"You're late!"

Lillian stepped into her study and shot Evans an irritated look. No matter how many times she told him not to put his feet on her desk, truth was he would always ignore her advice and do it anyway. Sometimes she wondered if knocking him off his chair would teach him a lesson for good. But then, maybe he would break an arm, a clavicle, a finger… which would leave her to explain why she had crippled the team's Architect on purpose.

"What do I keep telling you over and over again…?"

"Oh, right. Sorry. Nasty habit, I know. But I was getting bored. So…" Evans patted the seat of the chair next to his and Lillian sank into it, exhausted, "did you talk to him?"

"Yes I did" she answered fighting a yawn.

"And how did it go?"

"So far, so good."

Evans narrowed his eyes, trying to look as serious and critical as he could.

"Did you actually stick to that ridiculous "stalking" plan of yours?"

She raised an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side, folding her arms across her chest defensively as if she had taken offense at his question "Yes I did"

Evans couldn't help bursting into that contagious laughter of his "Poor Eames! Didn't he freak out? I mean, you certainly know how to pull off the psycho killer look." He pointed a finger at Lillian's face, moving it closer to the outer corner of her right eye. "There it is. See?"

"Very funny" she reached for the accusatory finger, eager to trap it between her index and thumb but Evans retracted it right away "For your information, he handled the situation quite gracefully, actually. He responds well to tension, just as I expected… "

"Honestly, what's wrong with a drink at the pub?"

"I'll tell you what's wrong. It would have been too simple, too easy."

"I don't see the big deal"

Lillian let out a loud sight. She stared at the stash of papers pilling up on her desk, wondering if she would have any sleep that night, and back at Evans.

"Here's the big deal: It's all about pushing the right buttons. You provide the right input and you'll get the expected output"

"Right. And you think his input is…?"

"A combination of mystery, challenge, an appeal to his ambition and the prospect of sexual intercourse. You provide an optimal level of each of them and you'll get him exactly where you want him to be." She had sounded exactly like a bored teacher breaking down the terms of an equation for the millionth time. Again, Evans laughed.

"Did you just say that?"

"What?"

"Prospect of sexual intercourse?"

"Yes I did. Why? Something wrong with it?"

Evans grinned. He could always tell the exact point where he'd begin to push his luck and he was just about to cross that thin line. He scratched his ginger scruff, shook his head and leaned towards Lillian.

"There's not ONE single thing wrong with it. There are several…"

"Evans …" she was cut off before starting to explain she still had an awful lot of work to do.

"First, it's a shame you're toying around with Eames' hormones. I mean, you're the one always bitching about sexism, you hypocrite! Second, what is it with the scientific approach/ terminology to every single fucking thing in life? Do you listen to yourself when you talk? I'm starting to worry about you. There's hardly a hint of spontaneity in your life these days… "

He sank back into his chair and folded his hands behind his head, visibly satisfied with his little speech, even though he regretted not having added an explicit patronizing remark at the end. That would always do the trick.

"Evans", her tone was even and slightly harsh, which was always a reliable indicator of her "I'm going to shred your stupid argument to confetti and make you choke on it" mood. She pointed her finger at him. "You, of all people, should know that I don't bitch about sexism in an absolutely gratuitous way. You see this pile of papers over here? Yeah, that's a thousand articles for me to catalogue. You heard me? Catalogue! Because after four years of hard work and dedication I'm still doing the shitty work anyone literate could do. I don't get to help him preparing his boring lectures. I don't get to attend any conferences. I don't get to do anything that truly matters. Do you know why? Because "All-Mighty Professor Maes" simply can't stand the idea of delegating any substantial task to a woman. Besides… are you a fucking therapist now?"

Evans' grin had already faded and he decided to call it for the night "Lillian, I only meant to… You know I worry about you and sometimes I think you're…"

"Evans… I don't mean to sound rude but, as Gary Oldman once put it "I haven't got the time for this Mickey Mouse bullshit", ok?"

Evans gave her an apologetic look. He rose from his chair and kissed the top of her head "Right. I'll leave you to work then. God forbid you'll start "inputting" the shit out of me."

Lillian smiled despite all the exhaustion that was catching up with her "now that's more like it!"

"Just get some sleep, will you?"

He closed the door behind him, as silently as he could manage, leaving Lillian to take on the herculean task.

"Bet I won't even get a credit in that pretentious book of his…"

...

So, that's it for chapter 2! Originally, I thought about focusing solely on Eames and writing a more extensive chapter but ended up deciding to introduce the other character, Lillian. Oh, and Evans, an Architect. (Yes, poor Evans ended up getting introduced earlier because I needed to get Lillian talking. In a way, he's my Ariadne :))

And because you were the first one to review my fic, thank you very, very much pinup-gurl09! I really hope you enjoyed this one :)