A/N: Alright, second chapter. Once again, not a very long chapter, but quality is better than quantity, right? Anyway, here it is, I hope you like it.

We are not only less reasonable and less decent in our dreams... we are also more inteligent, wiser and capable of better judgment when we are asleep than when we are awake.

~Erich Fromm

One torturously silent walk later, Ariadne and Arthur finally stopped at a small, streetside bistro with the words Aprés Soleil above it in ornate, flowing script. They sat at a small table next to the window, where they could look outside and observe the uncrowded streets.

Fingers curled around the warm coffee cup, Ariadne glanced to her blueberry scone, which was still sitting on the porcelian plate waiting for her to take a bite out of it. Why did I even buy myself that thing anyway? I hate scones? she wondered, narrowing her eyes and leaning back. Her mind was still muddled with a web of theories as to what the job could be. More than anything, she wished she had her totem with her, she wanted to feel the smooth bishop clasped in her hand. Just touching it provided an inexplicable sense of comfort. At first, after the Fischer job, she kept it with her at all times. She performed so many reality checks it was borderline OCD. But as time passed, she finally began to fall back into the familiar mentality that she was, in fact, in reality. Her totem, she was ashamed to admit, had become a knick-knack that did nothing more than sit in her apartment and collect dust.

"So how have you been?" Arthur said, sitting down across from her.

"Good, I guess." She replied, grazing her thumbnail across the paper surface of her coffee cup. "I started dreaming again."

Arthur's thin lips spread a little into a smirk. "Good, good. You still keep your totem with you, don't you?"

Ariadne's stomach performed a nauseating little flip when she noticed the way his tone changed from casual to concerned. She didn't need ESP to understand that Arthur wouldn't approve of her leaving her totem in her apartment. His look said everything she needed to know. Eyebrow cocked, gaze searching for any signs of lying, his entire demeanor seemed to have changed in an instant.

"Um, yeah. I never leave home without it." She replied with a quick nod and a slight smile, scratching the back of her neck.

Then she remembered that touching one's neck was a sign of lying, and almost unconsciously, her hand returned to it's original position of being wrapped around the cup. She had no idea whether or not Arthur knew anything about body language, but she wasn't going to take any chances. The man had improvised a kick in zero gravity, there was no telling what he was capable of.

"So, what's the job you were talking about?" She said finally, body tensing with the realization that her question was completely random.

The feeling of excitement inside her had finally bubbled over and driven her to ask about the job. She was struggling enough to hide her child-like eagerness, the same sort of eagerness she used to get on Christmas morning when she was a little girl. It always seemed like every second passed by slower when she got like that.

"It's an inception." Arthur said bluntly, his lips barely moving as he spoke. "It's a bit similar to the last one."

She paused and allowed herself to process his words. At the sound of the word Inception, three-layer dream popped up in her head, and once again her stomach did that nauseating flip. The thought of a three-layer dream made another word shoot up in her head, a word that brought a swirl of different emotions, namely fear, doom, and anxiety.

Limbo.

"The mark is the CEO of GEMINI Incorporated, Antoine Charpentier. He's been diagnosed with terminal cancer, and he has nine to twelve months to live, so we're working with a deadline." Arthur explained, leaning forward a little.

Ariadne could have sworn she caught a whiff of cologne emanating off of him, probably something ridiculously expensive she had never heard of before. A gentle tingle bloomed in her stomach as she realized that what she smelled was in fact his cologne.

"The man who hired us is his brother, Jacques Charpentier. Jacques has been trying to inherit control of Antoine's empire, but Antoine is leaving it to his daughter, Mathilda, instead." He continued. "She has made it very clear that she does not want to inherit it, but he still wants to pass it on to her. What we need to do is convince Antoine to pass on the company to Jacques, instead."

"Does Mathilda know about this?" Ariadne inquired, her knee gently bumping against Arthur's for a quick second as she crossed her legs uncomfortably. "Sorry."

"No. We can't be sure, but we think that Mathilda is planning to completely dissolve the company once her father's dead." Arthur countered. "Jacques, on the other hand, plans to merge it with another company, DELTA Enterprises."

Pain was beginning to bloom in her chest because of the way her heart was pounding against her ribcage. Her lips parted in preparation to reply, then she paused, carefully considering her words. "W-what would I be designing?"

Ariadne tried to think about what would be a good dream layout for the job, even though she knew absolutely nothing about Antoine Charpentier. She hadn't even known he existed until now. Obviously she would need to learn as much as she could about him as fast as she could, since they had a deadline.

"Well, we don't have enough information on him to really decide on that yet." Arthur pressed his lips together in a look of resignation. "But I need to know now, do you want to be the Architect?"

The words burst from her mouth before she even gave it any thought. "Yes."

Arthur's lips stretched into a close-lipped smile, and she suddenly realized that he got dimples whenever he smiled. "Good. Be at the warehouse on Saturday, at ten."

They both got up and started towards the shiny glass doors that led outside, the moment still a surreal blur for Ariadne. Before Arthur stepped outside, he suddenly reached into his pocket and pulled out a small slip of paper.

"Oh, here." He said, handing her the slip. "In case you need to call me."

Ariadne nodded, unfolding the slip of paper. The numbers 618-3415 were written across it in handwriting so neat and so precisely, she could have sworn that they had been typed. They even looked like they were in the font Times New Roman. Definitely Arthur's handwriting. It matched everything else about him.

"Bye." Arthur said to her, before promptly walking off.

Ariadne watched his lean figure slowly get smaller as he walked farther and farther away from her, the realization of what she had just done finally sinking in.

There you go. Once again, I love reviews, they are my fuel, haha. Cya.