MILEY CYRUS TO PLAY ANNIE IN 'GET YOUR GUN'
"We know how much you wanted to be in a western." Said Ivory. Jayne's goal was to be in every genre of film. Annie Get Your Gun would add the genres western and musical to her resume. Jayne scratched her neck.
"Well… I can't win everything, can I?" she said. "That'll keep her busy for a bit… besides, it's going to suck now. I bet that girl can't even figure out how to use a gun."
"It's possible." Said Lucy. "I mean, she is a Hillbilly."
"True." Jayne turned the computer off. "Besides, it doesn't matter. It would have been nice for the director to call me and tell me I didn't get the part, but I guess there's no etiquette in her. Besides, I have better news ladies."
Ivory's ivory face glowed. "You got the Broadway role?"
"Fuck yeah!" Jayne hooted. "I'm going to play the female lead in Dance of the Vampire. Did you know that 'Total Eclipse of the Heart' was originally written for that musical in the sixties? Bonnie Wright stole it."
"Well, I say this calls for a celebration." Lucy pointed out. "Who's up for Outback?"
Jayne chuckled at her Australian friend for suggesting an Australian restaurant. "Sure. But you're buying."
"So how'd it go?" Eames asked as Ariadne rose from the beach chair.
"Went fine." She responded quickly and went back to her work station.
"It's perfect." Said Duke. "She'll have to teach you the layout later."
"She'll have to teach you the layout later." Those eight words echoed through Ariadnes ears and raced down to her heart. Arthur was gonna go down there eventually! What if that projection was still singing love songs on stage? What if Arthur saw him? How would Ariadne explain it?
"Well it's official." Said Arthur. "We're flying into New Orleans in a couple of days. That means Ariadne needs a fake ID."
"Why do I need a fake ID?" Ariadne asked grumpily.
"So if Cobol decides they want to chase after you, they'll have a harder time finding you." Said Yusuf.
"That's Arthurs fault." Said Eames. "He got the last architect killed."
"What?" Ariadne burst.
"Don't listen to him." Said Arthur, trying to soothe her. Ariadne didn't know how that man controlled his temper but he was good at it. "Nothing's going to happen to you because you'll be watched by one of us at all time's. And the client is merciful."
"What did they do to the other architect?" She asked hoarsely, sounding like she was near a panic attack.
"I don't know." Said Arthur honestly. "But it's not happening to you."
Ariadne sighed. "I know this job is dangerous… I've been to Limbo for God's sake so I don't know what I'm afraid of. And no, it's not because Halloween is in a few days… and Halloween was terrifying in my home town." Bast jumped onto her lap and curled into her chest.
Duke walked across the wide room over to her desk. He pulled up the chair next to hers like he was an expert on women. Ariadne looked at him as if expecting him to say something comforting as she caressed Basts head.
"Here's something that might help. If the client was someone merciless like the men at Cobol, he wouldn't have called you to be the architect, no matter how skilled you are. He would have gotton someone else instead of put you in more danger." He said. "You're not the only one."
"Am I the only woman?" she questioned. "Because most men consider that to be a big deal when really, it isn't."
"From what I know, yes." Duke pointed out. "And you're right; women aren't being taken as seriously, especially in this business. We have to be extremely careful."
"I learned from Mal's mistakes." She said. "And if I hear any sexist remarks while I'm here… let's just say you do not like me when I'm angry."
"I'll keep that in mind." Said Duke. "But I'm pretty sure everyone in this room knows better."
Ariadne nodded. "Yeah, sorry. I just had a small heart-attack."
"Look up here." He said. "You see what I'm doing?"
Ariadne observed what Duke was trying to do and saw he was moving his ears like a hippos. "Where did you learn to do that?" she asked giggling.
"Ah, I made you smile! I saw a smile!" he bragged.
"Well I didn't know a person could do that."
"It takes three years of practice at the fanciest university in France." He explained. "Very few people can do it. So you have any body talents?"
Ariadne chuckled. "Uh… This might sound gross because it is. I can put my fist in my mouth…"
"Look at him." Eames told Arthur. "He's totally hitting on her."
"Will you relax? They both know better."
"But she's giggling." Said Yusuf.
"Any of us can make her do that." Said Arthur.
"She's shoving her fist in her mouth." Eames nudged his head towards them. Arthur turned around disobeying his own conscious to look. Ariadne had all her fingers and knuckles past her teeth. The moment she saw he was watching, she pulled her fist out blushing.
"I should not have done that." She said. "Oh, how about this? Can you make the bones in your ears pop with your jaw?"
"Can a person do that?"
Ariadne closed her mouth and brought her jaw down as low as possible while keeping her lips sealed. Duke heard two little pops.
"You gotta teach me that." He said. "That look's like it takes real talent."
"Well, middle school was very boring."
"They look like they're bonding." Eames whispered. "Hey Ariadne! What do you want you fake name to be?" He had to go out and get her an ID anyway soon so it was a good excuse to break the conversation.
Ariadne's eyebrows rose. "Uh… Go with Olivia Darling or something innocent sounding like that."
"Got it!" Eames put his thumb up. Arthur didn't bother to look at him. Yusuf could see obvious messages on Eames face; he was going to do whatever it took to find out if Arthur returned any feelings. And get him with Ariadne. "Oh by the way, happy birthday Cavandar!"
"It's tomorrow!" She growled. "It's the twenty-seventh today."
"Tomorrows your birthday?" Duke asked. "How old are you gonna be? Nineteen, twenty?"
"Twenty-four." She corrected him, turning pink again. "And it's not a big deal. This is more important."
"I think she likes him." Said Yusuf to Eames. "Never heard her laugh so much."
Arthur sighed and continued to jot down notes with his Louis Vitton pen.