Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.
Arthur took a deep breath. "I think your hands are...in the wrong place, Robert."
The older man glared at him, haughtily, but pulled his hand away from Ariadne's knee. She looked at Arthur, and smiled, gratefully. He nodded, and looked back at his plate. His steak was still hidden under a mound of congealing sauce. Sighing irritably, he stabbed it with his fork.
"So, I think the SAT results could be the best ever..."
Arthur downed his wine and checked his watch. Half past nine. He sighed, his eyes wandering to where Robert's hand kept inching towards Ariadne's knee. He tried to be interested in Dom talking about SATs, and gestured to a waiter.
Eames looked at him and smiled reassuringly. Arthur raised an eyebrow, and tried to think of a topic of conversation.
"So," Dom said, noting the pause that had fallen over the table. "Anyone having dessert?"
"Oh, yes, I think so," Eames commented, reaching for the menu. Robert looked at him, and smirked.
"Don't you ever worry about over indulging, Eames?" There was an unpleasant undertone to his voice that made Arthur frown. Robert leaned over. "I mean, it all catches up with you...sooner or later."
Eames looked at Robert, and smiled calmly. "At least there's something of me to love, Robert."
Ariadne stifled a giggle. Robert scowled slightly and leaned back in his seat. Arthur fiddled with his wine glass. Robert's pale face was turning paler. Ariadne reached for a dessert menu.
"I think I'll have cheescake," she announced, and Mal nodded. "Good choice."
"So, is everyone ordering something else?" Arthur was beginning to hope they wouldn't - he wanted this excrutiating meal to end. He sighed with annoyance.
"What's wrong?" Ariadne asked, looking at him. He blinked.
"Nothing...I'm just tired." He gestured to a waiter. The man came over. "Yes, Sir?"
"Can I have ice cream please, and a cappuccino?" The waiter nodded, and as he left, Arthur yawned slightly. The long day, tension, and alcohol were beginning to catch up with him.
Robert smirked. "Oh, you poor thing. Past your bedtime?"
Arthur turned to him. "Meaning?"
"Well, its a hard job, being Vice Principal." Robert smirked and reached for his own wine glass. "You have to breathe down students' necks, and colleagues' necks...its must exhaust you, Arthur. It must be so much like hard work."
Arthur glared at him. "And hard work is something you wouldn't know the meaning of, right?"
Robert narrowed his eyes. "And what is that supposed to mean?"
Arthur took a swallow of water. "I mean, hard work is not something you really do, Robert. Let's be honest - the only reason you deign to teach a couple of days a week is because otherwise your father would cut you off. He really didn't want you just sitting around and spending his money, did he?"
Robert leaned back in his chair. "Well, maybe, but at least I have money, Arthur. I'm not in the position of having to grubble away for the rest of my life, working as a Vice Principal, because otherwise I'd starve." He smirked. "Tell me, Arthur. Are your parents proud of you?"
Arthur swallowed, wishing he could think of something suitably cutting to say.
"Now, gentlemen," Eames said, affably. Suddenly, the waiter appeared. On a tray were four slices of cheesecake, and a dish of icecream. Slowly, self-consciously, he put the cheesecake slices in front of everyone, except Arthur. A dish of vanilla ice cream went in front of him. He swallowed, and picked up his spoon.
Silence began to descend over the table again. Suddenly, Robert spoke.
"Why did you go into teaching, Arthur?" His voice was smooth. "Was it so you could enjoy being in an institution with rules for the rest of your life? Or was it-" his eyes glittered - "so you could try and trawl among the female staff for a wife?"
Arthur swallowed. "Excuse me?"
"Well, you must find it very hard to get out." Robert was grinning. "You're so dedicated to your job, Arthur. You spend all your time slaving away in that office, or teaching. You must need some time to get out. I, on the other hand, have the time to look for someone to spend the rest of my life with." He turned to Ariadne and lifted her hand. "And, now, let me ask you. Do you believe a man should be able to provide for a woman? Because I can provide for you." His hand was on her thigh again.
Ariadne blinked. "Robert, please-"
"I'm just asking. Should a man be able to provide?" Robert appeared to have completely forgotten that the others were at the table. He leaned over, smiling at Ariadne. Arthur swallowed. The man reminded him of a shark. He still had his hand on Ariadne's leg.
"Robert." Arthur's voice held a warning tone.
"Arthur." Robert's tone was condescending. "Why don't you mind your own business? I'm here, with a very attractive young woman, and you can't handle it."
Eames broke in. "Robert, I've been a bit brazen in my time, but-"
"Eames." Robert turned and looked at him. "Stop it. Arthur can stand up for himself. Now, I'm going to leave a $100 on the table, and then I'm going to take Ariadne home." He pulled out his wallet.
"Robert, I can make my own way home," Ariadne protested. "I can-"
"Oh, come on. My Porsche is parked outside." He smiled at Arthur. "How did you get here? Was it be the bus?"
Arthur narrowed his eyes. "No, it wasn't."
"Of course. You make yourself feel better." Robert turned to Ariadne. "Come on, let's-"
Suddenly, he yelped. With a sleight of hand, Arthur had sent his dish of melting ice cream straight into Robert's lap. The older man looked at him, furious, as the sweet mixture began to spread and stain his expensive suit.
"Oh dear," Arthur said, casually, "looks like someone needs to go to the men's room!"
Choking with fury, Robert grabbed his napkin and left the table. Eames was grinning, whilst Dom and Mal looked at Arthur in surprise. Arthur stood up, smiling, and turned to Ariadne.
"Well," he said, pleasantly. "May I take you home? I don't have a porsche," he added, "but its not a pumpkin, either!"
Ariadne blinked, then smiled. "Yes. Please do."
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