A/N: First of all, to my general readers I apologise for a lack of my Doctor Who Highwayman story; I seem to have run dry on the topic and been rather busy of late, but I do intend to get back to it eventually so keep an eye out! Now this story, this tale, is based around an idea myself and two friends had (one being fellow FanFiction member 'Loyal Browncoat') in which we in fact roleplayed on a forum I owned. We were massive Inception fans the moment we'd all seen the film and couldn't let it end like it did without a sequel so we kind of… continued it. Like a lot of you readers and writers have, in fact! Now forgive me if the flow doesn't quite fit; as I said this originated from a roleplay and adapting it from three different writers into one singular story can get quite difficult at time but I do my best. The story itself is self-explanatory so please, enjoy! Any comments/criticisms which would help my adaption from roleplay to fiction would be grateful too!
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters within Inception – that's Chris Nolan's role – but I damn well like using them.
Pressing the disconnect button on his mobile, Arthur leant back against his chair and merely regarded the wall opposite in silent contemplation for a minute, several thoughts systematically working their way through his mind in order. The prospect of another job, a decently paid one with room for independent organisation, not merely as a hired hand, was always welcome and the prospect of only twenty hours to assemble a team only energised him more.
Dialling first Eames, Arthur didn't know whether to blame the receipt of an answer phone on an international time difference or the forger's social life but left a simple message anyway.
"New job in the works, well paid, you've got five hours to get back to me"
Looking at his phone for a moment too long, Arthur pursued his lips before choosing the next number, knowing the time difference would be to blame now for any lack of reply. As another answering message rang out, this one very different from the last, Arthur likewise left a different message.
"Ariadne, it's the point man. There's another assignment if you want it. Speak to Miles today."
Disconnecting the last call, Arthur pocketed his phone, mentally reminding himself to dump it the next day and reached for his laptop, booking flights…
Eyes snapping open, it took Eames a fraction of a second to assess where he was. The ceiling didn't belong to his current hotel, and the four posters along with their white velvet drapes definitely weren't part of his current décor. Looking over to the two women slumbering next to him, the man smirked to himself, not even bothering to remember their names as he reflected upon the night previous, filled with light drinks, seduction and a side order of sex.
Realising that there was no reason for him to be awake yet, Eames nevertheless moved his hand over to the dresser, removed the G-string and picked up his mobile, checking the time, only to find he had a missed call and a voicemail. Shrugging to himself and sliding from the bed without waking the women, he checked the message, not overly surprised to find it was from Arthur, regarding a new job. Raising his eyebrow in happy realisation, Eames placed the phone on the chest of draws and started to place his clothes on.
When all dressed, Eames picked up his phone, looked over to the still-sleeping women, then slipped out of the room, pressing redial as he waited for the response, the moment the man on the other side picked up, Eames responded by his name only.
"Mr Eames" Arthur reiterated in greeting when he heard the reply, staying as close to the point but as guarded as usual. "I've had a job offer from our last employer, no tourists this time, same point man, no set extractor, possibly the same architect. Are you interested?"
As he listened for a reply Arthur continued his previous activity one handed, folding and packing shirts and waistcoats into a small wheeled suitcase.
"Well, I can't deny an offer from an old friend now can I? Especially with the offer of newer friends" Eames smirked, "Where is the arranged meeting place, you can inform me more there."
As Arthur responded, Eames let his pace quicken, racing through set of doors and past reception before the ladies behind the desk knew what the blur of movement that passed was, yet sure the blur had winked in their direction.
"How long will it take you to get to Paris?" he asked, although they didn't have, and had never had, the smoothest working relationship, Arthur was silently relieved to hear Eames agree immediately to another job. Although he distrusted every single one of the other man's motivations and methods, he trusted the man himself and, without Cobb physically coming on this job, that counted for a great deal.
Zipping up his case as he spoke, Arthur concluded; "I'll meet you in the Hotel de Vendome – you're booked into room eighty four. We'll be able to organise the details from there. I'm hoping we'll pick up the last of our team along the way. And we're going to need visas so I hope your handwriting is still steady."
"Smooth and steady like calm water, darling" Eames responded, almost automatically, as he hailed himself a taxi from outside, "Nice name too, single or double bed by the way, and I suggest a four-poster if you're up for it." Hanging up before he could get a response, Eames sidled into the taxi that had pulled up for him.
"Where to mate?" the driver asked as Eames made himself comfortable, deciding how best to make it to Paris in the time he had. Smiling smugly as he decided, he responded with: "St. Pancras, please, kind sir, I think I have a train seat to book."
As the taxi pulled out, Eames removed his phone once more, accessing the web and doing exactly what he had just stated, never one to be idle, even in the laziest of situations.