Disclaimer: I do not own Inception. Reviews are not only accepted and encouraged but really positive ego buffers.
"I really shouldn't come in."
Ariadne stood in the door way, one hand on the knob and another lingering on to Arthur's hand. "You really should. You should so we can drink tea and eat macaroons and talk and sit in the sounds of silence together."
"That's one hell of a run on sentence," Arthur smiled.
She laughed, leaning her head against the oak door. "Please. I really want you to come in with me. And I know you want to. Don't pretend you don't."
"I'm not. I never said I didn't. I just really should not go inside there with you."
She let out a long sigh, not much out of agitation, not much out of exasperation. More like she was letting out her excitement from the night, from the date, from the exuberance of a perfect date.
"Does this have anything to do with what you mentioned at the warehouse?"
"I mentioned a lot of things at the warehouse," he responded nonchalantly, not wanting to walk further into what he deemed to be hall of mirrors. To see strange apparitions and look into the eyes of peculiar brass tacks that were just reflections.
"You mentioned something about us," she said quietly. "How we shouldn't be casually conversing. How it could be troublesome in the end."
Arthur nodded once, still wearing a grin, laughing at the situation in his head. "This would have a little to do with what I mentioned, yes. Why?"
"Did I ever tell you that every time I write a persuasive essay, no matter the topic, no matter the bullshit anecdotes I conjure up, I always manage to get a not only satiable but magnificently perfect grade?"
"You may have mentioned something like that once or twice if my memory serves me right."
"Right. So prepare for a flood gate of persuasion. Here comes my whole philosophical observation of this here predicament we're in. It's quite simple and quick so you have to listen out for it. Are you ready?"
His smile widened as he let out a small chuckle. "I think I can manage."
"If I'm not mistaken, Sir Arthur…you've already fallen for my fascinating and impeccable charm-"
The two broke out into animated giggles, both of their smiles so big that it reddened their faces.
"So," Ariadne continued breathlessly. "You, my dearest dear, are already in deep shit because now, no matter how hard you try to keep yourself away, captivated you will always take concerned you down. So why don't you just give in now?"
She gently pulled at the cuff of his shirt and he allowed himself to step into her domain.
"You didn't hear my number two, Monsieur."
She pushed herself against him, holding her head close to his, hey eyes on his mouth and her lips barely moving.
"What is your number two, Mademoiselle?"
"Arthur, my dear, I'm quite smitten with you as well so I think it'd be in our best interest to see just how happy we can be in the other's arms."
He leaned his forehead close to hers and said in a clear, strong voice:
"I really shouldn't come in."
Cobb drums his fingers along the maple top of the table in the high society café as he waits for good news and relief to come through the door. Initially, he was happy to hear that Arthur wasn't dead but when he finally realized what the dubious Point Man would be up to, he wished that he were dead. That way, he could be protected from the many arduous and maniacal situations he'd put himself in. Cobb wasn't looking to protect the people that put Natalie and Ariadne in the places they were in today; he completely understood Arthur's need to take them and slaughter them in thousands, he just didn't want Arthur to be in the middle of the fiery hailstorm that is revenge.
A cool breeze crept into the café and Cobb's biting eyes darted towards the door. And even with Arthur on a death mission, Ariadne and Natalie in the ground, and his life never being the same again, Cobb had to smile.
"I don't know where I'm going," Arthur said to the mirror, his reflection staring back at him with fire in his eyes. "I know where I'm supposed to go but I don't know where I'm going."
His reflection asked him how he felt.
"Sick. I feel really sick. Killing that guy—"
It asked if he regretted killing him.
"No. I don't. I don't regret at all. Not a single moment. I just feel like it really got me nowhere."
"You weren't killing to find out who was at the root of this. Not yet. You're doing it to make them suffer. It's simple."
Arthur shook his head and made his mind one again. He turned the facet on, making sure the water was on the verge of searing and he looked back up at his reflection.
Say them to me...
"Kenny Detmer. Alan Darcy. Gaetana Bruni. Olesya Tomsk."
Arthur nodded at himself before beginning the rigorous clean up process. He recited those names to himself over and over again.