Things Hidden: Part II
Ariadne looked up from her small-scale model of Manhattan when she heard the warehouse door open and saw the rain rush in along with Eames. He returned her smile as he pulled off and tossed aside his double-breasted black trench coat. He strolled over to her work station; Ariadne noted Arthur hang up Eames' coat, mumbling.
"Good morning, love," Eames greeted her, running a fingertip over the top of the tiny Chrysler building. She gently pushed his hand away. "Good morning….Jeremiah?" She smiled. Eames laughed silently. "Noticed the IDs did you? Observant little minx you are," he said. Ariadne spotted that red poker chip, weaving its way between his fingers as he spoke. Is that his totem? He always seems to have it on him…
"You have so many! Plus that birth certificate."
He nodded. "Well, yes of course I have so many, I make them, that's what I do you know. As far as the certificate, that's a little project I've been working on – I'd tell you, but I'd have to kill you if I told you, so I won't tell you." They shared a laugh, and Eames strolled to his desk, pushing papers around listlessly, jangling the coins in his pocket.
"How was your real job, Eames?" Ariadne asked off-handedly as they both began to work in earnest. "Hmm? Oh last night…that was fine thanks…why do you ask?" She shrugged. "Just curious I guess…a guy doesn't often completely change his entire wardrobe, posture, name, and birthday and go out on the town, does he?" Eames smiled. "Well, I do."
"Yes, but you're…you," she replied, at which Eames chuckled. "So true, darling, so true."
She wanted to ask more…Eames had never been candid or forthcoming, at least not about anything significant or personal…she knew nothing of him…she wanted to know what he had been up to, whom he was doing it to and why, and whether or not it was connected to dream-sharing. But she saw the way he pursed his lips and lowered his eyes to the folder on his desk: the conversation was over…for now.