Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.

Arthur paced his office. He knew Ariadne had been trying to put him at ease, make him feel that he didn't have to feel uncomfortable. But he did. He didn't like being put in a position where he felt the students would mock and giggle at him.

He sat down, running a hand over his head. His hair felt too loose, too floppy, and he felt as though he were dressing up. Frowning, he reached for his desk drawer. He always kept a spare tie and a tub of hair gel in his desk, for emergencies. Sitting up, he deftly knotted the tie, after buttoning up his shirt. He then reached for his comb, slicked it with gel, and ran it back through his hair. He ran his hand over it. Maybe everyone would think he was uptight, but, he thought, he now felt more comfortable.

There was a tap on the door. He looked up. "Yes?"

Cobb entered. He blinked as he saw Arthur. "Hey...thought you were a little more casual this morning?"

The words were said in a friendly manner, but Arthur scowled. "No. I don't do casual, you should know that." He opened a file on his desk, and pretended to be immersed in it. Cobb frowned, and walking over, shut it.

Arthur looked up. "Excuse me."

"Arthur, what's going on?" Cobb asked. "I'm hearing things, and to be honest, I don't like them."

"Such as?" Arthur felt his irritation flare up. It never ceased to amaze him how Cobb treated him like a minion, when he was meant to be co-running the school.

Cobb frowned. "Well, like you going to Ariadne's class, and then running out of it, and her having to bring you back-"

Arthur felt his cheeks flame with embarrassment. "Who told you?" He felt both defiant and embarrassed.

Cobb bit his lip. "It was one of the students. Listen Arthur, you need to think about the impression is gives. Ariadne is a new, and relatively inexperienced teacher. She needs to feel supported by us, not that the Vice Principal is going to run out on her!"

"I didn't," Arthur said, through gritted teeth. "I tripped over an easel that she's left! What would you do in a situation like that?"

"I'd make a joke out of it!" Cobb said, smiling. "So would Eames! Just to show that you're relaxed, and-"

"Well, I'm not!" Arthur snapped. "I'm not relaxed! I'm the uptight one on this faculty, remember?" He re-opened his file and buried his face in it. Cobb blinked, slightly stunned.

"I'm sorry you feel like that, Arthur," Cobb said, quietly. "I'm going to lunch. Remember, you're always welcome to join us all. You don't have to hide in here."

"I'm not." Arthur's voice was muffled. "I'll be down soon."

"Good." Cobb smiled and left. Arthur stared at the sheets of paper in front of him, watching them dissolve into dancing numbers. He looked at his watch. Half twelve. Lunch did seem a good idea.

Arthur looked round the cafeteria. Groups of students were sitting at tables, eating their lunches and talking. He swallowed. Cobb had started to insist that the staff eat in the cafeteria, with the students. He wanted to encourage more of a "family feel."

"Bloody dysfunctional family," Eames had muttered. Arthur bought his chicken salad and a yoghurt from one of the servers, who tutted and tried to feed him the lasagne, but he turned and began scanning for somewhere to sit at the staff table. His heart sinking, he realised that there was only one space left, next to Eames.

And opposite Ariadne.

He seated himself. Suddenly, he realised that conversation at the table had dulled. He looked round, puzzled.

"So, as I was saying, tests are a load of bol-Artie!" Eames turned, and grinned. "Got out of your ivory tower to sit with us mere mortals, did you?" He thrust another forkful of overcooked lasagne into his mouth. Arthur swallowed and prepared to eat his salad.

"Arthur," Mal said, pointing her fork at his lunch, "you really need to eat more! My husband relies on you!"

"Yes," Eames said drily. "We need you to make sure we all teach to an acceptable standard!" He winked at Ariadne. "Need you to make sure that we do our job properly!"

"Well, you know what they say, Eames," Arthur said, defensively. "Those who can, can. Those who can't teach. Those who can't teach, become Vice Principals and wander around spoiling everybody's fun."

A sudden silence descended. Arthur, blinking, realised that his attempted joke had fallen flat. He thrust a mouthful of salad into his mouth, trying not to meet anyone's eyes.

Ariadne spoke. "You changed your hair."

He looked up. "I did."

"Art teachers," Eames said, drily, "notice everything."

"Listen," Ariadne said, looking at Arthur tentatively, "The picture...its still in the art room. Come pick it up!"

"I will," Arthur mumbled. He felt hotly conscious of eyes on him.

"A picture?" Eames asked, his eyes glinting. "Of Arthur?"

"Yes," Ariadne nodded. "He posed for me in for my students."

Eames grinned. "Was this in a state of und-"

"Oh, look at the time!" Arthur interrupted. "I have to go!" Grabbing his half eaten salad, he got up, and hurried away from the table. Ariadne looked after him, and shook her head, sadly.

"I'm beginning to think he doesn't like me," she said, looking at her plate. Eames smiled.

"You need to try and get him alone," he said, suggestively.

"Alone?" Ariadne frowned.

"Yes," the drama teacher said. "How about you ask him on a date?"

Aridane looked at Eames. "You know, I'm tired of him running away." Her voice was forceful. "I think I need to!"

"Or maybe..." Eames said, grinning, "Arrange for him to have a detention?"

The Art specialist smiled. "Even better!"

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