts a more willful approach to felling their opposition--be it in the dreams, or reality.
Madrid is a warm clime, a city bustling with life. It's easy to lose oneself on the streets--perhaps not as effortlessly as New York, but enough. What's important is its energy. It reinvigorates her as she stands on the streets with Arthur and Eames, a smile playing on her lips as she listens to their banter. Idly, she toys with her totem, a three-headed dragon necklace. She dons skinny jeans, a tanktop, and a blazer which reaches mid-forearm. Not exactly dressy and accepting of the current weather, but practical in the wake of a job.
It also allows her to hide a gun. ]
Play is just as important as work, Arthur, [ she says, fingers gliding along the small of Eames' back before she loops her arm with Arthur's. Touching is not a normal thing, but alcohol invites an entirely new viewpoint on what should be normal. ] Maybe we should spike your coffee with liquor, that would make him more fun, wouldn't it Eames?
[ Having finished their jobs, they'd all dressed down. In some ways, it was odd to see the people he worked with in normal clothes.
Though, for once, Eames isn't in something awful and eye-searing, so he'll count his blessings. Dany has opted for something light and easy to move in. In the right light he can tell there's a gun somewhere on her person. But only because he's looking. Anyone else wouldn't notice– in his mind, she goes up a few notches of respect. As for himself, he's shed his suit jacket and tie, changed into a less dressy shirt that didn't require cufflinks. He'd rolled up his sleeves to the elbow, edges of the fabric as perfectly squared off as he could get them. At some point in the airport, he'd run a hand through his hair, freeing some of it from the gel that kept it in place.
All in all, he's sure they make an interesting trio on the sidewalk outside of the bar. Especially as Dany happily loops an arm in his, her other hand sliding to the small of Eames' back. Overly familiar, overly friendly. Rather than shrug her off though, he allows the contact, oddly comfortable. ]
Yeah, yeah, spare me the lecture. I get it enough. [ Still, his tone is fond. Not as edged and sharp as it could be. Eames and Dany both fall into the category that allows him to banter like this, freely, with no hard feelings.
A cab slows and pulls up the curb and Arthur being the most sober of the three takes it upon himself to give directions. In Spanish.
It's rustier than his French, but it's passable. Opening the door, he gestures for the other two to get in first, just in case they lose their balance on the way down. ]
C'mon, you can spike my coffee at the hotel if you remember.
Though, for once, Eames isn't in something awful and eye-searing, so he'll count his blessings. Dany has opted for something light and easy to move in. In the right light he can tell there's a gun somewhere on her person. But only because he's looking. Anyone else wouldn't notice– in his mind, she goes up a few notches of respect. As for himself, he's shed his suit jacket and tie, changed into a less dressy shirt that didn't require cufflinks. He'd rolled up his sleeves to the elbow, edges of the fabric as perfectly squared off as he could get them. At some point in the airport, he'd run a hand through his hair, freeing some of it from the gel that kept it in place.
All in all, he's sure they make an interesting trio on the sidewalk outside of the bar. Especially as Dany happily loops an arm in his, her other hand sliding to the small of Eames' back. Overly familiar, overly friendly. Rather than shrug her off though, he allows the contact, oddly comfortable. ]
Yeah, yeah, spare me the lecture. I get it enough. [ Still, his tone is fond. Not as edged and sharp as it could be. Eames and Dany both fall into the category that allows him to banter like this, freely, with no hard feelings.
A cab slows and pulls up the curb and Arthur being the most sober of the three takes it upon himself to give directions. In Spanish.
It's rustier than his French, but it's passable. Opening the door, he gestures for the other two to get in first, just in case they lose their balance on the way down. ]
C'mon, you can spike my coffee at the hotel if you remember.
[ True to his word, at eighteen Uryuu flew. The farther from Ryuuken, the better. Though it might have gotten him next-to disowned to forsake a medical path and apply in secret to schools across the world, for Uryuu, it was essential. A matter of survival. It had already been years since he last asked that man for a yen. Astronomically foolish, with a measure of stupidity that man had somehow underestimated his capacity for -- he'd heard it all.
He didn't care.
Or about the utter unavailability of scholarships for this avenue of study. Foreign students were too appealing as sources of revenue. Few wanted to give a loan to a student without a parent's backing, but at high enough interest rates, even the most cautious looked away. Add to that visa wrangling to permit working an arguably illegal number of hours at an assortment of jobs, and really, it was astronomically stupid.
Not with the trouble by any account.
Only, Uryuu thrilled for it, a yearning long buried in his blood, able here to breathe.
Thoughts of devoting his every hour to the Fashion Design track, of students modeling his clothing; these were dreams within his grasp. Even having to share an apartment for sheer practicality--Uryuu wasn't okay with people--couldn't dampen his mood. After all, though antisocial at best, he knew he would be far too busy for prolonged interaction.
His frugal, already separating life had fit into a small suitcase, wheeled now as he unlocks the door. It does surprise him to hear life, to see the light. Both travel and his nature had made him this early. It's unusual to be beaten in that. Uryuu blinks, and instinctively begins to bow, before stopping himself a quarter through it. Instead, delayed, he lifts his hand.
At least his English is good. ]
Hello.
[ ...and since his being here means, yes, obviously he also decided to come early, he just doesn't answer that. He did, however, receive some basic information about his roommate, enough to, while slipping off his shoes and shutting the door, conjecture the equally obvious. ]
Arthur?
[ It feels too familiar, and he almost grimaces for that, but Americans don't use suffixes. Even if this guy is older, he isn't going to call him Mr. Smith, either. ]
He didn't care.
Or about the utter unavailability of scholarships for this avenue of study. Foreign students were too appealing as sources of revenue. Few wanted to give a loan to a student without a parent's backing, but at high enough interest rates, even the most cautious looked away. Add to that visa wrangling to permit working an arguably illegal number of hours at an assortment of jobs, and really, it was astronomically stupid.
Not with the trouble by any account.
Only, Uryuu thrilled for it, a yearning long buried in his blood, able here to breathe.
Thoughts of devoting his every hour to the Fashion Design track, of students modeling his clothing; these were dreams within his grasp. Even having to share an apartment for sheer practicality--Uryuu wasn't okay with people--couldn't dampen his mood. After all, though antisocial at best, he knew he would be far too busy for prolonged interaction.
His frugal, already separating life had fit into a small suitcase, wheeled now as he unlocks the door. It does surprise him to hear life, to see the light. Both travel and his nature had made him this early. It's unusual to be beaten in that. Uryuu blinks, and instinctively begins to bow, before stopping himself a quarter through it. Instead, delayed, he lifts his hand.
At least his English is good. ]
Hello.
[ ...and since his being here means, yes, obviously he also decided to come early, he just doesn't answer that. He did, however, receive some basic information about his roommate, enough to, while slipping off his shoes and shutting the door, conjecture the equally obvious. ]
Arthur?
[ It feels too familiar, and he almost grimaces for that, but Americans don't use suffixes. Even if this guy is older, he isn't going to call him Mr. Smith, either. ]
[Eames listens to Arthur speak Spanish, trying to gauge if he's better than the other man. Eh, he couldn't beat him now. He's too pissed.
And then... he feels the hand at the small of his back and lights up, eyes going to Dany with the most mischievous look he can muster.
Arthur gestures, and Eames gives him a grin.]
Arthur's holding the door for us. Isn't that gentlemanly?
[But he'll go ahead and get in, sliding to the other side. And then he has a thought and grins.]
Will you squeeze in extra tight or does this mean you two get to fight over who gets to sit with me?
And then... he feels the hand at the small of his back and lights up, eyes going to Dany with the most mischievous look he can muster.
Arthur gestures, and Eames gives him a grin.]
Arthur's holding the door for us. Isn't that gentlemanly?
[But he'll go ahead and get in, sliding to the other side. And then he has a thought and grins.]
Will you squeeze in extra tight or does this mean you two get to fight over who gets to sit with me?
[ Right, Uryuu is from Japan.
The thought clicks in his head as Ishida seems to get halfway through a bow and then abort the motion, opting for a hand wave instead. Arthur makes no mention of it and nods politely in greeting. It was already stressful enough, he's sure, flying all the way from Japan to New York. The cultural differences were likely to pick themselves out and he wasn't going to add to the pile. ]
Yeah. What would you prefer? [ There's about a million rules to addressing someone else in Japan, this he knows. Whatever Ishida decides, he'll go with. ]
The thought clicks in his head as Ishida seems to get halfway through a bow and then abort the motion, opting for a hand wave instead. Arthur makes no mention of it and nods politely in greeting. It was already stressful enough, he's sure, flying all the way from Japan to New York. The cultural differences were likely to pick themselves out and he wasn't going to add to the pile. ]
Yeah. What would you prefer? [ There's about a million rules to addressing someone else in Japan, this he knows. Whatever Ishida decides, he'll go with. ]
[ Prefer? Smith-san and Ishida-kun is the only proper answer, given their respective ages and programs. But whatever his rigidity, it must bend in America, and it would be unreasonable to expect his roommate to use Japanese suffixes here. Don't stand out. Not like this.
But he walks back his aversion to Smith, though he's used Arthur. Surnames can't be too out of place, and he doesn't know that he could stand Uryuu without crawling in his skin, as though the words crowded him close, a smothering. ]
Actually... Ishida. Do you mind if I use Smith?
[ ... ]
It's a little rude.
[ Admitted, uncertainty flickering, because he doesn't intend to be, but given names would far exceed it. ]
But he walks back his aversion to Smith, though he's used Arthur. Surnames can't be too out of place, and he doesn't know that he could stand Uryuu without crawling in his skin, as though the words crowded him close, a smothering. ]
Actually... Ishida. Do you mind if I use Smith?
[ ... ]
It's a little rude.
[ Admitted, uncertainty flickering, because he doesn't intend to be, but given names would far exceed it. ]
[ Well, he told himself that whatever Uryuu wanted to use, he'd be ok with. Except then he's being called by his last name and it's so left field he inwardly cringes. More to the point, he would never know if he was being addressed.
So maybe he'll just renege on that right away. It rankles, since he's usually accommodating, goes with the flow easily and course corrects if there's any small bump.
But, this was long term. May as well have it right from the outset. ]
Actually, Arthur is fine. My dad went by Smith, so it feels...odd. [ He gives Ishida an approximation of an apologetic glance. Nothing too meek but getting the point across. ]
Need any help unpacking? [ An easy subject change, something that didn't highlight their cultural differences. ]
So maybe he'll just renege on that right away. It rankles, since he's usually accommodating, goes with the flow easily and course corrects if there's any small bump.
But, this was long term. May as well have it right from the outset. ]
Actually, Arthur is fine. My dad went by Smith, so it feels...odd. [ He gives Ishida an approximation of an apologetic glance. Nothing too meek but getting the point across. ]
Need any help unpacking? [ An easy subject change, something that didn't highlight their cultural differences. ]
[ Just like that, it's awkward. Not terribly, but enough. Should have, but didn't. He's well enough accustomed to social chafing to recover, and Smith, Arthur, insists firmly, but with fine manners. Nothing to fault but his own presumption.
Uryuu nods, then glad of the change, but the subject's as odd. It may not be cultural, but it's unthinkable to him. His eyes drop to his bag, the more than manageable size of it, before returning to Arthur's.
Not entirely successful at wringing out blunted confusion. ]
No.
[ ... ]
Thanks.
[ ...he does really need to do better than this, given, roommates. Uryuu takes a step, case rolling. Pauses, trying. ]
You haven't finished, right?
Uryuu nods, then glad of the change, but the subject's as odd. It may not be cultural, but it's unthinkable to him. His eyes drop to his bag, the more than manageable size of it, before returning to Arthur's.
Not entirely successful at wringing out blunted confusion. ]
No.
[ ... ]
Thanks.
[ ...he does really need to do better than this, given, roommates. Uryuu takes a step, case rolling. Pauses, trying. ]
You haven't finished, right?
Oh yes, so gentlemanly I might swoon, [ she says, voice surprisingly sincere. Sadly, that sincerity is lost in the gleam of mischievousness in her eyes. Still, she sends Arthur a sweet smile before she ducks in after Eames, wobbly in her steps, but still able to wiggle into the seat beside him, pressing close so that Arthur can squeeze in, as well.
Of course, assuming Arthur does choose to sit in the back with them, it will prove to be a very tight fit. Which is why she'll push herself onto their laps: rump on Eames' thigh, legs draped across Arthur's lap. Her arm will drape across Eames' shoulder as well, to keep herself steady.
And if he chooses the front seat (which would be terribly boring, Arthur), she'll merely lean back, idly pressing the button to roll down the window. ]
I'll remember. The three of us should celebrate. Not two out of three.
Of course, assuming Arthur does choose to sit in the back with them, it will prove to be a very tight fit. Which is why she'll push herself onto their laps: rump on Eames' thigh, legs draped across Arthur's lap. Her arm will drape across Eames' shoulder as well, to keep herself steady.
And if he chooses the front seat (which would be terribly boring, Arthur), she'll merely lean back, idly pressing the button to roll down the window. ]
I'll remember. The three of us should celebrate. Not two out of three.
[ It's only through years of practice that Arthur doesn't give in and roll his eyes at Eames. Instead, he simply waits for Dany to wiggle her way into the car, scooting over as much as she can in the back seat. It's looking a bit cramped for the three of them, especially since he's lanky and made up of mostly leg.
But whatever. He can deal. The hotel really isn't that far. So he drops himself into the furthest seat, squeezing in next to Dany and then shutting the car door. Ever the one to follow rules, he buckles in before he fully settles. The car pulls away from the curb, slowly but surely, then down the street to their destination. ]
We'll see.
[ Maybe it's the tightness of the space, but Dany rearranges herself, butt on Eames' lap and her legs stretched across Arthur's. Honestly, it is more comfortable. He sets one hand loosely on her ankle, the other higher up on her knee, keeping her steady. ]
I'll have you know both of you are drinking at least one glass of water when we get to the room.
[ And it really is a short ride, because he can make out the height of the hotel from his window. The streets of Madrid are a maze though, so he wouldn't be surprised if it took longer than anticipated. ]
But whatever. He can deal. The hotel really isn't that far. So he drops himself into the furthest seat, squeezing in next to Dany and then shutting the car door. Ever the one to follow rules, he buckles in before he fully settles. The car pulls away from the curb, slowly but surely, then down the street to their destination. ]
We'll see.
[ Maybe it's the tightness of the space, but Dany rearranges herself, butt on Eames' lap and her legs stretched across Arthur's. Honestly, it is more comfortable. He sets one hand loosely on her ankle, the other higher up on her knee, keeping her steady. ]
I'll have you know both of you are drinking at least one glass of water when we get to the room.
[ And it really is a short ride, because he can make out the height of the hotel from his window. The streets of Madrid are a maze though, so he wouldn't be surprised if it took longer than anticipated. ]
[ At this point, he can't tell if Uryuu is shy or just. Not good with people. He'll give him a little more time (and observation) before he makes any hard decisions.
Still, he can't help the slight eyebrow raise that happens when Uryuu looks down to his bag and then back again. That's it, that has to be all his belongings. Well, he's a light packer at least, something he can appreciate. ]
All my personal things, yeah. Place comes with furniture and I brought dishes; I left them alone in case you wanted input.
[ Arthur nods towards the nearby kitchen and the cramped living area that adjoins it. There's a couch, a chair, a coffee table, side table, and some weird floor lamp that's all backed against the wall. In the kitchen, dishes and cups are set out on the island, ready to be placed away. ]
Still, he can't help the slight eyebrow raise that happens when Uryuu looks down to his bag and then back again. That's it, that has to be all his belongings. Well, he's a light packer at least, something he can appreciate. ]
All my personal things, yeah. Place comes with furniture and I brought dishes; I left them alone in case you wanted input.
[ Arthur nods towards the nearby kitchen and the cramped living area that adjoins it. There's a couch, a chair, a coffee table, side table, and some weird floor lamp that's all backed against the wall. In the kitchen, dishes and cups are set out on the island, ready to be placed away. ]
[ Dishes. He thinks of the single plate, cup, and bowl in his bag, the few pairs of chopsticks and other assorted, limited utensils. Even before he'd moved out of Ryuuken's house, it had been difficult to think of anything within it as his, even as shared. After his mother died, he'd felt more and more like a visitor, and an unwelcome one at that.
It will take some adjusting, he can see -- more than he'd appreciated when opting for cost efficiency. Living with another person. Even if they rarely see one another. Close quarters and shared amenities. Practical adjustment as well as semantic, conceptual.
He's been on his own for so long, confronting the facts of company, the visible evidence of it -- his gaze following that nod, absorbing the provisions both provided and bought -- feels akin to the shock of a heated interior, when stepping in from the cold. ]
I don't have any input.
[ He hadn't thought to, doesn't know where to begin. But -- he can guess at the proper question, or one of them. It isn't one he wants to ask, exposing his total ignorance in this area, but better to be vulnerable than rude. ]
Should I have brought something?
It will take some adjusting, he can see -- more than he'd appreciated when opting for cost efficiency. Living with another person. Even if they rarely see one another. Close quarters and shared amenities. Practical adjustment as well as semantic, conceptual.
He's been on his own for so long, confronting the facts of company, the visible evidence of it -- his gaze following that nod, absorbing the provisions both provided and bought -- feels akin to the shock of a heated interior, when stepping in from the cold. ]
I don't have any input.
[ He hadn't thought to, doesn't know where to begin. But -- he can guess at the proper question, or one of them. It isn't one he wants to ask, exposing his total ignorance in this area, but better to be vulnerable than rude. ]
Should I have brought something?
[ Shock seems to pass through Uryuu and Arthur has to remember that this is probably his first time really out on his own. Even if he was independent-minded, he was a few years younger, coming to school fresh.
It's also probably his first time living with anyone outside of the family. He stops himself before he tries to analyze any further. They'd just met. Shrugging, he smiles a little, attempting friendly even if his default is somewhere closer to impassive. ]
Alright, I'll let you know where I decide to put them.
[ And now it's his turn to be shocked. Arthur's eyebrows go up a fraction and he waves off the question. ]
Don't worry about it. I was living close by, before. Just brought things I liked. [ A beat. ] Room's this way– took one of the closets already; just let me know if you need me to move anything.
It's also probably his first time living with anyone outside of the family. He stops himself before he tries to analyze any further. They'd just met. Shrugging, he smiles a little, attempting friendly even if his default is somewhere closer to impassive. ]
Alright, I'll let you know where I decide to put them.
[ And now it's his turn to be shocked. Arthur's eyebrows go up a fraction and he waves off the question. ]
Don't worry about it. I was living close by, before. Just brought things I liked. [ A beat. ] Room's this way– took one of the closets already; just let me know if you need me to move anything.
[ They're coming off one job and hopping into another one. Not so back to back, since Arthur had carefully outlined the timeline, but it's close. This leaves them flying from Hong Kong into San Diego and then onto Atlanta. He's never spent a lot of time in the south, so he's a little disappointed they won't be able to see much of the city while they're there. Too much research and work to do.
Their architect will be meeting them there, at the appointed meeting spot in a couple days. Before then, he has some information to compile. And Dany, well, she has some work too, but mostly they both will need rest after such a long haul.
The room at the hotel is shared, spacious, two beds. As a group, they'll be working out of a warehouse he'd rented space for earlier in the month. Here in the hotel though, they can relax for a time. Arthur waves the keycard in front of the lock and hears the soft beep that allows them entry. Pushing the door open, he holds it for Dany before following in after, wordlessly dropping his bag onto the nearby desk. ]
Hungry? I can have room service send something up.
Their architect will be meeting them there, at the appointed meeting spot in a couple days. Before then, he has some information to compile. And Dany, well, she has some work too, but mostly they both will need rest after such a long haul.
The room at the hotel is shared, spacious, two beds. As a group, they'll be working out of a warehouse he'd rented space for earlier in the month. Here in the hotel though, they can relax for a time. Arthur waves the keycard in front of the lock and hears the soft beep that allows them entry. Pushing the door open, he holds it for Dany before following in after, wordlessly dropping his bag onto the nearby desk. ]
Hungry? I can have room service send something up.
[ Mal Cobb is dead.
The words had hit him straight in the chest, point blank. They'd rattled around in his head and his ribcage, like something had shaken loose and couldn't anchor again. Arthur's always been good at compartmentalizing, had needed to learn in the military– seeing someone get shot right next to you did things to a person.
But he'd never expected this kind of news. Mal had been a civilian and while so many died from cancer, car accidents, freak accidents, even suicide; she'd never seemed the type. Maybe he was too much of an optimist, bent on hoping that his closest friend and confidante would heal. That she'd put away the notion that this world wasn't reality. Her psych evals had leveled out in the last few months. They all thought she might be getting better.
Instead, she'd turned all her cards against them. Against Dom, her husband, leaving papers behind that he was dangerous for her health. And in the end, before they'd left on their anniversary getaway, she'd patted Arthur on the cheek and said she missed him. In the aftermath, there hadn't been a note. She hadn't believed he'd been real. And that stung almost as much as the news of her jumping from reality into death.
So it's natural that he's waiting for Dom in the airport in Frankfurt. Because if someone stitched both their hearts together, maybe they'd get a whole. And maybe with enough time, he'd get Dom back to his life, to his children, to help him pick up the pieces of a shattered life. He waits, glances at his watch and at the escalator leading to baggage claim, trying not to tap his foot nervously.
The words had hit him straight in the chest, point blank. They'd rattled around in his head and his ribcage, like something had shaken loose and couldn't anchor again. Arthur's always been good at compartmentalizing, had needed to learn in the military– seeing someone get shot right next to you did things to a person.
But he'd never expected this kind of news. Mal had been a civilian and while so many died from cancer, car accidents, freak accidents, even suicide; she'd never seemed the type. Maybe he was too much of an optimist, bent on hoping that his closest friend and confidante would heal. That she'd put away the notion that this world wasn't reality. Her psych evals had leveled out in the last few months. They all thought she might be getting better.
Instead, she'd turned all her cards against them. Against Dom, her husband, leaving papers behind that he was dangerous for her health. And in the end, before they'd left on their anniversary getaway, she'd patted Arthur on the cheek and said she missed him. In the aftermath, there hadn't been a note. She hadn't believed he'd been real. And that stung almost as much as the news of her jumping from reality into death.
So it's natural that he's waiting for Dom in the airport in Frankfurt. Because if someone stitched both their hearts together, maybe they'd get a whole. And maybe with enough time, he'd get Dom back to his life, to his children, to help him pick up the pieces of a shattered life. He waits, glances at his watch and at the escalator leading to baggage claim, trying not to tap his foot nervously.
[ The heels of her shoes tap-tap-tap on hardwood floors in the lobby, the points (weapons, as it were) sinking into the carpet of the halls. She's reading something on her phone as they meander down said hall, he with his suitcase, she with her rollerbag. They appear as a flashy couple in a flashy hotel, as it were, and thus draw little attention to themselves. He with his crisp and meticulously tailored suit, she with her form-fitting sheath dress.
Despite the trip, not a hair is out of place on either of their heads. Preferable. She's not a vain creature, but Dany does prefer to look presentable. It seemed to have worked upon their exit of the airport and their entrance into the hotel.
She sets her phone down upon entering their room, pushing her bag beside the large dresser. ]
I'd prefer a drink after listening to that baby the entire flight. [ It's a tired joke as she slips out of her shoes, leaning forward to rub one foot. ] We should have something. Neither of us can exist on coffee alone.
[ That earns a pointed look, before she abandons her task and claims the bed nearest the door, sitting on its edge with a soft groan. Then it's on to the task of pulling her hose off. It's a simple gesture, but still a meaningful one. Paranoia in their line of work would dictate the bed nearest the door is the least safe, should someone deem it necessary to break in. Arthur is far better a shot than she is, anyway. ]
Do they have a fruit plate? I'd like a burger and fruit, not fries.
Despite the trip, not a hair is out of place on either of their heads. Preferable. She's not a vain creature, but Dany does prefer to look presentable. It seemed to have worked upon their exit of the airport and their entrance into the hotel.
She sets her phone down upon entering their room, pushing her bag beside the large dresser. ]
I'd prefer a drink after listening to that baby the entire flight. [ It's a tired joke as she slips out of her shoes, leaning forward to rub one foot. ] We should have something. Neither of us can exist on coffee alone.
[ That earns a pointed look, before she abandons her task and claims the bed nearest the door, sitting on its edge with a soft groan. Then it's on to the task of pulling her hose off. It's a simple gesture, but still a meaningful one. Paranoia in their line of work would dictate the bed nearest the door is the least safe, should someone deem it necessary to break in. Arthur is far better a shot than she is, anyway. ]
Do they have a fruit plate? I'd like a burger and fruit, not fries.
[ Not a hair out of place, because that's just how they were. Though frankly, he couldn't wait to get out of this suit and into something more comfortable. After so many hours spent in the air and in airports, the suit started to itch. Or maybe he just got twitchy. Whatever the case, he was ready to not have to show this professional face to the world.
Just a little longer and he'd get his wish.
At Dany's answer, he raises an eyebrow, the flicker of a smile curling his mouth. ]
What's your poison? Tequila?
[ He's been out drinking with her before, but she always seems to mix it up. Toeing his shoes off and neatly placing them at the foot of his bed– now that Dany has picked hers, ladies first obviously– he makes his way over to the side table. There's a menu sitting on top, conveniently located near the phone. With a quick perusal, it does look like there's fruit. ]
Fresh fruit, even. Rare, medium, or well? [ And then, after a beat: ] You might have to prop me up to eat, feels like my eyes are gonna revolt and cross.
Just a little longer and he'd get his wish.
At Dany's answer, he raises an eyebrow, the flicker of a smile curling his mouth. ]
What's your poison? Tequila?
[ He's been out drinking with her before, but she always seems to mix it up. Toeing his shoes off and neatly placing them at the foot of his bed– now that Dany has picked hers, ladies first obviously– he makes his way over to the side table. There's a menu sitting on top, conveniently located near the phone. With a quick perusal, it does look like there's fruit. ]
Fresh fruit, even. Rare, medium, or well? [ And then, after a beat: ] You might have to prop me up to eat, feels like my eyes are gonna revolt and cross.
His wife is dead.
He doesn't believe it, even if he knows. Those are two separate feelings, two separate emotions, things he'd never thought about except for the fact that now he's faced with both of them at the same time. He watched her, watched the woman he loved and cared for jump like it was nothing.
It's his fault.
It's his fault, and he can't tell a single soul.
Dom Cobb really did kill his wife, he thinks, even if he had just tried to make her happy. Those papers aren't completely wrong. Mal, in her last ditch effort to 'wake him up,' wasn't wrong. He'd made Mal do this.
The only good thing about--well, any of this--is that he doesn't have time to think. Not really, he doesn't have time to process, either. It feels like a kick, like a splash of water on his face and then 'you have to go' and 'here's a plane ticket.'
He doesn't even get time to see his kids.
He barely sleeps on the plane--he barely sleeps anymore anyway, he can't (he doesn't want to), and when he lands in Frankfurt it seems like a blur. He's exhausted, blinking with dry eyes, brows furrowed together as he realizes all of the people look blurry, like a poor man's projections if such a thing were to exist. All but one.
Cobb immediately makes his way towards him.
"Arthur." It's quiet greeting, soft but firm, laced with so many emotions Cobb can't quite show them all so it comes across as numb, almost bland. His brow settles, if only for a moment.
"Thank you." He didn't expect Arthur to be here, not really, but he can't say he's surprised. What he is, mostly, is grateful.
He doesn't believe it, even if he knows. Those are two separate feelings, two separate emotions, things he'd never thought about except for the fact that now he's faced with both of them at the same time. He watched her, watched the woman he loved and cared for jump like it was nothing.
It's his fault.
It's his fault, and he can't tell a single soul.
Dom Cobb really did kill his wife, he thinks, even if he had just tried to make her happy. Those papers aren't completely wrong. Mal, in her last ditch effort to 'wake him up,' wasn't wrong. He'd made Mal do this.
The only good thing about--well, any of this--is that he doesn't have time to think. Not really, he doesn't have time to process, either. It feels like a kick, like a splash of water on his face and then 'you have to go' and 'here's a plane ticket.'
He doesn't even get time to see his kids.
He barely sleeps on the plane--he barely sleeps anymore anyway, he can't (he doesn't want to), and when he lands in Frankfurt it seems like a blur. He's exhausted, blinking with dry eyes, brows furrowed together as he realizes all of the people look blurry, like a poor man's projections if such a thing were to exist. All but one.
Cobb immediately makes his way towards him.
"Arthur." It's quiet greeting, soft but firm, laced with so many emotions Cobb can't quite show them all so it comes across as numb, almost bland. His brow settles, if only for a moment.
"Thank you." He didn't expect Arthur to be here, not really, but he can't say he's surprised. What he is, mostly, is grateful.
[ He's wired, anxiety thrumming through every part of his person. No one here knows Cobb or even himself. Well, at least he doesn't think so.
(One day in the future, he'll be better at scanning a crowd and picking out who means trouble. One day, he'll think back to this moment and wonder how they made it out of the airport.)
Cobb comes down the escalator, expression relaxing just a fraction. It's enough to make some of the nervous energy he's been holding onto dispel. He doesn't smile, because who could after what they've been through, but he tips his head in a nod. An acknowledgment. ]
Hey. [ Informal to the last, but only around people he's familiar with. ] Got everything?
[ Being in the recycled air here has made him antsy. Or maybe that's the circumstances at hand. At the quiet thanks, he stares for a second and then shrugs, stuffs his hands in his pockets. ]
Come on— I booked us a room nearby.
(One day in the future, he'll be better at scanning a crowd and picking out who means trouble. One day, he'll think back to this moment and wonder how they made it out of the airport.)
Cobb comes down the escalator, expression relaxing just a fraction. It's enough to make some of the nervous energy he's been holding onto dispel. He doesn't smile, because who could after what they've been through, but he tips his head in a nod. An acknowledgment. ]
Hey. [ Informal to the last, but only around people he's familiar with. ] Got everything?
[ Being in the recycled air here has made him antsy. Or maybe that's the circumstances at hand. At the quiet thanks, he stares for a second and then shrugs, stuffs his hands in his pockets. ]
Come on— I booked us a room nearby.
[ Arthur's 'hey,' soft and polite if informal, does wonders to his nerves. He's not completely soothed--he never will, he thinks, but that wasn't just because of Mal. He's never been fully at ease since they woke up. He's adjusted better, of course--obviously--and that train of thought he forces to shut down right away. ]
Thank you.
[ He appreciates it. Mostly, he appreciates Arthur not talking about it--or anything, really, as he follows the other's direction. Arthur's studious, always prepared, always with an eye for detail, and just before they head into the hotel room he curls a hand around the other's shoulder. He needs to feel something, anything now that he's numb. Something to remind him. A totem, almost.
Once inside and the door safely locked, Cobb sets what little luggage he's packed down and runs a hand through his hair, a habit he's never quite been able to fix. ]
Phillipa and James are being taken care of.
[ Not by him. Not anymore. ]
Thank you.
[ He appreciates it. Mostly, he appreciates Arthur not talking about it--or anything, really, as he follows the other's direction. Arthur's studious, always prepared, always with an eye for detail, and just before they head into the hotel room he curls a hand around the other's shoulder. He needs to feel something, anything now that he's numb. Something to remind him. A totem, almost.
Once inside and the door safely locked, Cobb sets what little luggage he's packed down and runs a hand through his hair, a habit he's never quite been able to fix. ]
Phillipa and James are being taken care of.
[ Not by him. Not anymore. ]
[ It might be testament to his time in the military that he's always himself. Even in times of stress. Or maybe especially in times of stress. There's no use in having a breakdown and losing his shit over something he can't control, even if he's overwhelmed by the urge to shake Dom and ask him why and how.
If he thinks about it too hard, he still might. So he doesn't. Keeps his mind carefully blank and only thinks of the next step. Just breathe, unlock the hotel door, unpack the bags. Cobb sets a hand on his shoulder and nearly knocks his entire not-train of thought off, so he stiffens a little under the touch. But he allows it, doesn't brush him off like he would with a stranger.
Once safely in the room, he sets about unpacking. Toiletries in the bathroom, suit coat on the hangers. He's sliding his favorite jacket on one such hanger when he hears Cobb, talking about James and Philippa. Something about hearing their names tugs at his chest and he resists the urge to start yelling. ]
Yeah. Miles?
If he thinks about it too hard, he still might. So he doesn't. Keeps his mind carefully blank and only thinks of the next step. Just breathe, unlock the hotel door, unpack the bags. Cobb sets a hand on his shoulder and nearly knocks his entire not-train of thought off, so he stiffens a little under the touch. But he allows it, doesn't brush him off like he would with a stranger.
Once safely in the room, he sets about unpacking. Toiletries in the bathroom, suit coat on the hangers. He's sliding his favorite jacket on one such hanger when he hears Cobb, talking about James and Philippa. Something about hearing their names tugs at his chest and he resists the urge to start yelling. ]
Yeah. Miles?
For now.
[ 'for now' is a loaded phrase, peppered with thing among thing among thing. 'For now,' because Cobb's going to get them back and clear his name. 'For now' because Miles might be temporary like everything else is right now. 'For now' is what he uses because he doesn't want to feel more insane than he already is.
Cobb's tired. He imagines Arthur is, too, and his hand dips into his pocket to clasp around the totem. He doesn't spin it, but it gives him some sense of comfort, even if for a fleeting moment.
Arthur unpacks, and Cobb grabs a drink. The two work in silence, comfortable enough around each other, and by the time Arthur's done being meticulous (he finds a soft comfort in that, too), Cobb has a glass of whiskey waiting for him on the table as well. ]
We lay low for a while. Give it a month or two, then look for work.
[ Planning is better than feeling numb. He glances over at his companion. ]
You tell anyone you're with me?
[ He already knows the answer. ]
[ 'for now' is a loaded phrase, peppered with thing among thing among thing. 'For now,' because Cobb's going to get them back and clear his name. 'For now' because Miles might be temporary like everything else is right now. 'For now' is what he uses because he doesn't want to feel more insane than he already is.
Cobb's tired. He imagines Arthur is, too, and his hand dips into his pocket to clasp around the totem. He doesn't spin it, but it gives him some sense of comfort, even if for a fleeting moment.
Arthur unpacks, and Cobb grabs a drink. The two work in silence, comfortable enough around each other, and by the time Arthur's done being meticulous (he finds a soft comfort in that, too), Cobb has a glass of whiskey waiting for him on the table as well. ]
We lay low for a while. Give it a month or two, then look for work.
[ Planning is better than feeling numb. He glances over at his companion. ]
You tell anyone you're with me?
[ He already knows the answer. ]
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