Eames leaned back in the wire chair of the café and exhaled with bliss. He knew that when the business of dreaming finally ran its course and it came time to retire he would pick Paris to settle down. No where else in the world could one get food so brilliantly prepared. Of course, he reminded himself, retirement would probably be short lived since the foods he found himself most drawn to were bathed in butter and a clogged artery would likely be his undoing. Oddly ironic considering the amount of close encounters with sharp things and bullets he had had.

Yusuf sipped his wine slowly, "Arthur is going to be pissed we stopped for lunch you know."

Eames shrugged, "Wouldn't be surprised if we beat them there mate, no way Ari will want to head straight there. Lord knows she's got to be a bit hungry herself and did you see those shoes? Quite uncomfortable if worn for more than a few hours, take my word for it."

Yusuf's brows furrowed together, "This is Ariadne we're talking about. Something tells me she's the type of girl who would skip lunch and gladly sustain a blister for work without a second thought."

Eames shrugged, "Well it's not as if they'll get far without Cobb anyway."

"Speaking of which, where has he been?"

Eames shrugged indifferently but had been wondering the same thing as well. Dom had wandered off shortly after their arrival in the city and hadn't mentioned where he was going or for that matter, when he was going to be coming back. They had expected to see him at the graduation but he had remained absent. In fact, the only contact they had had was the short text message he had received the night before explaining he wouldn't be able to make dinner. Eames had pondered if perhaps their extractor had decided to abandon the mission and retreat back to the states but that didn't sound like Cobb's style, especially considering the stakes. Still, something nagged at Eames's senses, there was wrongness in the air that was clinging to him, whispering in his ear to be on alert. He looked across at the chemist who was gazing out at the individuals on the street. Yusuf wasn't a fieldsman, more importantly he wasn't a thief or the type of individual who could recognize if they were being tailed or not. His eyes followed his line of sight and watched for those who would be watching them, attempting to appear casual and much to his annoyance nothing struck him as being out of sorts.

Eames scratched his chin and sat his credit card on the check. "Think we should be heading that way about now."

Yusuf nodded, "Probably not a bad idea. Who knows, maybe Cobb is already there."

A waitress glided over and collected the check hardly acknowledging the two gentlemen. She was of average height and weight and gifted with dark hair and heavy lidded eyes that left the impression of a daydreamer for an onlooker. Eames studied her saunter as she moved towards the cash register swipe his card. Her hips sashayed in perfect timing, almost as if she assumed he would watch her, which, he reminded himself, he was. He pictured slowly undressing her, capturing her lips with his own, imagining the flutter of eyelashes as she arched and squirmed when an alarm sounded in the back of his mind and he pulled himself from his reverie. Now was not the time for such distractions, such things could mean the difference between a bullet between the eyes and a narrow escape. And, like clockwork it was then that he noticed the man in the grey three piece suit three tables over.

On his way back to his hotel the night before Eames had begun pondering the whereabouts of certain individuals in his past that still wandered around Paris now and then, something he chalked up to resulting from walking passed the now closed night club.

One of the first conversations Eames could recall having with Arthur was in regards to peripheral vision. This topic had come up after Arthur had accompanied Eames to a casino in the Bahamas three years earlier. Arthur had disappeared early during their trip only to be rediscovered as king of the poker room a few hours before the dinner buffet opened. Eames, up until that point in time had reluctantly donated every clay chip he had come into possession of. During dinner that evening Arthur had invited him to an Omaha tournament that would be taking place an hour after they finished their meals, giving them enough time to freshen up beforehand. Eames had agreed, hoping that the tables would change his luck up a bit.

…Oh, how wrong he had been.

The buy-in had been ten thousand American dollars, chump change really. The caliber of player however, had much to the thief's misfortunate, read him for what he was and had disposed of him quickly. Feeling disparaged and oddly downtrodden, he wandered to a bar and drowned his losing streak in gin and tonic water, with a slice of lime to sting the wounds. Arthur had joined him an hour later, a handful of neatly stacked chips landing on the bar before he took a seat.

"Won the whole thing then?"

"No, third, I'm a bit rusty unfortunately."

"Payout?"

"Five, not too bad I guess."

Eames was in disbelief. "Well at least we know now you're indeed human, I mean only third and five hundred thousand…" he leaned in and Arthur leaned away, "Tell me your secret mate, how do you do it?"

Arthur motioned for a drink and cleared his throat, "Practice mostly. I've been playing poker for a while now."

Eames was unimpressed by this answer. He had known a variety of swindlers and gambler. Each had tricks that had given them an edge over the house. Arthur of course, wasn't playing against the house but against other people. "Come on then, what else?"

Arthur sipped his drink, took a deep breath and then rattled on for nearly two hours straight about different techniques he applied to the poker table. Eames, having already indulged in four gin and tonics processed less than forty percent of what was being said. There was information on knowing when to fold, when to raise over the top, when to bluff, and how to read your opponent. Somewhere in the midst of the poker drabble Arthur mentioned honing his peripheral vision. According to him, people were a lot less careful when they assumed your gaze was focused somewhere else. Only later, when they had been working a job and he had watched the now seasoned Point Man put this skill to use did he himself bother to learn it. Granted, he was never as good as Arthur was, he had been able to spot a few sets of prying eyes, managing to sidestep traps waiting to be sprung on him or colleagues.

As he accepted his credit card back from the waitress he made a mental note of the trap that was likely waiting for them around the corner of the café. Eames glanced at Yusuf. Though he had not spotted him at the graduation, Eames had suspected Antoine of lurking close by, but then again, he had always suspected him of being not too far behind when they were in Paris. Of course, the man in the three piece suit could also belong to Asagi, a lookout put in place to make certain that the job they were intended to do was done effectively but that was not how it felt, no, this man belonged to Antoine, the way he sipped his tea, the way he folded his napkin, everything down to the way he buttoned his suit screamed Antoine.

Eames fought his initial reaction which warranted leaving the chemist behind and retreating himself, doubling back at a later date to collect Yusuf who would likely have no clue precisely what had occurred in the brief interval of the thief's absence. Eames liked Yusuf, enjoyed his company immensely, considered him a master of his craft, but gave him very little credit as far as tactics and skills in the field actually went. True, he had kept them out of harm's way on the first level of the Fischer job but after a night of drunkenness in Vegas, he had admitted that had been pure luck coupled with horrid driving more than skill.

Eames chewed his lip and focused his gaze forward; watching from the corner of his eye for any movement from the man in the suit but there was none. The waitress slid into view again leaning over a table, her ample chest all but in the male patron's face. Eames scratched his chin once more. He reasoned he could have been making everything up. It wouldn't have been the first time that he had sensed a tail when in fact it had nothing more than his own shadow that had been his pursuer. True, the man could belong to Antoine, could be following them, but could know nothing about Asagi or the current contract. His face sunk into his hands and he inhaled the scent of his flesh trying to clear his mind.

Though he had said nothing, for the first time in ages he had dreamt a true dream the night before. It had been a startling dream, more of a nightmare really. After all, it had been years since he had allowed himself to imagine what she looked like, allowed himself to ponder exactly what Sofia's lips would feel like against his own once more. And when her tiny form had pressed against his own, pulling him from his conscious mind, when he had forgotten that he was dreaming, that had been when she had cut his heart out and he had awoken with a start. Now even the slightest movement from someone out of place seemed suspect.

"Are you all right man?" Yusuf asked, "Heat getting to you or something?"

Eames groaned, he parted his fingers and gazed over to where the man had been sitting but he was gone, having moved on, Eames assumed, to bigger and better targets. "Being paranoid that's all."

Yusuf nodded absently, "Well it seems appropriate, that man you've been eyeing kept looking over here at us. Don't suppose Asagi is having us followed do you?"

Eames felt his jaw drop slightly, "You noticed him also?"

Yusuf chuckled finishing off his glass of wine. "Of course I noticed him."

Eames rose slowly, setting his napkin on the table, "I don't think he belongs to Asagi, I think he may belong to someone a bit more dangerous. Best we split up mate. I'll meet you at the warehouse. Don't suppose you're carrying a gun?"

Yusuf smiled and pulled his tweed coat back where three capped surgical needles were holstered in a hidden pocket. "No gun, but I prefer it my way."

Eames cocked an eyebrow. That was twice the chemist had surprised him in less than two minutes. "Very well, five minutes, evade as best you can."

Yusuf nodded, "Of course, you first. Oh, and good luck."

Eames cocked a smile and shoved his hands into his pockets starting in the opposite direction of the warehouse. He plucked a cigarette from a case and pressed it to his lips lighting it as he rounded a corner. He paused just long enough to catch the man in the gray suit and two others walking towards him. "And to what do I owe this pleasure gents? You see I have a bit of an appointment to keep so best we make it quick."

The man in the gray suit retrieved a switchblade from his pocket and snapped it open. "We've been sent to deliver a message. He knows Asagi found her, and he won't be having you or your friends get in the way of stopping him in reviving her."

Eames felt his throat constrict…Antoine had found Sofia.

The man in the gray suit lunged at him. Eames snapped from his reverie and dodged, delivering a sharp blow to the back of the man's head. The other two moved forward but Eames wasn't fazed. He dodged and struck knocking them unconscious before they realized what had hit them. The cigarette which was now little more than ashes fell from his mouth onto the cement. He shoved his hands back into his pockets and tried to wipe the fear filled look from his face.

They were in trouble. Antoine was back in play. After four years of silence, the dark king had pushed them into check.

A/N: Sorry it took so long for an update, I've been well, slightly indisposed for the last seven months. Anywho, it seems Antoine cut the crew off at the pass so Asagi is no longer an issue, instead they must stop him from waking up Sofia so that she can do what she does. Dun Dun Dun

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The Fratelis: Chelsea Dagger