loadedparadox

For: eamesofdreams
What: Playing poolside
Warning: Adult themes and for mature audiences only.

( What happens in Vegas... )

Texts sent to dreamsofmazes and eamesofdreams


Arranged things in Las Vegas. We leave this weekend. Arranged for the animals transport there and Greece. Are we set?



((ooc: Either respond by seeking him out or by text.))

Arthur was nearly asleep, Ariadne tucked in snugly against him, when he remembered that they had left a mess in the kitchen. Another man might have left it, left the eggs to congeal and the cat to get into the flour but Arthur couldn't bring himself to do it. Not just because they had a roommate but because he couldn't let himself leave that mess.


Carefully untangling himself from that sweet, gorgeous perfect form, he tucked the blanket in around Ariadne and waited a moment to be sure she was asleep. Certain, he grabbed his boxers and slid into them. His robe was in his own room and, for a moment, it would be fine. Just run out, clean up and then crawl back into bed with Ariadne and ponder what he could do to wake her up in the morning.

Running a hand over the stubble on his chin, bleary eyed and pleasantly worn, Arthur made his way to the kitchen, not thinking about the fact that their third may well have made his way home.

It was like a dream collapsing around you after the dreamer woke up. It was all falling apart before Arthur had ever really had a chance to know what he had. He hadn't wanted to leave Ariadne, holding that petite form to his with a hope that it would just all go away. Except it wouldn't and she was right. She deserved to know everything, to make an informed decision. Deep down he knew it was all hers to make. It always had been.

He cheated in tracking down Eames. An hour earlier and he'd have looked in every bar and hole in the wall dive near the warehouse. Instead he used the GPS in Eames' phone, figuring the other man hadn't known Arthur had turned it on one day after realizing just how close Eames and Ariadne were. He had to look out for her, now, then, always.

In the time between leaving her place and arriving at the bar, he had pulled himself together. Pushing open the door, standing there lit by pulsating neon and dim behind the bar lights, Arthur wasn't thinking of the image he presented. Stony face with his jaw tight and dark eyes narrowed, his suit impeccable and probably costing more than the cars some of the people drove. He didn't care about anything but tracking down Eames and doing what he'd promised. Finding out just where things stood.

And if he got angry enough over the replaying image in his head - the one of Eames smiling as he shot himself - then he had no qualms about settling this with a hard right other than words.