Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.

Arthur hurried down the corridor, trying to catch up with Ariadne before she vanished back into the Art room. Suddenly, he stopped. He could hear a voice.

"Oh, are you allright?"

Arthur took a deep breath and began to count to ten. This was not good. He paused, and heard something in a female voice being mumbled. Gritting his teeth, he turned and walked back to the classroom, only for twelve pairs of interested eyes to look up at him.

"OK," he said, trying to stay calm. "Lets have a look at how you're going to begin your compositions. Work in pairs, and start discussing!"

Nodding, the students turned to each other. Arthur took a deep breath. He knew they wanted to know what was going on, but he wasn't prepared to make even more of a fool of himself. He picked up the whiteboard marker, willing himself to remain calm.

"Mr Ogilvie?"

He swallowed.

"Yes, Bethany?"

"Are you ok?"

Arthur exhaled slowly. He'd forgotten, due to spending so much time on administration, how students could be genuinely mindful of how their teachers felt, coupled with a large helping of nosiness. "Yes, Bethany." He turned, and smiled at her. "I'm fine. Now, who has come up with ideas?"

Ariadne swallowed, and looked at the man in front of her. He was tall, thin, and pale, with light blue eyes. She'd never really seen him before, and the lack of familiarity confused her.

"I'm Robert Fischer", he explained, smiling. "I teach Business Math and Economics."

Her brow crinkled. "I don't think I've seen you before-"

"Oh, you won't have," he reassured her. "I'm only part time." He smiled at her. "Do you want to get a cup of coffee?"

Ariadne bit her lip. "OK," she said, somewhat uncertainly. He smiled again.

"Great. Let's go to the staff lounge, shall we?"

Arthur headed for the teacher's lounge, straight after the lesson had finished. He was determined to try and find Ariadne, and talk to her.

I'm sorry if I embarrassed you, he chanted in his mind. Feeling reassured in what he wanted to say, he entered the room, trying to keep calm.

Suddenly, he stopped.

Ariadne was ensconced in one corner of the room, holding a cup of coffee. Talking to Fischer. Feeling a surge of annoyance, Arthur swallowed and walked across the room.

"Hey," he said, casually. Ariadne looked up, and smiled. Fischer looked irritated.

"Oh, Arthur," he said, his voice masking his annoyance. "So good to see you. How was your summer? I spent it travelling around Thailand and Japan. Fascinating."

Arthur gritted his teeth. Fischer always had to make a point of reminding everyone that he didn't really need to work, and could quite happily live off his inheritance for the rest of his life. His job, he kept stressing, was merely something he did out of altruism.

"It was fine, thanks," Arthur said, through gritted teeth. "I spent most of it working."

Fischer snickered. "Of course you did. Poor you, having to keep working for a living."

Arthur's grip tightened around his mug handle. Would anyone notice if he threw his cold coffee down the front of Fischer's shirt?

Ariadne got up. "Listen, I have to go back down to the Art room," she said, quickly. "I'll catch up with you both later."

Arthur turned. "Ari, I-"

"Oh, I'm sure you've got some paperwork to do," Fischer interrupted. He smiled at the younger woman, the kind of smile that reminded Arthur of a snake about to pounce on its prey. "Listen, I was wondering if you want to go out for dinner tomorrow."

Ariadne swallowed. "Thats really nice of you, but-"

"I'll pick you up at eight," Fischer insisted. Ariadne cast a slightly worried look at Arthur, who was beginning to walk away. She bit her lip, and turned back to Fischer.

"Well, uh-"

"Good, its settled." Fischer spoke smoothly. "Is Fargo's ok?"

Arthur skulked around his apartment that night, cleaning the kitchen. It didn't need cleaning, but he felt that wiping it down was a simple soothing task that would keep his mind off the fact that Ariadne seemed to be getting fixed up with Fischer. As he angrily scrubbed at the countertop, the intercom into his flat buzzed. He slammed the cloth down, cursing under his breath. He pressed the button. "Yes?"

"Arthur, open up! I'm cold!"

Arthur sighed and pressed. Eames. After a few minutes, he heard a thump on the door. As he pulled it open, he found the drama specialist, who was holding a bottle wrapped in a paper bag. Arthur's eyebrows went up.

"Well, to what do I owe this pleasure?" he said, sarcastically. Eames looked wounded.

"Very simple, Arthur. I was in the neighbourhood, and thought you could use a little company."

Arthur tilted his head to one side. "How thoughtful. Why?"

Eames raised an eyebrow. "Well, it might just have something to do with Robert Fischer strutting around, crowing over the fact he has a date with Ariadne tomorrow. Thought you might want to talk about it?"

Arthur glared. He felt vulnerable, and snapped back. "Well, how nice. But I don't need help, or company." He turned, a scowl on his face. Eames swallowed.

"Look, Arthur." Eames was smiling. "You like her. You're clueless in these situations. Fischer, sadly, isn't. Now, how about you get two glasses, I pour some shots of Glenfiddich, and we discuss how you're going to sabotage this date, sweep her off her feet, and stop wandering around with a face thats making all the Twelth grade girls feel sorry for you?"

Arthur's eyebrows shot up. "They feel sorry for me?"

"Yes," Eames said, impatiently. "Now get the glasses, ok?"

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