Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.

"So," Arthur said, stretching out a long leg, "talk to me."

"About what?"

"Your fantasies." He took another bite of croissant, delicately licking up the crumbs - a movement that held her attention. "What do you think about?"

She blinked. She had not expected him to be quite so direct. "Well, I-"

"Come on Ariadne." He was smiling. "I found you dreaming...fantasising, remember?"

She blushed. "Yes, you did-"

"So, I'm intrigued." He took another bite of croissant. "What do you think about?"

"Well-"

"Me taking control?" He was smiling now. "Or is it you taking control?" He finished the croissant. "You've brought me into dreams of your fantasies, but isn't reality better?"

She swallowed. "One fantasy-"

"Yes?" His voice was gentle. "Talk to me." He had brushed the crumbs from his hands, and reaching out, took her fingers, gently. "Let me into them."

She smiled. "Well, I did think of you and I meeting for dinner."

"Right."

"Except - we wouldn't know each other."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "The old strangers meeting at midnight routine?"

She blushed, and suddenly felt defensive. "You think its dull."

Arthur shook his head. "Did I say that?" He raised an eyebrow. "No." He carefully massaged her fingers with his. "Don't assume what I'm going to say, please. I like to surprise."

She couldn't help but smile at that. "Well, we wouldn't know each other, but you - you would take-"

Arthur was starting to nod. "Oh, I see." A grin was beginning to spread across his face. "I see." He raised an eyebrow. "I think we can do this."

She swallowed, her nervousness beginning to dissipate. She reached for her coffee and took a sip. "When?"

He leaned over, and kissed her forehead. "Tonight?" He smiled at her. "I can make reservations."

"All right," she breathed, suddenly realising that her fantasy was turning into reality...and he was prepared to indulge her. "Will you-"

"Let you know where? Of course. Now, its nearly half eight."

Ariadne blinked. "We should get going."

"Absolutely. Don't want the others wondering where we are."

She bent dilligently over her desk. Arthur walked over, and handed her a scrap of paper. He smiled, and walked away. She blinked, and looked down at it.

Troccaderas. 8pm. Wear something you like. A.

She blinked. Troccaderas? It was expensive. Swallowing, she folded the paper, and put it in her pocket.

She suddenly felt unsure, uneasy. Biting her lip, she pressed on with her work. It felt as though the power balance was shifting again in their relationship - he was in charge.

Smiling, she decided on her outfit for the evening.

Arthur sat in the restaurant, his martini untouched. He smiled to himself- waiting for Ariadne was something he was prepared to do.

Eventually, the door opened, and she walked in.

He blinked. She was wearing a long lilac beaded top, over jeans. He blinked, and looked down at himself. Due to the nature of the restaurant, he was in full evening dress.

As the Architect looked at him, she gasped slightly. "You look-" she swallowed. "I-"

"I thought you wanted me to pretend we didn't know each other," he reminded her, mildly irritated. "Sit down."

"I-"

"Sit down."

Ariadne did so. The slight feeling of nervousness was being replaced by longing.

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