Perception (Inception, Eames/Arthur)

He runs into Eames again in a dive bar about half a mile from the hotel they’re staying at, the night before their third con together. Eames has changed little in the year since he’d first met him – still far more suave than any man has a right to be, still cocky, still capable of getting under Arthur’s skin and making him reevaluate all he thought was true. Arthur’s seated at a table near the back of the bar, away from most of the crowd. It’s hardly quiet, but it’s the closest thing to private he can find. He sees Eames walk in, tries to pretend he doesn’t notice Eames noticing him, and debates escaping into the bathroom when Eames heads his way. Leaving, however, would mean giving up his table and he’s not prepared to do that just yet.

“Really, darling, couldn’t you have picked a better establishment? It’s like it’s your first time in Paris.”

Too many responses spring to mind, it’s hard to pick just one. He goes with the most pressing, and prioritizes from there. “I told you not to call me that. I didn’t ask you to join me, and it is my first time in Paris.”

Eames tskes at him, but takes a seat at the opposite end of the table. He produces a pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket of his jacket and meets Arthur’s eyes. “Do you mind?”

Arthur hardly sees the harm in a little more smoke added to the already foggy bar. He could say no just to make Eames go away but that would be childish and he’s hoping to avoid sinking to that level. “No. It’s fine.”