Lauraa-x: Thanks for the long review! Five shake…that poor socially awkward man. Haha. And yes, Ariadne gets very hotheaded when someone brings it up. It's one of those things where she absolutely hates that she feels something for him (as confusing and muddled as whatever those feelings are) but she keeps it in her head. And when someone takes it out for speculation, it annoys her. Because she annoys herself with the crush. Pien1993: Thanks! Yes both their thoughts are fun to play with. Numbah435spiritsong: your review literally made me so happy. Things are about to pick up a little for A/A though.

Thanks FoxJL and Zannab0801 for favoriting and following the story. Drop a line if you ever have time.

Chapter 10: Dangerous.

Arthur and the Chemist were in the middle of the warehouse talking about their Extractor when the door swung open and a short brunette strode in. The Chemist looked her up and down while Arthur obliviously kept talking. Her skinny jeans hugged her hips, her red blouse hung and flowed loosely like the waves of her hair. Wedges to make her look taller. Never taking his eye off of her, the Chemist pointed Arthur's attention behind him, "Who's that pretty little creature?"

The Point knew who the Chemist was referring to without having to look (only because neither Eames nor their Extractor would be classified as pretty. Or little.) but he did anyway. Both her hands clutched her sling as she surveyed her surroundings, making sure she was in the right place. There were lawn chairs and desks but she hadn't noticed any of the boys yet. Arthur lifted his hand to call her over but it was Eames' voice who boomed from the shadows on the right side of her. "Who let you in?"

First, her head whipped to the voice in recognition and then her face lit up. "EAMES!" She dropped her bag and ran across the warehouse to tackle him in a hug, "Oh my God, I've missed you. Emails and phone calls don't do our friendship justice." Arthur's once excited demeanor (at seeing her in person again) fell slightly because of the vigor she greeted the forger with. And apparently the two had not only kept in touch by phone (like he and she had) but by email as well. Whereas Arthur had few friends and Ariadne one of the closest, Ariadne had many friends and all of them close. It was marginally bothersome.

"Don't I know it?" He released her and set her on the ground. Eyes twinkling, "Hey, have you gotten taller? Oh no it's just those stilts on your feet. And you're still shorter than me…"

Slap on the shoulder, "I wouldn't be talking," carefully, her hand picked through his hairs, "I think you're thinning out…"

"Not funny." Eames glared first, then mischievously advocated second, "Hey, I hear we're not technically starting til Monday. We should go to Naples tomorrow and feast on pizza where it was invented."

Ariadne nodded, "Hell yes." Distracted, she peered into the back of the building searching for a familiarly shaped shadow. "Where's Arthur?"

The Point Man reveled in that question for a split-second. The inclination that she wanted to see him felt empowering. "Hey Architect," He and the Chemist walked over to them. What was more empowering was the brightened hue of her eyes when they settled on him and the thrill hitting her features as strongly as the sunlight through the skylights.

The Chemist moved to her side and the Point Man pushed passed the Englishman. "Mr. 'Impossible'…" He stood with his hands in his pockets, not sure what to do with them. Ariadne thought they might just stand there and smile at each other but Arthur's hand finally found out what to make of itself. He offered, "Five shake?"

Eames asked what the hell as five shake was as a soundtrack to Ariadne complying. And then exclaimed how bizarre they both were once it was complete. Instead of letting go, though, Ariadne narrowed her eyes and tugged on his arm. Her arms wrapped around his neck easily and hugged him. She couldn't help it; The Architect was on an excitement high from being in a beautiful city she'd never seen before, from the prospect of dreaming again and seeing her old pals. "Sorry, I know you hate those," she mumbled as she released him, "I've just—" Saying she missed him might've made him uneasy. They were leagues more open with each other than before but feelings and emotions were still off-limits. So she settled for the equally true statement, "It's good to see you."

"You too." Arthur made no comment on the hug. To positively comment was out of question. To do so negatively wasn't something he could do truthfully. Maybe it wasn't the loud, animated, confetti and bubblegum reunion she'd had with Eames…Maybe it was gentler and quieter than that with the forger… but Arthur felt it decidedly just as important to her. And that made up for him feeling like their friendship suffered because of his careful boundaries.

The Italian man in the wings cleared his throat to bring Arthur back to the present. Eyes falling back to their bemused state, Arthur droned, "This is our Chemist, Gavin Russo."

Arthur didn't forecast Ariadne's reaction to the man to be what it was. He watched her closely while her head turned. While her eyes minutely widened. Regarding the rest of her face, she looked normal. Her eyes though, they glimmered. She pivoted to face him fully, holding out her hand, "Nice to meet you. I'm Ariadne."

Gavin was younger than Arthur, not by much but he was closer to Ariadne's age. Or so he looked. He had a perfect smile and face structure, dark hair and eyebrows. (Probably a minimally hairy chest and abs of steel). He'd lived in Italy for as long as Ariadne had lived in Paris and the beauty of the culture certainly rubbed off on him. Gavin shook her hand eagerly but instead of letting go, maneuvered to hold it and bring it to his lips. They lingered by her knuckles while he simpered, "The pleasure is all mine."

Downward like arrows, her eyes shot. And her entire face and neck glowed pink. To Arthur's surprise, she toyed back. He expected her to roll her eyes and call him a douche like she would Eames. To get offended by this man thinking he could melt her with his arrogant charm. Rather, that coy look in her eye that she normally gave Arthur when she challenged him? It was given to Gavin, "No…I'm pretty sure I got some pleasure from that."

The Chemist didn't let go of her hand. Arthur knew because he stared hard at it, thinking Gavin would realize how discourteous it was to keep it hostage and that any second he would drop it. Or any second, Ariadne would pull it away. It was hers, after all, she could remove it if she wanted. It wasn't too impolite. Did she know that? "Were you named after the myth? Princess of Crete? Dionysus' Wife?"

Impressed, Ariadne nodded, "Everyone gets that wrong. They think she married Theseus."

"He was her first love…" the Italian gestured around the warehouse with his free hand, "but he was all about the mission. Theseus broke her heart, Dionysus made her a goddess." Winking, (winking Arthur inwardly gaped) Gavin released her hand at last. They hadn't known each other three minutes and they were smiling at each other like they shared a secret. Something in Arthur's belly twitched with anger when her one eyebrow jumped. Could Ariadne not see that was a blatant move on her? She was an independent thinking woman…she hated womanizing men who doled out cheesy lines.

The Chemist addressed the other men, "Well I have some chemicals outside that I need to bring in and chill but—" Then he was back to Ariadne, like a damn cheetah on a gazelle, hand resting on her elbow, "I hope to get to know each other better, Princess." Princess?! Come on…

The Architect blushed again while she nodded. Then waited until the warehouse door shut before she twisted to Arthur, "Did you pluck him from the pages of GQ? Isn't he a Chemist? Chemists aren't supposed to be sexy. They're supposed to be like Yusuf. No offense to Yusuf…"

Did Ariadne just use the word sexy? Who was this person? The Point Man didn't answer. Eames chuckled and teased, "Do I sense some attraction, love?"

"Um yes." She proclaimed unashamedly, "If I were a man, I'd be questioning my orientation right now." She gave them pointed looks, reached up to rest her palm on Eames' forehead, "Feeling straight?"

No. Impossible. The guy didn't seem all that great; he was nothing like Ariadne thought he was…whatever she thought he was. Gavin was headstrong and stubborn. Arthur sensed the man was a philanderer and tried to deter Ariadne before her thoughts derailed into dangerous territory, "From the few hours I've spent with him, he seems narcissistic. Completely in love with himself."

"Can you blame him?" Ariadne pursed her lips.

Not that Ariadne had agreed to the job because of the opportunity to work with Arthur again. Plausibly, it could've been one of the deciding factors or perhaps just a bonus. Not that Arthur believed they would spend any exclusive time together when she arrived. He thought they might talk for a bit longer than they had though. It wasn't that Arthur thought her arrival to the warehouse should be all about him…but it was as if not seeing each other in person for several months didn't matter to her. She was happy to see him for a fleeting moment and then he wasn't there. He was Arthur for two minutes and then back to the stuffy Point Man she felt was too square. Like they backtracked in the time it took her to say 'Nice to meet you, I'm Ariadne.' In conclusion:

Arthur didn't like Gavin Russo. He didn't like him at all.
xxxxxxx

Their extractor, ex-military man, Victor Marsh arrived later that afternoon. And that night they met at the warehouse before a mandatory dinner with the client. Ever thinking ahead, Arthur rented a separate vehicle than the ones they'd use, for the purpose of riding down together. One only used for that event. That way any tails or cross-extractors wouldn't have the correct license plate number or vehicle make to do any tracking if something got leaked or the client turned on them.

Arthur was exceptionally good at offending Ariadne. As they all parted from the warehouse to check-in to their hotels, unpack and get ready for the dinner, he asked if she'd brought anything other than jeans and cardigans. And reminded her that they 'needed to look classy and well-bred .' To which she replied, "Sorry I dress like a trashy peasant, Arthur."

He meant it in the best of intentions so he tried to save the sinking ship, "It's not that I think adversely of your wardrobe. I find it refreshing…but the client is picky. I just mean dress nice like you did for the show."

Ariadne waved him off and left for the hotel without a word. The next time he saw her, she'd cleaned up well, wearing the dress from her brother's funeral with the addition of a skinny red belt, nude pumps and a light sweater. The section of her hair that normally hung over her face had been twisted and pinned back. Ariadne was the last to meet at the warehouse, arriving at 5:04 pm when Arthur specifically told her they needed to convene at 5:00 pm. "You're late."

"By four minutes," she held up her phone with the time on it, "not twenty." Ariadne actually would've made it to the warehouse ten minutes early if she didn't deliberately take her time to piss Arthur off. Four minutes wasn't enough time to be reamed out by the client but more than enough to make the Point Man squirm. Which he deserved after implying she'd show up to a business dinner dressed like a slob. She grew up in the southern east coast…she knew about dressing to impress at dinner parties, crossing your legs and dotting your I's to look proper. Shannon had forced her to do the whole debutante cotillion thing at fifteen. "It takes time to look presentable to the public…" The Architect's held out arms said 'Tada' but her face said 'Bite me'. "Do you approve?"

Why did she always take things so personal? The Point Man did the same thing any invitation would've done. He requested an attire of her. Like garden attire or semi-formal or black and white tie. There was a need to remind her it wasn't a casual affair. If it was, then by all means: The more faded the jeans and bright the scarf, the merrier. "Yes, actually. It's exactly what I had in mind."

"That was a rhetorical question, I don't care." she chimed. "I've been dressing myself for 23 years; you should really trust me more."

Arthur straightened and started to reprimand, "There is no need to be rude to me."

"You were rude to me."

Now, Arthur could tell himself he was in the right. That he said nothing wrong. That he was being helpful, that his intentions were good. That she was overreacting and there was nothing to apologize for. Or he get her anger with him to subside… "You know I didn't mean to be." The Point man guessed they were back to normal when she shrugged. He thought he caught it rolling off her back. What was going on? What was the deal here? What had changed between her yanking him into a hug that morning and their fighting now? It was more that his botched up words earlier.

"Looking good, Princess!" Both Ariadne and Arthur twisted to see the Chemist emerge from the bathroom, cheekily winking at her. But when Arthur turned back to their conversation, the Architect was staring downcast, biting her lip to keep from smiling.

It was Gavin's fault. He was worse than Eames…sure, when it was just Arthur and Ariadne or even when they were accompanied by Dom or Miles, Arthur could be lighthearted enough for her. His jokes would seem funny, his teasing entertaining. The little he'd allow himself to do was good enough for her, good enough to seem close, when not compared with anyone else. But Eames and Gavin were so over the top with their attentions that it made all the small things (like a one-liner and smirk or a flash of his laser point pen) seem pitiful tries at being friendly. For instance: "How about we bury the hatchet with a five shake?"

The woman glanced at him preceding a check of her phone, "It's 5:09, we don't want to be too late."
xxxxxxx

The client was late. Nearly an hour.

The restaurant they picked was in the heart of classical Rome, near the blocked off ruins, somewhere around the Coliseum. An option for private dining was the establishment's rooftop terrace (weather permitting). Black iron twisted into ornately shaped railing around the perimeter of the building. One long rectangular table sat smack dab in the middle, adorned with an ivory tablecloth, lowly burning candles, and rustic orange plate sets. A garden area was neatly placed on the back half of the roof, sundried tomatoes hanging from lattice archways in the midst of bright Christmas light looking fixtures and the smell of freshly turned soil. After the first fifteen minutes of sitting patiently at the table and marveling at the surrounding skyline, Ariadne decided to drag Eames over to explore the garden. And once that was done and the Forger rejoined the group at the table, The Architect fancied leaning over the rail and listening to the band. They played from the ground floor amidst the patrons in the courtyard. Classical Italian favorites like On An Evening in Roma and Volare.

Any minute now, their client would show up and their Architect would be dilly-dallying off lost in her own world. It was given Arthur a coronary. He forgot how stressful Ariadne could be…she should sit down so the team would be ready to dive into business as soon as Mr. Petrelli got there. That and her swaying was distracting. He breathed a sigh of relief when Gavin got up to bring her back to the table.

Except he didn't lead her back. He leaned his hip into the rail beside her and whispered something that she nodded to. Sipping his water, Arthur narrowed his eyes to read Gavin's lips. Once the Chemist put a hand around her waist, Arthur was ready to intervene. Gavin was certainly making her uncomfortable. He was being too forward and forcing himself on her, Ariadne was trying to fight him off by—resting her hand lightly on his shoulder and offering the other to be held? It took a few side steps for Arthur to realize this wasn't some odd form of rape, they were dancing. When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie that's amore. When the world seems to shine like you've had too much wine that's amore.

Down, up, up. Down up, up. He twirled her unexpectedly. Gavin led Ariadne around the terrace slowly until the music built, then bounced and sashayed upbeat with the tambourine. Making her laugh uncontrollably, being a little kid with her like she was with James and Philippa. It got where he would mouth the lead tenor's voice and she would mouth for the litany of female background voices. Mr. Petrelli arrived in the middle of their routine, but Arthur hadn't noticed because he was zoned in on the Chemist and Architect. This grinded on his nerves more than the things she did with Eames. Probably because he knew there was no attraction with Eames. It was pure comedy between them. But with Gavin—she openly admitted to being interested. And well…the problem there was that a romantic relationship within the team would be detrimental to the job.

"When you walk in a dream but you know you're dreaming signore…" the Architect was dipped, causing her hand to move to Gavin's neck not to fall. Causing Arthur's glare to harden.

For Ariadne, Gavin was an opportunity. For what? To get over her unfair, peculiar infatuation with the Point Man. There was no use fantasizing about it or hanging on scraps of his attention. Here was a handsome, unguarded man who worked in the field she loved that she could transfer those feelings to. Judging by the way he treated her, the chances of them dating were far greater than the chance of Ariadne and Arthur. In fact, the chance of dating Channing Tatum was more foreseeable.

"Arthur." Victor called. "Arthur."

Upon switching his attention to the Extractor, he noticed both Eames, Victor and Petrelli were standing and greeting one another. Smoothing the front of his jacket, Arthur gave him a firm handshake. "Hello Philippe."

"I apologize for the delay, my jet had some trouble and we had to make a stop in Livorno." The Point heard him say. He didn't see because his eyes slid back over to the Architect to make sure they knew the client was there. Thankfully they had and made their way back to the table as the men sat. Philippe, pointed with his hand to the rest of the terrace, "Don't stop on my account."

Great. Ariadne glimpsed at Arthur worriedly. She cared less about offending the boss than she did about embarrassing Arthur. They had a tiff before dinner but she didn't want another one. "I'm sorry, sir."

"No, don't apologize. I wasn't being facetious," corrected he while draping the napkin in his lap, "I enjoyed watching you two dance." Arthur thought wryly that that made one of them.

Ariadne winced shyly, "Because it's humorous?" Then she took a big swig of the merlot for a boost in confidence, "I design better than I dance, I promise." This was where her cotillion luncheons finally paid off. Her mom was right; she could use that fakely charming small talk for something.

"Design?" Philippe's brows rose, "Then you must be Miss Bourgeois." Suddenly his amused fondness of the girl turned into utmost respect and he offered his hand across the table for her to shake.

"Yes sir, Ariadne."

"I'm honored. Especially since Arthur was so adamant about having you on his team. I've hired him before. There are very few he brags about."

Arthur stiffened. Did he have to announce that to the whole table? It took no time at all for Eames to nudge him and lilt with too much suggestiveness to be overlooked by the rest of the party. "Brags?"

Ariadne caught his disenchantment with the notion being mistaken (Except he was disenchanted that they weren't mistaken. He really had bragged. Because he was proud of her.) so she shook her head humbly, "Well, he was one of my mentors. I'm sure any compliments were just strokes to his ego."

Which was worse? Her thinking he took all the credit for her talents or her knowing he pulled strings to work with her again? Mr. Petrelli settled it for him, "No, he credited your training to Stephen Miles over in Paris."

Ariadne nodded, followed by another dainty sip of wine, "That would be true of real-world architecture. But Arthur—" she looked at him that way she did at the foot of the stairs in Cobb's house. That way she did when he was introduced to the Holts. That private way she hadn't looked at him with since she met Gavin and even though that was only since that morning, he missed. "Arthur, taught me how to use it in the dream."

She gave credit where it was undue. He didn't teach her how to take the dreamscape by storm, he unlocked her ability to. Arthur didn't do anything really. He gave her tips but the awe-inspiring work was all hers. The pure creation was all her. "I didn't teach you how to be innovative."

Eames chuckled, "No, he certainly didn't."

"Enough about me." Ariadne shook her head and changed subject, "Shall we discuss the job?"
xxxxxxx

The warehouse was empty save for their resident workaholic. Not that she was surprised…Instead of heading straight to her corner, she stop off at her friend's desk. "Why good morning, Point Man," her face was framed by her hands as she leaned her elbows on his desk. Her scarf of the day hung between her arms: A bright orange and buttered yellow grid pattern.

Arthur looked at his watch and then at her incredulously, "You're here an hour and a half early." Not that he was complaining. He woke up with a strange anticipation to get to the warehouse which he only realized was anticipation to see the Architect once she waltzed in. Typing in the end of his sentence first, he leaned back in his chair to converse.

"I was excited," she beamed then winced in afterthought, "I wouldn't count on it happening every morning, though."

He smirked, "No I wasn't going to." Lighthearted chit chat had become extremely easy for him over the phone. He got used to teasing and taking ribs on at least a monthly basis when either of them called. In person, however, he felt himself clamming back up again. Not because he wanted to but because he wasn't used to her bright eyes and alluring smile accompanying the voice on the receiver. Sometimes he imagined it, he could see it through her intonation but it was never in front of him. He struggled on how to handle it. Phones allow you to feign connection with someone comfortably because you're miles away from them. Not a foot away. Not making eye contact. Not falling victim to their feminine wiles.

"So, what'd you do yesterday?" Normally, Arthur would've said something when she moved a stack of paperwork from the bottom corner of his desk to the upper corner and hopped atop it. Desks weren't for sitting; he put his breakfast and coffee there. And each object or document was placed in a certain area of his workspace for a reason. One object where it shouldn't be and the research could be screwed, causing failure in the dream and repercussions in reality. He didn't scold her though. Arthur was too occupied concentrating on the fact that her legs were inches from his forearm, that they were swinging (in what felt like a teasing way to him) and that he was so glad he called her to be the Architect for this job cause he missed her levity. "Head start on research?"

The man hoped his eye placement while he was internally battling wasn't noticeable. He gestured playfully to the heaps of towered papers, open files, books, highlighters and his computer. "How'd you know?" Ariadne considered the bounty in front of them thoughtfully, then shrugged, equally as playful. Her eyes left his for no reason but to scour over the warehouse. Strangely, he wanted them back. So he asked a question, "What about you?" He heard her and Eames discussing a trip to another part of Italy on their day off, "Naples with the Forger?"

And deliciously, her gaze returned. "Naples with the Forger. Wreaking havoc on the city. Gondola-jacking." At his puzzled expression, she explained, "Like car-jacking. But with a gondola. It's super popular here…or so Eames convinced me. He's quite the loose cannon, that one."

"No…" he breathed in utter fabricated shock, "not Mr. Eames…" The greatest sound he'd heard in a while had to have been the way their laughs mixed together. It was better in person—not all crackly and blind. Arthur thought of the difference between this interaction and the last one they had and couldn't help but bring it up. "Are we ok?"

"Why wouldn't we be?"

For starters, because of Mr. 'Pleasure Is All Mine' Russo but he avoided the subject of the Chemist completely...Arthur even aimlessly scrolled through documents on his computer to seem less invested, "Our first day back wasn't as jovial as it could've been. And you were upset with me for more than half of it."

"It was two days ago," she shrugged.

Silence fell upon them. Maybe the Architect looked like she'd forgotten it, pointlessly scanning the warehouse and tapping her fingers on his desk but a gnat inside Arthur's ear kept buzzing that it wasn't resolved. "I don't hold any disdain for the way you dress."

"I know," fell out of her mouth so purely true that he was perplexed. Well then why had she acted so highly insulted that night? The explanation came quick enough, "It wasn't that. You just…went back to being old, condescending Arthur." The Point Man didn't say anything when she plucked a highlighter from his holder either. Nor when she started writing on her hand with it. (He was sure you could get some kind of poisoning from that…but since she just complained about his condescension, he'd leave it up to her judgment.) "I was upset 'cause it felt like we backtracked."

Exactly Arthur's train of thought. But there was no way he would allow himself to indicate feelings so he chose an alternative word, "I sensed that too."

Ariadne truly was a great associate. Ever since she bought him that breakfast (probably before as well), Arthur observed how considerate she was. Not only in general but to him specifically. She did her best to understand his atypical views on relationships and how they should operate in the workplace and to the greatest of her ability abided by the boundaries that kept him at ease. Arthur was no fool. He was not blind or deaf. He saw when she would go to pat or hug him and her muscles would reflexively flinch back. He heard her brief stammer and rewording when she was fixing to say something that might throw him off or put him on the spot. In that moment, he could perceive the wheels turning in her head, formulating what she should say, "I know we have to be way more serious than we were at Dom's when we're on the clock. And I know work comes first and all that but…" when Ariadne hesitated, he made sure to lean forward and show her she could (should) continue. That he was interested in her contemplations. "You could talk to me like you do on the phone. And not like I'm livestock."

Was that an accurate description of his dealings with her that day? Arthur visibly winced, "I'll adjust."

"Bonjourno all." In came Gavin to interrupt and her eyes quickly shot up to watch him parade in. Arthur didn't miss the way she sat up a bit straighter. "Ariadne, la bella." He winked at her (what was with that guy and winking? He should have it checked for a condition or get eye drops) and saluted the Point who did little more than purse his lips and wave.

It was good that she didn't sound hypnotized by him, "Morning Gavin." It worked wonders on Arthur's building nerves that she regarded the new Chemist like she would any of them. "Well, I'll stop bothering you." Wait, was talking to Arthur again? The suit looked over from Gavin to Ariadne, who'd already hopped off and was straightening his papers back where they were. In haste, Arthur glanced at his watch. They had an hour before their Extractor, Victor, showed up for the agreed assembly time. He was at a loss—knowing what spurred it on but he wanted more time with her. (And to keep her from going over to sit on Gavin's desk and flirt because…well, Gavin was clearly trouble and he needed to keep her away from trouble. So said Miles.) "Actually, I was fixing to go on a coffee run since we have some time. Would you like to come with me?" It wasn't a date. Two co-workers could have coffee. Two comrades could have breakfast in each other's company.

"I would but Gavin just got here." Was she kidding? "I'd feel rude if we both left."

There were two available options. One: He could go along himself and leave her and the Chemist alone in the workshop. Two: He could invite them both. "He's welcome to come too."

"I'll ask him." She nodded enthusiastically and traipsed off. Angry at himself for not only inviting the Chemist but coming up with a spur of the moment breakfast outing (which Ariadne was the cause of dammit), he shut his laptop emphatically, shoved his wallet into his pocket and yanked on his jacket.
xxxxxxx

Unfortunately, the Chemist had an unhealthy addiction to caffeine and jumped at the opportunity to join them. Arthur was sure there was plenty of preparation Gavin could do that morning instead of accompanying he and Ariadne but he wouldn't micro-manage on the technical first day of work. The two grabbed the outerwear needed and the Point locked the door before leading Ariadne down the sidewalk to his car. Jingling his keys, Gavin grabbed a flame-blazed helmet off of silver handlebars, "I'll follow you guys."

Both Arthur and the girl twisted to nod affirmatively. Ariadne gasped, "Whoa, wait. That's yours?!"

Gavin slung his leg over to straddle the seat of the black and red Ducati motorcycle. "Yeah! Ever been on one?" Typical. Typical, typical, typical. Of course Mr. Italian Model would have a motorcycle. What, did he smoke cigars, have twelve tattoos and eat meat raw too? Arthur's recon on Russo should've been more extensive. The Point's dark eyes slid over to Ariadne's face to gauge her reaction. Feminism's avid fan would surely roll her eyes at this guy and his evident pass. Wait, no signs of that? The Architect shrugged, "I mean one of my friends back in Paris has a little moped but—"

"Hop on," and out he held the helmet as Arthur opened his passenger door for her. Like an unspoken competition.

"Are you—"

"Serious? Yes, you'll love it." How would that buff know what the Architect would enjoy? He'd known her all of one day. Ariadne looked questioningly at the Point. Sort of like a 'would you mind it terribly if I blew you off even though you specifically asked me to come with you because I wanna ride on the back of bad boy's bike even though he wasn't even technically invited?' type look. Or Arthur thought, anyway. To his credit, no annoyance showed. He closed the car door and walked around. In his rearview mirror, he scrutinized Gavin while he placed the protective head gear on Ariadne's head and she straddled the bike behind him. When her arms were pulled around Gavin's waist and he mouthed something that looked like, "Hold on tight," Arthur revved up his engine and stepped on the gas. It was like watching a poorly executed, cheap, romance film. You know, the one where good girl goes to Italy and has a summer fling with the rebel Italian heartthrob and there is no deeper subplot or character arc.
xxxxxx

Gavin also beat him to opening the door for her, "Ladies first."

Please. It was always the gentleman type character who did such things. Gavin was no gentleman…the Point caught him eyeing Ariadne's lower half while she walked in front of him. Self-satisfactorily, Arthur took advantage of the Chemist's fake manners and allowed him to hold the door open as he passed through as well. Putting Arthur right behind Ariadne in line to order. Between them, so the Italian native couldn't ogle her butt anymore. "Medium French vanilla latte with soy milk and cinnamon and a chocolate croissant, per favore."

The Point Man appeared behind her before the register could ring her up and stated in his best Italian, "I'm paying for hers as well." A black leather wallet surfaced from his back pocket; his fingers sifted and pulled out bills non-chalantly. "Arthur—" He saw the vase of short stemmed tulips, freshly picked, with a sign declaring that you could take one if you left a tip. He stuffed a flower in his outer breast pocket and dropped five euros in the jar, dismissing her protests, "We're going to hold up the line if you insist on arguing."

The Parisian sighed, "Forget the croissant then," and received a nudge.

"Anything for you sir?" asked the waitress.

He nodded. Looked over the glass case of pastries and breakfast sandwiches, "One large coffee, black. An egg and sausage biscuit—and the chocolate croissant." Arthur handed the worker the money he took out and told her to keep the change. Then, waited down the counter for their food, listening to Gavin order while Ariadne picked a table.

He found her outside under a green and white umbrella checking emails or texting on her phone. The Point set their tray down and placed her food in front of her, his in the place he chose to sit across from her and then put the tray up. When he returned she was holding up the croissant purposely for his view, "Seriously?"

"You always thank me in the most ungrateful way possible," he badgered but grinned.

"Sorry." Ariadne thought about it and grimaced. "I do appreciate it. It just always makes me feel bad…like I'm putting you out or something."

The Point shook his head, "I asked you to join me with the intention of buying your breakfast." As an afterthought (or not so much said the part of his brain that decided to get one), he picked the flower from his breast pocket and handed it to her. "We haven't seen each other in a while. I wanted to do something nice."

The Architect twirled the lavender tulip between her thumb and forefinger. Gestures like this made it seem like squashing down her fascination with the Point Man would be as difficult as backpacking across the globe with crutches. Because he could be so damn thoughtful and sweet five percent of the time and the five percent was potent enough to momentarily make up for the other ninety-five. Sighing, she placed it on the table next to her plate and stirred her beverage.

Any hope of further conversation with the Architect was killed when Gavin joined them. It only made sense that he and Gavin would sit across from Ariadne but Gavin chose to sit next to her and rest his arm on the back of her chair half the time. Where did he get off thinking that was ok. They were practically strangers. And the guy was an outright attention whore. He talked non-stop about his adventures in Spain, his personal taste in tv shows and the 'most intense' jobs he'd ever taken. All in efforts to impress the girl, of course. Shockingly, Ariadne acted interested. Like Barcelona and Game of Thrones and a triple layer job with sub-security and the rest of his team dead (that had to be an exaggeration) were actually topics of great significance. Half an hour (a half Arthur mourned he would never get back) into the history of the Great Gavin Russo and his antics switched to engaging Ariadne in a (cliché, if you asked the Point) game.

What the Chemist did was lay a twenty dollar bill on the table and tell Ariadne she could keep it if she could grab it faster than him. He had her hold her hand six inches from the bill and he held his three above hers. He told her to watch his hand and when he moved to go around hers all she had to do was slam her hand down. They played four times and she was astonished that she couldn't slam her hand down before he could maneuver his around and under hers to grasp the bill. "How do you do that?" She glanced at Arthur like she was asking for an answer or seeing if he was as flabbergasted. Please. None of this impressed him. The Point Man had had enough of her amazed demeanor. When Gavin laid the bill back out and put his hand up high again, Arthur set out his hand where hers had been and looked her coolly in the eyes. Not stern or mean but simply bored and bemused. Like always. "Ariadne, the key is not to—" The Chemist's hand struck but Arthur beat him to it and bested him at his own game, "—think about it."

Well…on second thought…her amazed demeanor was agreeable when it was geared towards him. "Damn, Mr. Miagi…"

"When you focus too hard on the task and anticipate your opponent's movement, your reflexes slow. You sabotage yourself."

Let's hope Arthur would follow his own advice.

Xxxxxxx

She's so dangerous, that girl is so dangerous.
Take away my money, throw away my time.
You can call me honey
But you're no damn lover, friend of mine.
–Dangerous by Michael Jackson

What do we think of Gavin? If you're curious who I use as his face claim it is on my profile under elaborations and 'With You'. Are we sensing some jealousy? Even though Arthur doesn't know that's what it is yet? This my friends, it where our story starts to get good. Lol.