Blundering over a Bored Blonde
It was quiet and sedate for a Friday night in a hotel and Robert Fischer was sat alone in its low-lit, sleekly designed bar.
His blue eyes kept flicking over to a woman sat in a booth, also alone. She pushing the ice in her drained glass with a straw and she was devastatingly gorgeous. It was as if someone had made taken all the most beautiful and precious ingredients in the world, swirled them together and from this mixture she was born.
Her make-up was flawless and her blonde hair bloomed out of her scalp like a halo. Her skin was the colour of opals. It created a stark contrast against the her black, satin slip dress with thin straps and it hinted at every curve beneath its soft material.
But her beauty was not the reason why she had caught his attention. When he had first entered the room about twenty minutes ago, he had blanched at the sight of her and literally stopped in his tracks.
Robert was sure knew her and yet he was fairly positive he had never met her before. His mind been flipping over and over itself trying to recall if he had seen her through business or if she was a friend of a friend but he came up with nothing. He felt like he was trying to grab on to the tail end of a dream.
He had to know who she was because his inability to remember was irritating him like an itchy wound. He stood up and made his way towards her. She kept her head down, playing with the ice in her drink.
His shadow cast over the table and he waited a few moments for her to look up. When she didn't acknowledge his presence, he said gently, "Excuse me, Miss?"
She looked up. He watched her run her hazel eyes over him and she gave him a polite but obviously forced smile that showed all of her straight, white teeth.
"Hello, my name is Robert Fischer."
"That's nice," she drawled in a husky voice, tossing back her mass of silky blonde hair.
"May I sit down?"
She made a vague gesture with her hand and he slid himself into the booth.
"It's just, erm, I was wondering, if we had ever met before?"
Her eyes rolled over his face again and she kept her own blank. "I don't think so."
"Are you sure? I just have a strong sense of Déjà Vu when I look at you."
She raised her left eyebrow and said in fed up tone, "Do you?"
Robert nodded. "It's just I feel like I know you. Like, erm…" He cleared his throat, aware of how ridiculous he was about to sound. "I think I dreamed about you-"
She let out an airy laugh and it vibrated right through Robert's body.
"You know," she leaned forward slightly, her eyes fixed on his. "I have heard many, many flirting clichés but that has to be the worst."
Robert broke in. "I'm not trying to flirt with you. Really."
"Uh-uh." She placed her elbow on the table and propped up her chin with her hand, as if her head was about to drop off.
"I-I am just trying to work out who you are." Robert cast his eyes down to the table. "You must be aware how lovely you look and that you make a strong impression when you walk into a room. And I really just want to know where I have seen you before because since I first saw you, I haven't thought much about anything else."
He looked up and kindly smiled at her vacant, pretty face. She wasn't even looking at him.
He coughed to get her attention and her eyelids fluttered. She glanced at him, bored.
"Look, Robert, is it?"
He nodded.
"You seem like a sweet person but I am not interested. You bore me. I prefer men with a bit of edge, bit of...imagination."
Robert saw her eyes glaze over and a wicked smirk creep on her face. She stared into nothing for a moment and then snapped back to reality and continued in her throaty voice, "In fact, if you had said nothing, you would have an better chance of getting my number."
"Alright." Robert moistened his plump lips and cautiously said, "Well, could I have your number so I can have another shot at it?"
He looked up earnestly and she sighed. She brought up a black, beaded clutch bag onto the table. She flipped it open and pulled out a pen. She scrawled out some digits on his hand and then lifted herself up from her seat in one elegant motion. With another smile, she picked up her bag and clattered away.
He looked at the inked digits on the back of his hand.
"Five, two, eight, four, nine, one," he murmured and then sighed. He realised it was an incomplete number and he furrowed his brow as more familiarity stirred within him. He watched the blonde float across the room and slip out of the room and quelled it quickly.
He really had just been chasing a dream.
Allo *waves* Written for the Inception Kick Meme because... well it's really late or really early but it's got to the point where I didn't want to sleep and I'm gonna shut up wittering. It's just drabble but made with love.
Prompt: Eames bases his projections on real people. ProjectionGirl!Eames in reality is (up to the anon - Russian Model, CEO of Google, etc.) Fisher meets her, feeling a fleeting sense of Deja Vu. This time, it's her who's bored and unable to pay attention to him. Bonus if you can sneak in the numbers (528491.
And I did. yay! :)
I forgot to put a 'Thanks for reading' *feels so guilty*
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING *HUGS* Txx
Disclaimer: Nolan owns.