Inclined to leave the responsibilities of Ariadne's education to the woman herself and Arthur, Eames had sat back, looking to the other guests, immediately noting body language and vocal patterns as he heard snippets of conversation in strong French tongues. Very quickly, though, a waiter brought over their meals, Eames happy to receive his pork chop, having only eaten a sandwich on the journey from Gare du Nord. Soon the conversation around the team's table turned more personal, Ariadne talking of the hardship of her course, Arthur passing off a few words about his own unimaginable private life and Eames himself reeling off a few recent exploits in England.
With little interest to hear what the other two thought of his personal life, Eames couldn't help looking at the most recent newcomer to the restaurant. She appeared to be standing to leave, or excuse herself to the bathroom, and Eames couldn't help watching her figure, biting his lip as Ari called him back to the conversation, Arthur announcing it was time to leave, that he was taking the student back to her dorm to collect a few items, informing the Forger that he could retire to the room or do as he pleased. Eames smirked as he watched the pair then leave, getting up himself and heading in the bar area, not hesitating to order a local beer from the tender before sitting in the classic slumped position on a stool by the counter, his mind now racing, calculating what he had recently been told and forming scenarios –
Looking up, the newcomer with the body was smiling at him, she had asked something in French, his mind racing to catch up as she took the empty seat next to him. Unable to not look her up and down, Eames muttered "Bien, bonjour magnifique" smiling at her as he added more loudly, "Je parle en effet anglais, peux ne jamais contourner cette substance étrangère de langue…" As she responded, leaning into him, surprising Eames with her confidence, the man couldn't help but immediately think he'd scored big time – and he hadn't instigated it!
"Ah, you are British?" She responded with a slight French accent, marvelling at him. "I am French on my mother's side, but I have a father who is British." she added, lowering her eyes.
Wanting to move the introduction into an actual conversation, he asked in English, "My name's Eames, may I enquire as to yours?"
"Marguerite – Marguerite Collins," she added, taking a perch on the stall next to him. "Eames – is that your last name or your first?" she added, smiling at him. "It sounds like a last name to me. Garcon!" She suddenly called out to the bartender as he passed by, "I'll have a glass of whatever he's having" she smiled again at Eames.
Eames raised a curious eyebrow at her strong personality as he turned to her and said, "It is indeed my last, but I prefer not to be called by my first name – ruins the allure, if you will."
"Ah, well, Eames is a fine name, and I bet your first name is just as fine," Marguerite told him as the bartender filled up a glass for her. "I saw you earlier in the restaurant with your friends," Marguerite continued to him as the bartender went away to fill other orders. "It looked like you three were having fun," she added as she looked away from him for a moment. "I was alone, as you might have noticed." She added, glumly; "I had a bit of a falling-out with my last boyfriend."
She looked back at Eames. "What do you do?" She asked, the hint of wanted to just let loose in her tone; the perfect opportunity for the man as she asked yet another question, one which Eames didn't need to think of an answer for…
"I'm an painter, darling, I create and sell masterpieces, can you not tell by my… creative face?" he tried not to wince at this, knowing as he said it that it sounded pathetic, but at least Marguerite would buy the whole artist-story. Moving his stool closer to her, hoping that Arthur and Ariadne would be held up for a long while on the journey to, and from, Ari's dorm, Eames waited for a response before he continued;
"Yes, I can see it in your pretty face," Marguerite said, leaning towards him. "You have the soul of an artist in those eyes, Eames, behind that rugged exterior. You remind me of Van Gogh." She leaned away from him. "Paris is a wonderful place for painters, Monsieur Eames; they find their greatest inspiration here. That is why Paris is famous all the world over."
It was official: Eames had scored, and big time considering how gorgeous Marguerite was. Eames resisted a boyish grin as he changed tact, asking passionately: "And what do you do, Miss Collins? No, don't tell me, you're a model, I bet… No?"
"I'm afraid not, Monsieur Eames," she replied, momentarily looking away as she informed him; "I am a consultant with the Black Swan Public Relations firm providing my services to non-profit organizations, specifically art museums, here in the Paris area. I have several reporters staying upstairs for an opening tomorrow, and after we had a discussion concerning the museum and its new artwork, I came down here to eat."
Eames smirked, not really caring too much for her words, downing his second glass as he looked her up and down once more, but this time through drink-clouded eyes. Yes, he could sober up in seconds if he wanted to, and when he got her into bed he definitely would – always have sex when sober, he had always said… unless the broad was unattractive, and that had happened a few time. "I hope I'm not boring you too much, Monsieur Eames." Marguerite's words dragged Eames back, "The food is nice, but you know, it is not like home cooking."
"Home cooking can be good if you can cook" Eames muttered seductively, making food-talk sound terribly sexy, "Luckily for me I can, as long as there's a microwave involved" this time he winked; causing her to blush.
"Are you staying here in this hotel?" she asked, sounding like she was getting down to the business he wanted, "or are you residing somewhere else?"
"Yes" he replied smoothly, "I have a room booked in this very hotel, maybe it's near yours?" he was in deep now, he had to chance it.
"We shall have to see," Marguerite replied as the bartender came over with another glass of beer. She took a sip, Eames taking her silence for thought to which he didn't press – he had planted the seeds, all she needed to do was let them grow. Finally Marguerite put the beer down. "I might be willing to follow you up to your room," she giggling at him, "If you want me to, but I have to be sure that you are not bad – are you bad, Monsieur Eames? Is there anything I should know about you that you are not telling me?" She dropped her voice low, asking more soberly, "Should I be aware of you?"
"Of course you should be aware of me…" Eames muttered after a pause, only into Marguerite's ear though now, aware indeed at how dangerous he could be, how at this very moment he was taking in every detail of her, her voice, her looks, her dress, how she moved… everything. He always needed new personas within the dream world, sometimes to seduce the target, other times to act as victim, and Marguerite was as good as anyone else. Leaning back and smiling sultrily, Eames continued, "But it's nothing for you to worry about, darling, I don't have a criminal record if that's what you want to know." Taking the final dregs of his third beer, Eames added only to himself 'well, not in this country…'
Getting off the stall, knowing there was little else he could do to convince her – it was up to Marguerite now – and passing over some change for the beers, Eames muttered into Marguerite's ear: "Just let me freshen up and I'll see you in a minute, I'll be in the Lobby, just for you…" Leaning down and pecking her forehead with a kiss, Eames turned and left the bar, knowing the foreplay was working. He made his way to the Lobby immediately, wandering over to the set of ruby red faux-leather comfy chairs that faced the exit of the bar/restaurant, looking over expectantly.
A voice from behind alerted the Forger to the return of his colleagues, turning in his chair, he looked over. "Arthur" he called, nodding as the man looked around to him, "Ariadne. Welcome back. Sharing a room are we?" he winked at the pair.