specification | Where do we go from here?

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Where do we go from here? - for ingeniously

The job was done.

Inception was done and fuck -- from what he could tell, it had gone successfully.

So far.

Cobb had gone through customs with not so much as a blink and left with his father-in-law to his kids. Fischer Jr had left a little after that and Ariadne was heading back to Paris to return to her classes and studies. Arthur loaded the PASIV onto his luggage cart and looked around, spotting Eames standing near a pillar.

Throughout the planning stages of the job, they had been snarky, condescending (to a certain degree), and on just this side of antagonistic. It was after he found out that there was a very real possibility that they could be shot down to limbo that Arthur mentally backtracked for a split second and thought about Eames -- thought about that night and thought about what they haven't discussed yet. When Eames called him 'darling' down in the first level in what he was sure was a condescending manner, Arthur found himself wanting to say something. But, he didn't. Eames was striding away after he took his shot.

When they were on the second level and everyone was hooking themselves in, who he should have helped was Ariadne but Arthur found himself kneeling down next to Eames and helping him with his lead, giving him a quirk of his lips. Everything could be shot to hell in a matter of seconds/minutes/hours and he could feel himself wanting that lasting touch, just in case.

They couldn't risk talking in public no matter if Robert and Cobb had gone, still -- he felt ready to talk to the other man about what happened months ago. About where this left them -- if it left them anywhere.

Eames had mated with him. Well...to be fair, his wolf had mated with him and that meant something according to his research. Something that couldn't exactly be ignored. As he made his way out of the airport with his luggage, Arthur pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to Eames.

If you're not heading anywhere quick, meet me at the Renaissance hotel nearby? We can talk.

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Arthur rested his arms on the table and looked down into his lap for a minute before looking across the table at Eames. "Think I'll take a little time off -- at least a couple of weeks. Go back home for a little while, relax and remember what it was like before it all." Before being on the run with Cobb. Before Mallorie took her life.

"What about yourself? Returning to Mombasa?"

"You have been working hard, especially on this last job." Eames didn't begrudge Arthur missing the militarization. Overworked, surely underpaid, and wanting to help Dom, it would have been easy to miss the signs.

"Well. I could, but Dom and Cobol have probably made it less than welcoming for me. Off to another city with wide open spaces nearby," he waved a hand.

"Apparently not hard enough," he said. Funny thing was, Arthur didn't hear any grudge in Eames' voice for missing a valuable piece of information. It was done and over with now, of course but it still could have saved them a headache.

He nodded. "There's plenty of wide open spaces in the US," Arthur sent him a small smile. "Hear Montana and Wyoming are good for that." He was teasing of course - he couldn't exactly see Eames staying in places like Montana or Wyoming but the forger did enjoy being contrary at times.

"Sounds like my line," Eames said, the corner of his mouth curving up. Then he gave a dramatic sigh, rubbing his fingers across his forehead.

"Can you really see me in Midwestern America, Arthur? Honestly? No, I'll have to find somewhere else I can go."

Arthur's lips curled up as he shrugged a shoulder. "Now it's mine," he said and took hold of his glass again, turning it around on the table.

"No, I can't see you in midwestern America," Arthur admitted with a chuckle. "I'd have no doubt you'd go nuts in a place like that." He nodded silently. "You'll find a place. Probably some place just as hot as Kenya."

"I could probably get away in Australia. Tourists would chalk me up to local wildlife. Locals too, maybe," He mused, taking a sip of his drink and then setting it down heavily. "Not sure if I'm willing to risk the rattlers though."

"You could," he nodded. "Or Morocco. I could see you in a place like Casablanca," Arthur mused with a small grin. It was still in Africa but on the other side of the continent, so at least there was that.

"Or you could go north - Poland, Germany or Norway."

"Too cold. There's a reason I no longer live in England," Eames pointed out, leaning back against his seat. This was small talk, of course, nothing of real importance. But it was better than pissing Arthur off at the moment.

"I'll just have to figure something out once I choose where I'm flying. I have a week or two."

Arthur nodded. He could understand that. "Staying around for a while then," he asked merely out of curiosity than anything else. It was unimportant small talk but it was a little better than being at odds with the forger. Arthur planned to only stay in LA for the next few days to make sure that they were paid what Saito promised them (other than Cobb's freedom of course) and that Cobb was properly settled in with his kids before heading back to New York where he could relax a little bit before the next job.

"No, not here," He said, shaking his head. "A day or two, maybe, then off somewhere else to relax while I set up my next itinerary. Don't want to set off any red flags," he said wryly.

"No, wouldn't want that," Arthur agreed with a wry smile. "Only staying here a couple of days myself then I'm off." He might have already said that before but by this point, it didn't matter. Arthur finished off his drink and turned the glass around on the table. He looked over and motioned for a refill of his drink before he leaned back into his seat. The job was complete and he didn't have to babysit Cobb any longer - that in itself was a call for celebration if you asked him.

"Where are you off to? Another job?" Eames queried, just turning his glass around as Arthur's was refilled. He didn't need another just yet, oh no.

Arthur nodded to the bartender and watched him go before returning his gaze to Eames'. "New York - have a place there. Figure it'll be good to go back for a little bit," he said with a shrug, bringing the glass closer to him.

"New York. Why doesn't that surprise me?" Eames asked with a slight smirk, leaning on his free hand as he looked at Arthur with a slight smirk.

"Because I look and act like a New Yorker," Arthur asked with a small smirk of his own. He picked up the glass and took another sip from it before setting it back down. He licked at his bottom lip and leaned back in his seat, looking over at Eames.

"No, no, it's not quite that. Sorry to say, you're as snoopy as one but not nearly as rude," Eames said, keeping the smirk on his face as he looked at Arthur. He took another sip of the scotch.

He had to be careful how much he drank. While he was a little hardier than he had been, it still wouldn't do to get intoxicated. Who knew how he would act now, as a werewolf.

At any other time, Arthur might have been a little offended by that but he chuckled. "At least I have something going for me," he said with a smirk. Arthur wasn't being nearly as careful about how much he drank. He didn't have far to go and there wasn't any work to be done so as far as he saw it, if he wanted to drink a little too much, he well and truly deserved to. Tomorrow he would wake up with a headache and regret it but that was tomorrow.

"Indeed," Eames said, settling back against the booth easily and rubbing his fingers over his forehead - no headache, just a movement to keep himself moving. The wolf made him restless.

"So is that where you're from then, New York? I've never heard an accent," he accused teasingly.

Arthur watched him rub at his forehead. He had noticed over the course of the job how Eames would always try to keep his hands busy doing something whether it was rolling over his poker chip or bouncing his knee. Arthur didn't comment on it though. Arthur was similar in some ways. It was why he kept his chair tilted back on two legs or he would fiddle with his pen or pencil as he thought about whatever was on his mind.

He nodded before he chuckled. "Born and grew up in the city. Hm, here I thought everyone would have an accent to you," Arthur couldn't help but quip in return, good natured. Arthur took a sip from his drink then swirled the liquid around in the glass.

"You do. But you have different accents, and yours," Eames points, "Is not New York. More Californian than anything," he accused, crossing his arms on the table - fabric of his shirt bunching around his shoulders as he did so.

"Maybe that's my intention," Arthur said, sending him a wink. His gaze flicked toward the man's shoulders and arms before tearing his gaze away. "Haven't stayed there for any length of time in years. Over time, accents can start to fade." At least, that seemed to be the case with him.

"That they will. For all you know, I'm not actually british," Eames said, leaning forward slightly on his arms. He had caught that gaze, but didn't say anything about it for the moment.

Arthur's eyebrows rose a little bit but he nodded in agreement. "Exactly," he said, slouching a little in his seat, watching Eames. "It does beg the question on whether or not you are actually British," he allowed his lips to curl up into a smirk, half way teasing and half way serious.

"It does, doesn't it?" Eames said with a little smirk, not planning on revealing the information either way to the point man. "I guess it's a mystery."

He just watched him for a long moment before chuckling. "I guess it is," he mused. Arthur hadn't expected Eames to come out and say whether or not he was from Britain and either way it didn't matter. If Arthur truly wanted to know, he could probably find something that pointed to whether or not he was.

He picked up his glass and took another sip from it.

LOL! Nah -- he wouldn't -- not yet!

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