Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.
"OK," Arthur said, flicking through the menu again. "What will it be?"
"Tuna, please." She swallowed. "And can I have...the dauphinoise potatoes?"
"Yes, of course." He nodded, pleased that she seemed to be intent on eating something substantial. He gestured to the waiter, who wandered over.
"Could we..." Arthur began. A few moments later, the waiter was walking away, and he reached for Ariadne's hand, gently caressing it.
"See?" he said, smiling. "Not so bad."
She nodded. "No, it isn't."
A silence fell. Arthur lowered his eyes to the table, she reached for her water glass. As she took a sip, he tried to relax. Carefully, he picked up his own glass.
"Want some wine?" he asked, lightly.
Ariadne raised her eyebrows. "Trying to get me drunk?"
"No..." Arthur bit his lip, slightly embarrassed. He was not intending to get her drunk - but if it worked as a relaxant...He shook his head. They were in a dream. The impact of alcohol could be interesting. He gestured to the waiter.
"Sir?"
"A bottle of red wine, please." His mind was racing. Ordering wine could be the trigger to get her to relax - and then perhaps open up further about this. He smiled at the waiter, who nodded.
"French?"
"Please."
Ariadne watched as the waiter left. A silence fell, and neither seemed ready to speak. Finally, he did.
"This is pleasant."
"It is."
"I can't remember the last time I was out like this," he said, hoping the implied compliment would cause her to open up. "Being out, with a beautiful woman."
She was blushing. He smiled, and caressed her hand, gently. "I mean it."
"Well, I would never have got a date with someone like you," she said, shyly. He frowned slightly - this lack of self confidence was like a corrosive acid, eating away at even their most tender moments. He shook his head.
"Don't count on it," he said, firmly. "I was pretty gawky when I was younger." He swallowed. He could still see himself - pale, and sickeningly skinny. No wonder everyone had assumed he'd had an eating disorder.
He shook his head. Both he and Ariadne had faced nothing but condemnation when they were younger for how they'd looked. He took a sip of wine, reflecting. Even though he never gained weight, he was overly conscious of his body, and of what he put in it. And Ariadne...
A paralysing thought suddenly ripped through him. Were he and Ariadne any good for each other? Both shackled by their fears about their bodies, both constantly thinking that neither of them were good enough-
He sat up straight, the wine helping him reach clarity. That was the core issue. He still possessed a niggling doubt that he was attractive, despite his winning admiring glances on the street. He covered it with expensive suits. He was still acutely aware of his body, often checking that he was not looking too thin, or pale.
Because, he thought, wasn't that what he'd always been told - that he had to look strong, protective? And what about for her? What kind of cruel, subliminal messages had been picked up by the Architect over the last few years?
He blinked. Their food had arrived. She looked at it, hesitating, then picked up her fork. Arthur nodded, and reached for his own.
As she carefully cut into her meal, he tried hard not to watch. He noticed her put it in her mouth hesitantly, as though she was not really sure. But as she chewed and swallowed, he realised that she was starting to smile. He nodded, delighted.
"Good," he breathed. "Good."
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