Works just like I said. [Super cavalier as he follows, jumping down after Poe.] We go in, confirm, get a rough idea how many troops we're looking at. Get out by dinner.
She picked that out pretty quickly. Eames nods approvingly, "that's your subconscious-- it'll fill in with a general feeling than anything precise."
He gestures broadly as he speaks — flowing hand movements to illustrate the subconscious and more rigid ones for the other — and when he continues, he opens his jacket he gestures to the silk lining, "building a dream is a different animal, consciously making those choices is something you'll learn."
Nancy frowns in deep thought. "Alright. Pinterest in your mind, kind of. But with... a whole world, I suppose." It was interesting, and incredibly complicated, but for her, relating it to something she knew was making it just a bit easier.
Well that's a way to think about it, sure. Eames doesn't comment, either way. Instead he leads the rest of the way up the path to a set of french doors framed by lattice fencing and flowering ivy, and slides them open.
On the other side is a little paved area with a small table and seats that overlook a hills and fields. It's a beautiful scene, vaguely European with an early afternoon sun.
"So, first step--" He walks over to the table and pulls a chair out for Nancy, "I'm just going to try a few things to get a feel for your aptitude."
The doors seem so perfect in the vineyard, like they'd always been there. She steps through them wordlessly, admiring the new view in front of her. With a nod of appreciation towards Eames, she glides into her chair, crossing her legs at the knees, and leaning forward.
"Alright- hold on." She closes her eyes for a moment and screws up her nose. This is a dream. She can imagine whatever she wants. When she opens her eyes, there's a bottle of rare gin on the table and a martini glass. Absolutely perfect. And time to see if you can drink in a dream.
[ And who is Charles to try to fight Arthur on this? What is it they say about an old dog and new tricks, right? Though Charles thinks Arthur is more malleable, more susceptible to change than maybe Arthur thinks he's capable of, the way he acts about perceived vulnerability can't be easily budged.
He knows that, which is why he ends up hunkered over a warm beer in a booth in the corner instead of picking Arthur up. Glances up when the harsh overhead light is blocked by the shadow of a hat.
A crooked smile turns at the corner of his mouth. ]
There he is.
remind me to tell you about the "oops not dead" au when it's not nearly 6am
[ Arthur's never been good with needing help, needing to be taken care of. If he can get by without it, he will unless he's harangued into sitting down and accepting it. Grimshaw had been a game changer in that way; Hosea and Dutch really did struggle to get him to accept what he saw as shortcomings. ]
[ Which is to say, he is absolutely worse for wear when he turns up. And yeah he'll probably be fine after some rest, but really. He's got a bruise on his chin, blood on his shirt, and when he sits across from Charles it's with a pained groan that he refuses to acknowledge. ]
Told you I'd make it just fine.
[ Yeah, he doesn't sound great either. ]
this is very late 😢 would LOVE to hear about oops not dead au (that is actually canon)
[ In the grand scheme of things, Charles has never had anyone to worry about. Subsequently, this also means Charles has never had anyone to worry about himself in return, but he's spent the large majority of his life alone. Getting in with Dutch, with Arthur, with all of the family therein - it's been strange. He's done things out of opportunity, but whatever he has with Arthur and John, it's not just that.
He's not the best at showing he cares, but he does try. He thinks he's getting better, anyway. It's easy with Arthur. He pushes the unopened beer he'd ordered for Arthur toward him, raises his own opened bottle. ]
I can't imagine what the other guy looks like.
pff i have friends who've waited months for me before you're good (and i will pm you)
[ Arthur raised the bottle in a gesture of thanks before he opened it, a soft, slightly labored chuckle coming out of him. ]
Ah, I reckon the undertaker's makin' him look real pretty right about now.
[ And that was that to Arthur. He knows he's gonna need time to recover fully, but if he can still walk and talk then it's no big deal. It's nothing worth making a fuss about-- he's nothing worth making a fuss about. Arthur has no choice but to be okay, so ultimately he will be. ]
[ He reclines in his seat, hand holding his side where it hurts when he moves and smile warm when he looks at the man across from him. ]
You really ain't gotta worry about me, Charles.
[ Not that he doesn't appreciate it, even if it confuses the hell out of him. ]
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