“You don’t have to be left imagining, of course.” He leaves what he delivers as a serious statement hanging there for a moment as he tries to contain the coy smile that’s threatening to escape. “There happens to be an old uniform collecting dust at the back of my closet. You could always take a look and make a committed decision.” Arthur, sadly, doesn’t possess the ability to read minds, but if he did he would swear that Bela’s mind joins his in the gutter more often than not.
Arthur understands the logic of working alone, but he’s never really been one to practice it. “Doesn’t it get lonely, though?” He might not always be the most sociable of people, but, he thinks, that he would miss having a sense of family around him if he were to always work alone. “And if things go wrong, how do you manage without back-up?” If he comes across as being blunt, he doesn’t mean to be, but as someone who likes to understand things asking questions is second nature.
“Interesting, yes, but it’s an incredibly rare talent to possess. He explained the basic process of it to me once, but unless you find it easy to disconnect yourself from your own mind it’s impossible to do.” Arthur laughs. “And aiming to be anything remotely like Eames isn’t healthy for anyone.”
“Well, maybe not everywhere, but near enough.” He nudges her shoulder with his own, chuckling softly, and breathes in deeply, the fresh air and pleasant scent of flowers soothing. One day he’ll have to take Bela on a picnic, he thinks, and make do with the less refreshing air that reality offers.
Arthur isn’t always quick on the uptake when it comes to people and emotions, but he can see the glint of something within the depths of Bela’s eyes, something that he suspects might be fear, but the sadness that lies there is hard to miss. He doesn’t want to trespass, to touch on painful subjects unless she chooses to, so he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he offers a sad smile of understanding and carefully brushes back the loose strands of hair from her face, gently cupping her cheek and brushing the pad of his thumb against the soft skin.
God, ikr? That man could wear a bin bag and make it look sexy.
Arthur understands the logic of working alone, but he’s never really been one to practice it. “Doesn’t it get lonely, though?” He might not always be the most sociable of people, but, he thinks, that he would miss having a sense of family around him if he were to always work alone. “And if things go wrong, how do you manage without back-up?” If he comes across as being blunt, he doesn’t mean to be, but as someone who likes to understand things asking questions is second nature.
“Interesting, yes, but it’s an incredibly rare talent to possess. He explained the basic process of it to me once, but unless you find it easy to disconnect yourself from your own mind it’s impossible to do.” Arthur laughs. “And aiming to be anything remotely like Eames isn’t healthy for anyone.”
“Well, maybe not everywhere, but near enough.” He nudges her shoulder with his own, chuckling softly, and breathes in deeply, the fresh air and pleasant scent of flowers soothing. One day he’ll have to take Bela on a picnic, he thinks, and make do with the less refreshing air that reality offers.
Arthur isn’t always quick on the uptake when it comes to people and emotions, but he can see the glint of something within the depths of Bela’s eyes, something that he suspects might be fear, but the sadness that lies there is hard to miss. He doesn’t want to trespass, to touch on painful subjects unless she chooses to, so he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he offers a sad smile of understanding and carefully brushes back the loose strands of hair from her face, gently cupping her cheek and brushing the pad of his thumb against the soft skin.