originallutece | (no subject)

That's fine.

[She lifts up, stepping behind him, wandering over to his other side.]

I, myself, happen to be a very selfish woman. And yet somehow, I don't find myself playing kitchen maid for others on a whim.

So. What do you get out of this?

You get food, I get company. Is that so difficult to swallow?

[ There's also the fact he might be avoiding someone. And well, he hasn't seen Rosalind in a little while. He was perhaps, a bit worried about her.

His hands don't shake, though, as he pulls down mugs and pours tea for the both of them. ]

Yes.

[But it's not a mark against his character. More of an indication on how suspicious she really is. Or unused to friendship, maybe. But the tea smells good, and the dinner even more so, so she takes a mug and wraps her fingers tight around it.]

But. I will admit. Being in this place can breed . . . familiarity, I suppose.

I will admit my –self– can make things seem rather disingenuous, so I can't fault you there.

[ His personality is polarizing. Either people buy into the charm or they're constantly trying to see past it. Always prying at the edges to see what's underneath.

Somehow, he always gets drawn in by the latter. ]

The word you're looking for is friendship. Or perhaps companionship? It happens between humans sometimes.

Yes, thank you, the sarcasm isn't necessary. My point was that this city, for all it's hideous, does bring out certain resilient bonds, beyond a casual companionship.

Mm, probably has something to do with the trauma. Or maybe most of us are normally not the type to remain in one spot, so when forced...

[ He makes a vague gesture, as if to say this is what we get.

Right after, the oven beeps to let him know it's reached a specific temperature– almost like an underscore to his point. A short flurry of motion sees the fish set in the oven, a timer set, and the pots stirred. ]

Alternatively, all the fucking might be the cause of lasting bonds.

[Another small noise, which indicates she might have just smothered the urge to laugh.]

Why can't it be both? Though admittedly, my working thesis was more towards the former than the latter.

Honestly, it's a pity: I'm sure a psychologist would have a field day in a city like this. Can you imagine? The Freudians alone . . .

Knowing people, I'd be leaning towards the latter.

[ Physicality goes a long way to making things feel important. Feel as if they matter.

Maybe he's just jaded. ]

Not exactly into the psychology field, then? The Freudians would have much to say, though I doubt any of it would be particularly valid.

He was the basis of a great deal of psychology, Eames. Regardless of whether his theories were later disproved or not, he had a great deal to say. Especially on sex.

. . . mostly on sex.

I'm familiar with him. They were still disproved, is the point.

[ Because they were nonsense. ] Besides, I don't want to listen to what a dusty quack has to say about sex. Why listen when you can get a hands on experience?

[She glances over at him, her eyes cool. Not repulsed, not at all, but she doesn't impress easily.]

Is that an offer?

Only if you want it to be. Personal philosophy, otherwise.

[ He's fine leaving it at that. But if she's interested– well, he can't claim that he'd ignore it. She's got a fiery personality, something he's always had a difficult time staying away from. ]

[She looks up at him for a few seconds, searching his face, contemplative.]

. . . yes, I think I'd be amiable to that. After dinner, though, don't stray from the more important task.

Darling, I'm not going to let the fish burn.

[ Please, he went through all this effort, the least they can do is actually eat it. ] Go on, relax, this'll be done in a few.

I'm not your darling.

[She says it tartly, going to take a seat, crossing one leg over the other. Her eyes are a little darker now, taking him in as a prospective partner, not just as a friend.]

So? Anything I ought to know before I lead you to my bed?

No, I suppose you aren't.

[ Oh, that's an odd realization. He's been using it as a part of speech, an affectation for so long; now he attributes a person to the pet name.

(And it isn't Rosalind). ]

Mm, I'm very good with my hands. [ After all, that's part of what being a thief is all about. The timer goes off and he sets off taking the food out of the oven, turning off burners, and pulling down the plates once he figures out which cabinet they're in. Within a few moments, it's set out on the table. Nothing too fancy, but certainly a step up from the usual fare. ]

Anything I should know?

If you hit me, I'll throw you off the building.

[It's said cheerfully, but she's absolutely serious.]

Beyond that . . . I'll be certain to tell you if you do something I don't like.

[With that said: she settles in, smiling faintly at the dinner. It's well done, she has to admit, and she nods in thanks.]

. . . I appreciate this, though. It was kind of you.

The only reason I've hit women is if they were trying to kill me.

[ Then all bets are off, honestly. At that point, he doesn't care who's holding the gun, just the fact that they're holding a gun. ]

Although, there was this broad who liked to get spanked. [ Ah, memories. ] At any rate, I'm sure you'd be righteous if you felt the need to throw me physically off a building.

[ Really, he'd deserve it. ] It's no matter. We both get something out of it, yeah?

I wasn't-- that wasn't the type of hitting I mean.

[Spanking, she means, but moving on. Except there's really nowhere to go beyond thank you again, so--]

I assume things are going well you and your Submissive?

Not into spanking?

[ It's not for everyone. And of course this is the kind of conversation he's perfectly okay having at the dinner table. Naturally. ]

Depends on what you consider "well". I doubt the city would look on our particular arrangement as the peak. [ They're both too willful for that. Arthur because he's stubborn and doesn't take anything lying down. Eames because, well, he's perfectly fine with that type of chaos. With someone who can't and won't be controlled. ]

[She is, actually, into it, and she is also into not discussing such things at dinner, no matter how red her ears have turned.]

What color is his mark?

[ Oh, maybe he's hit a mark. Or perhaps she's easily embarrassed. ]

Pale pink. [ Clearly not ideal. He takes a steady sip of his tea, trying to keep his frustration with the matter under wraps. ]

Good lord. I'm surprised you could afford the fish. That's a bit more than middling.

I've never believed in keeping all my funds in one spot. And we're ah, working on it. As much as I'm loathe to curtail his behavior in any way.

[ Those headstrong qualities are one of the reasons he liked him to begin with. ] It's a bit of a process. Though thankfully, we've had quite the experience in dodging authorities in the past, so this is just testing some slightly rusty skills.

For a thief, you're really quite upfront about it. Aren't you supposed to be secretive? Or is that just in the films?

I know you aren't stupid enough to think that telling me is harmless.