Brazilian Waxing Aroused Drabbles: Inception | Arthur / Eames

s to the floor, and even when stooping to pick them up, does not seem to stop looking. Yusuf coughs and laughs shamelessly new exhaust, but when Eames has been turned, curious, Arthur orders the leaves on the wood surface with total usual indifference.
- Good day, dear. Terrible weather, is not it? - Greets Eames, suspiciously, so focused on Yusuf and Porter, who does not realize that Arthur answers your immediate greeting automatically.
*

IV. Patience.
Arthur sits next to him at the bar. Eames gives a sidelong glance that Arthur does not match, ask the waiter held a German beer nameslong and pompous. Eames is drinking scotch. Much scotch. - My patience, love - health - is not infinite. And not trying to say that, not now, maybe never. Not because it is not true, but by the tacit agreement to not talk about it, what is between them. Spent several years definitely not so. Arthur Eames takes his wrist and wait, Christ, fuck, blow, sarcasm, condescension suffocating in sentences: rejection in any of the usual ways. To his utter surprise, Arthur expression softened (but not his tone, his tone never, thank God). - And in this state wanted to get to your hotel?
- I came home in worse conditions -shrugs. Arthur
presses her lips. Ah, here it comes. - Let me drink something and go.
... or not.

- Do we? - Eames is straightened, feeling at once all the alcohol consumed. Arthur released his wrist, to put a hand on his back.
And smile.
- You're not the only one who has been waiting for, Eames.
Eames opens his mouth, but the close, almost a minute later when he realizes he has no answer for that, except, of course, kissing Arthur with one hand tangled in her hair and the other tucked into his pocket, holding his totem. *