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 nodded. Mombasa was the perfect place for a man like Eames to blend in and live as he wanted. He had plenty of room to run and not be intercepted by humans unless a certain nosy point man followed him. He couldn't find any fault in that. "Plenty of room," Arthur agreed and picked up his glass and took a drink from it, looking at the man across from him.

"Yes, plenty of room too," Eames said dryly, watching Arthur as he drank. The point man had had two glasses and was nursing his third, but the speed of the first two would surely catch up to him.

He took a sip of his drink, contemplating.

If you had asked Arthur which drink he was on, he'd probably say somewhere around the fourth or fifth. Specifically the fourth but he didn't necessarily care either. He knew it would catch up to him soon enough, you didn't drink that much alcohol, that fast with hardly any food in your stomach and not have it affect you. He gave Eames a grin. He was really starting to feel loose and at ease - nursing this one had been a good idea. A very good idea. He felt really good.

"You stopped drinking," he asked, arching an eyebrow as though he was only now realizing that Eames had switched to beer. It showed just how much he had been paying attention to the preceding events.

"Just slowed down," Eames said, raising his glass slightly. "Haven't had a good pint in a while. Still haven't, in fact," he said wryly of the drink.

The grin on Arthur's face wasn't terribly surprising, but it was nice, in a way, to see it directed at himself.

Arthur chuckled and rested an elbow on the table, looking at him. "What, isn't up to your standards?" His tone was mostly teasing though. He couldn't find it in himself, after three drinks, to really pack much heat behind his words. Not that he wanted to but still, it was something that they were known to do in their relationship/friendship.

"Your American piss? No, it isn't," Eames sniffed, looking at Arthur from down his nose but amused by the whole situation - amused at teasing Arthur, at watching him rest on the table and smile like that.

"It's a hotel bar, they have imports where you can probably get your fancy special brews," Arthur said, not able to hold back his laugh. He was, surprisingly, enjoying himself - whether that had more to do with the alcohol or the company was anyone's guess.

"You think that's the real stuff, flown or shipped over?" Eames smirked, taking another sip of his drink and chasing the taste on his lips. He didn't hate the drink so much as he was pretending, enjoying how Arthur reacted to him.

"Course it isn't," Arthur said, shaking his head with a grin. He'd had plenty of beer in lots of places and there wasn't anything like having it on tap. He noticed the way Eames' lips, and they were really nice lips, twisted up into that smirk and the way his tongue darted out to lick at his lips. Arthur perhaps looked a little too long before he picked up his glass and took a sip from it. "You know," he said after setting the glass down. "I probably should have eaten a little bit before I started to drink." He was grinning as he said it though as though, at this exact moment in time, Arthur had no regrets about his decisions. And he didn't. Not really anyway.

"Well," Eames drawled, lips curving up in a plush smile, "I can always buy you a dinner and hope the effects even out," He offered with a tight grin, all teeth on display for Arthur.

"At this point -- it probably won't," Arthur chuckled and sat back heavily against the back of the booth and looked at Eames with a tilt of his head. "Though food wouldn't go unwanted." To be honest, he probably hadn't eaten since earlier they had boarded the airplane for Los Angeles.

"Have you eaten? 'Cause I think we should eat."

"Should we," Eames murmurs. "I wonder what the fare is like at the bar. They advertised a full restaurant, after all," Eames wonders aloud.

"Your typical bar food is my assumption," Arthur said and looked around to see if he could grab a menu from a nearby table or anything. It was only going on early evening so grabbing a bite to eat wouldn't be out of the question. At this point, he hardly cared if it was good or not. Just if it was something to counter the alcohol. "Our friend the bartender probably has a menu or two."

There was a little stack of menus the next table over, but Eames stood to retrieve it, being of a soundly more steady mind.

"Let's not bother him again quite yet, hm?" He said as he returned, handing one to Arthur. The fare was short, but simple, and came in full meals if desired.

Arthur watched as Eames got up and retrieved a couple of menus. He grinned and looked over the menu. "What - think we've kept him too busy?" And by 'we' he meant more specifically himself.

He read over the menu, resting lazily against the back of the booth with a tilt of his head. "Hm, burgers. Burgers sound good." It would be greasy and perfect for the mood he was in. "Mushroom swiss burger." Arthur nodded and looked up to glance at Eames. "What'a'bout you?"

"Steak and salad," Eames said smoothly, closing the menu with a glint in his eyes. "I think you've kept him plenty busy as well."

Arthur shrugged a shoulder, not normally a typical Arthur-esque move but the alcohol was loosening him up enough where he didn't care. He picked up his glass and took a sip from it, giving Eames a devil-may care look. "It's good scotch," he said, by way of explanation before setting the glass down again. As far as excuses and explanations went, it was lackluster at best but he wasn't worried about it.

Eames smirked at that, licking his own lips gently. He stood. "Shall I order for you, my pet?"

Arthur definitely did not look at Eames' lips. He frowned and looked at the standing forger. "I'm not your pet," he said sounding a indignant. Or as indignant as Arthur can sound after having a few glasses of scotch on little to no food. "I can order for myself," he said and stood. He remained standing for a few minutes before he sat back down heavily -- sitting was good.

"I take it that was a yes?" Eames asked, drumming his fingers on the table with an amused look.

He frowned and looked at the man standing there with the amused look. "Fine, yes - you can order for me." Arthur paused then continued, "thank you," because he wasn't completely unthankful.

Eames moved away to order the food, then came back to Arthur.

"Really, you're welcome, though you acted as if I sullied your honor."

Arthur felt heat spread up his neck in embarrassment, though he was hardly to acknowledge it. "I just -- I'm used to doing things for myself," he said by way of explanation. Though ordering for him wasn't exactly that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things and Arthur knew that. He held his glass close but didn't take another drink yet.

"Yes, but you're fabulously drunk, so you should let me do that for you," Eames said, rolling his eyes just slightly.

Things were almost starting to feel, well, normal to the wolf.

"I am fabulously drunk," Arthur agreed and couldn't help the bright grin that spread over his lips. "Let me tell ya - it's been a long time since I've had more than one or three drinks." He brought the glass up to his lips and took a sip from it.

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