When Eames woke up that morning, he automatically knew, it was going to be a good day. Although, if you asked anyone else, it was going to be a wet, dreary, depressing day due to the dark rain clouds that hung in the sky.
But Eames didn't care about rain clouds. All he cared about was the things he was specialized in, and how fun it was to use those specialties.
And what he was specialized in was references.
A good reference gets you into a place. A brilliant reference gets the people from that place to talk to you. And a completely extraordinary reference can make them look at you like you're a god.
So it wasn't too hard for him to get Ariadne's friends to fess up on what was making her look so distracted all the time.
Or rather, who.
"She never says his name," one said, a red head who was taking pictures of a restaurant for inspiration. "Just always talks about what he wears. A three pieced suit it is apparently. Must be wealthy, if he wears those suits all the time."
Another one, who was blond, knew about his behavior. "She's always saying how straight forward he is. By the way she speaks of him, you could practically says his aim is to be absolutely perfect."
Just those two conversations gave him enough to know who Adriane was distracted about. And it made him deliciously filled with malicious glee.
He could see a fun little plan forming already.
But did he think the same way of her.
Eames knew that he would be harder to get references on. He had no friends, other than people in work, and Eames knew nothing about him then what he had been allowed to see.
And a Point Man doesn't usually show much unless it suits him.
So his best hope was to study his movements.
Studying a person who was skilled in the little details of everything turned out to be quite challenging.
Eames would look over to the Point Man, and immediately Arthur would look up, pen tapping his cheek while his other hand was halfway through flipping through his leather journal, and ask the same question.
"Do you need something Eames?"
It was infuriating, Eames soon realized. He had always found Arthur a hard man to place, just because he had nothing in common with the imagination of dreaming.
But that's what made him good at his job. In even a world of dreams, you need one person who walks on a straight line to help with keeping something a little more like reality.
So he asked the others. First was Cobb, an easy choice since he did know Arthur the longest.
It turned out to be a dead end.
"I'm sorry Eames, but I know what you are up to when you start asking questions like this, and I'm not going to get in the middle of it," the extractor said, shuffling through papers for his second case back from his one year retirement. He nearly knocked over a picture with his kids and him, but Saito was passing by, about to ask a question, and managed to catch it before it crashed to the floor.
And so he was the next target.
Saito had hired them for a simple extraction, just a small thing that he wanted to take care of. For them, it would take no strain to complete the job. It was a go in, grab the information, get out. And then Saito would deal with the man he suspected was stealing money from him.
As tourists go, he was quite skilled in the dreamscape. He had proved himself in the inception job, and now he was part of the team. Of course, only when he was the one giving the jobs. Other than that, he was only heard on those few moments when they would all go to Cobb's house and talk about what had been going on, while the children chose who was going to be there favorite for the night.
When Eames asked him the question, Saito put his hands in his pockets, staring critically at the forger.
"I don't dwell on those relationships. You shouldn't either, just let those two decide these things on their own."
Eames found his day that was supposed to be a good day, one of the best in his life, was becoming increasingly not good.
And it was only ten in the morning.
He does like to work quickly.
Eames walked back and forth in front of his desk area, debating several things in his mind. Yusuf, the desk closest to the impatient forger, looked up with a glare, finding the continuous tapping sound of the pacing distracting, something he disliked when he was working on his 'special compounds'.
"If you're going to do that all day, please do it somewhere else," he said, moving the glasses off his nose toward the top of his head.
Eames looked toward him, paused between a step and rubbing his face. His mind seemed to slowly process the chemists words, and then a light bulb went off somewhere.
And so Yusuf found himself being asked a question that Cobb and Saito had been subjected to not long ago.
"Truthfully, I never thought about it," he said, racking his mind for something to distract the determined forger. "And, it's sort of a dangerous thought, in our line of work, isn't it? I mean, with the whole dreaming aspect of it all."
Eames suddenly had to agree with him. He walked away to sit at his desk, not aware that the chemist was secretly congratulating himself on getting Eames to leave, even though he had no idea how.
Dreaming was a dangerous job already without the relationships you gain along the way. And, relationships like Cobb and Mal…
He decided to rethink his plan, and ask the point man a certain question. If he was given the correct answer, he would go through with it. If it was wrong… he would stop meddling and just hope that it didn't go for the worst.
"Arthur."
He looked up, a slight crease on his forehead in concentration. And something else when looking at the forger, which Eames pleasantly would say was adoration. In reality, it was irritation.
"What is it Eames? Or are you here to annoy me."
"As lovely as that is, I have an important question to ask you."
"No, you cannot have some money."
Eames lips twitched into a smile. Despite being far from the question he was going to ask, he had to admit. He did ask for spare cash to borrow more than often.
"No, you see, I have a question to ask you. It's important, so answer truthfully."
"Eames, I really have no time for your…"
"What would you do if you had a relationship with someone in the dreaming business."
Silence is usually not a good sign. But Eames did, because it meant he was actually thinking of the question, that it made him even more serious then usual.
"Like a friend?" he attempted, eyes sliding back down to his journal. He obviously knew what Eames was asking.
"Yes, since I'm so worried about our relationship as friends. No, you dense idiot. A romantic relationship, with all that kissing and sharing drinks and stuff that happen in the bedroom."
He earned a glare. "Why the sudden curiosity in that area of my life."
"I'm doing a poll. Asking every what they would do and such."
Arthur sighed, putting his pen down and leaning back in his chair. Such a tempting position, to tilt him all the way back for Eames own amusement.
"I'm guessing you won't leave till you get the answer."
"You have guessed correctly."
His thin fingers rolled his red die in his hand over and over again, before dropping it lightly to the table top. Seeming to find it satisfactory, he finally gave an answer.
"If I had a romantic relationship with someone in the dream business, I would base our relationship in reality. Anything to do with the dreamscape, I would be careful that the relationship didn't coincide with it."
Eames felt like whooping for joy. He felt like grabbing the point man and spinning him across the warehouse in happiness at the answer.
But all he did was smile and pat Arthur on the back, slightly pushing the point man backwards and chuckling to himself as he watched him wave his arms in an attempt to stay balanced.
Now that he had his answer, he decided to do with what he had. He rolled his chair over to the architect's desk, who was currently sketching a museum, something to be used in the extraction case.
"Ariadne, how wonderful to see you here. Come here often?"
She lifted her head with a soft smile, putting down her pencil and eraser as she gave him her full attention.
"No, not too often. What are you doing here?"
"Well," he spun in his chair a bit, casually calculating whether or not Arthur could hear them. When he decided he could, he turned back around toward Ariadne. "I believe I owe you something."
She raised an eyebrow, slightly confused. "You owe me what?"
"A dinner, my dear, a dinner. You see, I have been noticing that you've been working too hard lately, and as a gentleman," he thought he heard some snorts in the back but continued on. "It would be wrong of me not to notice you have been distracted."
"Oh Eames, that's sweet but really," she put her hands up in protest. "You don't have to."
"No, no. I insist. Come along, my dear, I can get us into the best restaurant in Paris," He moved to pull out his chair when he felt a hand fall on his shoulder.
"Eames, I don't think she wants to go," Arthur said in a scarily calm voice. Eames had forgotten to add in the fact that Arthur might get hostile.
"Arthur, I don't really mind to go out to dinner," Ariadne tried, hoping to stop a fight from break out between the two men.
He looked at her for a few seconds. She had a small smile on, her eye brows creased in a frown, but her eyes seemed to be distracted again, just by looking at him.
"Then you don't mind that I am the one to take you out to dinner," he smiled, a rare sight on him.
Ariadne blinked. Eames was silently hoping to be let free of Arthur's grip, with limbs intact of course.
"S-sure. Where do you have in mind?"
"Oh, we'll figure that out later."
And he let go of Eames shoulder, took Ariadne's hand, and led her out of the warehouse, pausing to grab his and her coats, and then they were gone.
Eames gave himself a mental pat on the shoulder.
Cobb smiled fondly, about to call his children to tell them he'd be home soon.
Saito didn't look up, but a smirk graced his features.
Yusuf chuckled lightly, glad that Eames plan had gone without anyone getting hurt.
When Eames woke up that morning, he automatically knew, it was going to be a bad day. Although, if you asked anyone else, it was going to be a cool, sunny, pleasant day due to the clear sky.
But Eames didn't care about clear skies. All he cared was that everything backfired on him.
Now that Ariadne and Arthur finally had realized their feelings, he felt that the world had become a darker place for him.
They never actually did anything that screamed out their relationship, but he knew. He knew everything.
They would occasionally glance at each other, just to smile, and then continue on with their work. When leaving together, he heard them laughing about things he had no idea they were speaking of.
And it infuriated him to no end.
He had wanted them together, sure, to tease them to no end, but they didn't care when he attempted to. They gave him nothing to work with.
And he knew they were doing it on purpose.
"I feel like trying to break them up," he grumbled once to Cobb, folding his arms as he watched their retreating figures.
With a smile, all he said was, "Yes, but that's playing with dreams."