DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN INCEPTION.

Really sorry about the lateness about this chapter, but every time I try and write something, something else comes up. So eventually I just said to myself "Right, I am GOING to finish the chapter!" And it's really hard because there's a bunch of chocolate muffins downstairs calling my name, but no! I have to write this! I shall make it up to you with some romance.

"Morning."

I nodded to Dad as I walked down the stairs. He gave me a quick glance, then walked past. I sighed to myself and gabbed my jacket. I decided to walk to the warehouse that day, as to avoid another awkward car ride.

The streets were quiet. Probably as it was a Sunday. I wasn't able to enjoy the weather as all I could think about was her. Talking about reality and worlds. What did she mean by that? Of course everything was real.

I suddenly had the urge to talk to Arthur. He said something about totems and how they can assure your reality or something like that.

"Phillipa," I heard a voice behind me. I turned around and saw Eames driving up behind me.

"Hi Eames."

He smiled and poked his head out of the open window. "Need a lift?"

I crossed my arms. "Didn't my dad say not to hang out with you? You're a bad influence you know."

Eames shrugged. "What daddy doesn't know, won't hurt him."

I hovered for a moment. "I suppose that's true."

Eames raised an eyebrow. "…Well I'm not going to wait forever."

I walked towards the car and jumped in quickly. I let my hands fall into my head as I breathed out.

"You look stressed love."

"Thanks."

Eames shrugged as the car pulled away. "Just pointing it out. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I sighed.

"….I'll leave it then."

I hovered over Arthur's desk, waiting for him to arrive. I didn't really feel like talking to anyone apart from him. As I looked at his desk I realised there was a slight normality about him. Contrary to my belief, I thought there would be colour coded files, lined up stationary, everything alphabetised. But instead, there were papers thrown elaborately onto the desk, unsharpened pencils, and there seemed to be no particular order to the desk whatsoever.

"Hi Phillipa."

I turned around and saw him standing behind me, clipboard in hand. He looked serious, as if I had made no major social breakthrough with him.

"Hi," I replied.

"Can I help you with anything?" he asked politely.

"I…um, not really." I turned to walk away, feeling stupid, but I felt a gentle hand on my arm. I tuned around and was met with those damn eyes that take away all your attention.

"Phillipa. I'm so sorry about yesterday," he whispered, with genuine honesty in his voice. "I never should have left you, or snapped at you."

"Arthur, it's fine. It wasn't your fault."

He sighed. "But I keep feeling like it is…" His eyes trailed across my face. "How are you? Do you need to talk about it?"

I shook my head. "No, I'll be fine. In fact, I'd kind of like to forget about it."

He paused for a moment before nodding and realising my arm. I let it hand limply by my side as he turned his attention to the clipboard he was holding. I took a moment to stare at him. He had line lines around his eyes, probably from exhaustion or marks from working hard. They aged him slightly, but he countered it with his dark eyes and confidence. Admittedly, he was very attractive…

I felt a furious blush crawl across my cheeks. I couldn't think of Arthur that way. I refused. For god sake's, it was my dad's business partner.

He looked up from his papers. "You alright?"

I nodded, a little too quickly. "Yeah. Fine. So, what are we doing today?"

He smiled ever so lightly, it almost wasn't there. "Research. On the Mark."

Fun, my inner self muttered. "Oh."

"Don't worry, we're going out to do this. He's having lunch today with a business partner, and we're gonna go follow him."

"Oh!" I repeated a little more interested. "When are we doing that?"

He looked at his watch. "20 Minutes, in La Nuance."

"La Nuance?" I repeated. "Did you make a reservation?"

He shrugged. "No."

"Then how on earth do you expect to get in?"

He smirked slightly. "Trust me Phillipa. I'll get us in."

When we arrived, I deeply wished I had worn something other than my jeans. Arthur always looked like he was going out to a business meeting.

I looked down at myself and sighed. I must have been a little loud though, as Arthur turned around and looked at me.

"Don't worry," he assured. "You'll get in."

"Oh yeah?" I rolled my eyes.

He nodded. "Of course, they always let beautiful women in."

Oh boy.

We walked in and I don't think I'll ever understand how one man could act so calm and collected as Arthur does. I trailed behind him as he walked right up to the woman at the entrance. He smiled at her. It was then that I figured out how we were going to get in.

The woman behind the desk took one look at Arthur, then one look at me, and I had the sudden urge to slap that stupid look off her face.

"May I help you?" she asked Arthur, decieding to ignore me completely.

"Yes, we were wondering if you could fit us in for lunch."

She half rolled her eyes at him. "Do you have a reservation?"

"No, but…" he leaned forward, and she obviously did a double take at the suave man in the suit in front of her. He smiled. "…My sister here is about to get married soon, and I was taking her out for a celebration lunch. Maybe you could fit us in?"

She looked at him for a moment before clearing her throat. "Follow me please."

Arthur shot me a quick smirk before following the woman into the other room. I followed, dumbfounded. As soon as we were seated and that bitch of a woman disappeared.

He looked down at the menu like nothing was different. I cleared my throat, causing him to look up.

"Sister?" I asked, eyebrow raised.

He shrugged. "Old trick to get in. She needed to know that I was available."

"Why?"

He glance up again, smirking. "She needed to think she had a chance."

"…Does she?"

He chuckled quietly at the back of his throat. "Not a chance. Not my type."

I considered asking what his type was, but he looked up and his expression changed into a sort of blank.

"Our mark has arrived," he said in a low voice. "Don't turn around." He looked tat me for a moment. "Have you been doing the research I set for you?"

I nodded. "Of course."

"Prove it."

I swallowed. "Daniel Carter, 43, CEO of Dexam Indrustries. Divorced, has one son, Michael. We're extracting what new company merging plans he has."

He nodded, somewhat satisfied. "Good. Now, I'll be right back." He stood up and disappeared quickly. Despite instruction, I turned around and saw Carter walking to the bathroom, Arthur a few feet behind him.

I sighed to myself and looked down at the menu. The golden engraved words La Nuance Est à Venir from the menu danced across the page. As I looked up, I swear to god, the woman at the front desk was sneering at me. I had to restrain myself from giving her a rather rude hand gesture.

Interesting: There is a hidden message in this chapter. Guess what it is and I'll give you a virtual high-five.