"Ariadne!"

Ariadne hadn't even made it to curbside when she heard someone call her name. Turning, she smiled at the sight of Arthur hurrying towards her, dragging his luggage cart behind him.

"Hi," he grinned. "I, uh… I just wanted to say goodbye."

"Goodbye," she said, leaning in to hug him impulsively. After a minute, they parted and just stared at each other.

"Where will you go?" he asked, crossing his arms. She shrugged, hailing a taxi. "Back to Paris?"

"Probably," she replied, thanking the driver as he threw her bags in the trunk. "I might stay here for a few days, though. I've never been before and I've always wanted to see the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion. What about you? Will you go home?"

"Ma'am, are you ready?" the driver interrupted, tapping the hood. Ariadne signaled one minute to him and then turned back to Arthur.

"Arthur?"

"Can I come with you?" he asked smoothly, no hint of worry that she would say no in his voice. He smiled a tiny smile as her eyebrows narrowed and her mouth thinned. "I've been working for the last six years, I just need to hang out with someone that isn't Cobb."

"Yeah, of course," she responded, surprised.

Ariadne and Arthur climbed into the cab as the driver rearranged their luggage in the trunk to fit. "Where to?" he asked, once he was in.

"The Westin Bonaventura," Arthur replied quickly before Ariadne could answer. The driver nodded.

"And you, ma'am?"

"Uh, the Westin too, I guess."

Pulling away from the airport, Ariadne found herself staring out the window, drawing lines in the sky with her fingers. She was equal parts curious as to why Arthur had come with her and emotionally and mentally exhausted from their plane ride.

Arthur checked his phone, knowing there'd be no messages, and cast a sideways glance at his friend.

"Friend," he thought, mentally sighing. "Is she really?"

Arriving at the Westin Bonaventura, Arthur allowed himself the tiniest pleasure with Ariadne's gasp.

"This is where we're staying?" she asked, her eyes huge. Arthur nodded, paying the cabbie and following the bellhop in.

"Are you coming?" he called back, not waiting for her reply before sidling up to the front desk. "Hi, I have a reservation for six nights. Last name is Pressman, first name Arthur."

Ariadne had caught up to Arthur and come to stand next to him. She felt her ears redden when he told the concierge his last name. How silly that such a little piece of information affected her so much.

"And you, miss? Are you staying with Mr. Pressman?"

"No!" they both replied quickly, laughing awkwardly.

"No, I'll need my own room, six nights also. Ariadne Graham."

A bit of paperwork later, Ariadne, Arthur, the bellhop and their luggage squeezed into an elevator and headed towards their rooms.

"Pressman?" she asked, spooked by the sound of her own voice. Arthur shook his head.

"An alias," he said, his voice low. The bell dinged and they followed the bellhop to Arthur's room. "Thank you, we'll take it from here. No, I'll take her bags," he said, tipping the bellhop and holding the door open with his foot for Ariadne.

The pair hauled their luggage into the room, where Ariadne sat down heavily on the bed, sinking into the plush white comforter as Arthur untied his tie (she couldn't help but smirk a little as he hung it on a hanger) and rolled up his sleeves. He took a seat across from Ariadne and crossed his legs.

"King," he said, after a long minute. She must have looked surprised because he laughed. "My last name is King."

"Is Arthur your real first name?" she asked, turning onto her belly and propping her head up. He nodded.

"Arthur Fredrick, after my father. What about you?"

"Mika is my middle name, for my grandmother. Ariadne was Dionysus' wife and my parents have this thing for Antiquity sculpture and Greek mythology," she shrugged.

"It's beautiful, he said. "Your grandmother's name too."

"She died when I was two," Ariadne said, picking at her sleeve.

"I'm sorry," Arthur said, smiling small. "I know what that's like, losing your family."

"Are your parents gone?" she asked, realizing too late that she was getting very personal. She was relieved when he shook his head no.

"No, but we're estranged. I haven't seen them in ten years."

"Why not?"

"When I left for college, they were already disappointed in my career path because it deviated from their plan. My sister, Chelsea, started college the year before I had and had done exactly what they wanted for her. The further she continued down their path, the more it took me out of the picture completely. The Christmas before I graduated, I didn't get an invitation to come home and after that, I stopped trying."

"I'm so sorry," Ariadne said, sighing. "What did you major in? Surely fact checking for dream scraping wasn't in the curriculum."

"Accounting. After I graduated, I began working for an auditing firm called Kaufman, Pressman and Shale."

"Ah, so that's where Mr. Pressman comes from, I take it?"

"Yeah, my boss and truly good man. I spent five years traveling around the world until Cobb found me auditing a restaurant chain in Topeka. He sat down at my table, told me my own life's story and then gave me a name on a piece of paper and twenty four hours to find out everything I could about him," Arthur said. He had kicked his shoes off while he was talking and was working on unbuttoning his vest. "Are you hungry?"

"No," she answered quickly, hoping she didn't sound too eager. She found him fascinating and was almost desperate to glean enough information to form a personal connection.

"Okay. The man he had me research, the things I found out about him? They made me sick. When Cobb came back the next day, I gave him everything I knew and told him I wasn't interested."

"Who was the man?"

"It was Eames. Cobb told me I didn't have a choice in the matter and that fulfilling his test had as well as signed a contract. Knowing what I knew at that point, I was a liability if I wasn't on his team. The next week, we flew to Monaco for our first job. Needless to say, I was less than thrilled when we walked into the casino and right up to Eames."

"What was so bad about him?" Ariadne asked, knowing she was starting to push her luck. Arthur shook his head and pushed his fingers to his temples.

"I didn't understand it at the time, but I thought he had ruined someone's life, a woman he knew named Gabrielle. It turned out that it was a job hazard Cobb hadn't informed me of, that it was part of Eames' gift. He is a forger, one of the best out there. He can do documents, money, Passports and, as you know, people. He got that gift from Gabrielle."

"How?"

"You're very inquisitive. Has anybody ever told you that?" He was smiling but Ariadne could sense he was uncomfortable. She started to apologize when he continued. "Gabrielle was Eames' best friend, his lover we all thought, but no one knows for sure. They worked as a pair and one day, they went under together and she never came back."

"She's dead?" Ariadne gasped, a lump forming in her throat. "Like Mal?"

"No," Arthur replied, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward. "She's a vegetable. She lives hooked up to machines in Bali because she stayed in Eames' mind too long. They couldn't separate their dreams from reality anymore and, in the end, their subconsciouses melded. He uses her as a gambit now, the same way that Cobb uses Mr. Charles. She was in my dream, the blonde woman we saw crossing the lobby."

Ariadne rolled over onto her back and shut her eyes, trying her hardest to process all of the information she was getting. Opening them again, she focused on Arthur, who was now upside down in her vision. She smiled.

"How old are you, Arthur? 25?" She blushed when he laughed, afraid she had aged him.

"That's flattering. Actually, I'm 29."

"Oh. Well, you look good."

"Thanks, you too," he replied, reaching for the room service menu. He realized that was a weird return, considering he had no reason to compliment her. "Uh, you know, for 25."

Ariadne's mouth dropped open. "What? I'm 22!" she screeched, chucking a pillow at him. He dodged playfully. "Hey, wait a second. You knew that! You had to have, you know everything about everyone!"

"Maybe," he sing-songed, ducking as she threw another pillow him. "Careful, you might break something." He was ill prepared for her next move, as she dove off the bed, knocking him to the ground. She straddled him and began to pummel him with a pillow.

Laughing, Arthur covered his head and groped for a pillow, eventually finding it leaning against the wall. He began to fight back, much more gently than she was, at least at first. After a minute, he wrapped his arms around her waist, stood up and threw her on the bed. He was sure their neighbors would call the front desk, considering that they were currently making an ungodly amount of noise.

The moment he stopped to ponder was all it took for her blindside him. The pillow collided with his face and, out of surprise, he grabbed her wrists and pinned her to the bed, his knees on either side of her. Her cheeks were tinged pink and her hair crazy. He leaned down, their chests both heaving, and just as he was about to kiss her, she turned her head and grabbed the menu from the bedside table.

"So, how about dinner?"