matrixrefugee (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
matrixrefugee) wrote2011-06-11 02:21 am
matrixrefugee) wrote2011-06-11 02:21 am
Entry tags:
[Inception] "Right-Hand Man" (PG-13)
Author's Note: Written for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
comment_fic's "Inception, pre-Arthur/Eames, "Eames, this my point man, Arthur.""
"Eames, this my point man, Arthur."
The first two jobs that Eames had worked with Dom Cobb, he'd thought of the architect as the rookie, Miles's student: He had a head on his shoulders when it came to designing, but he was still new at the actual crime part in "mind-crime". He was cautious about rooting around in the subject's hidden files, and he was a magnet for attacks from projections.
It didn't surprise him, the next job that they worked, that Cobb hired some muscle to cover his back. But Eames had not expected that muscle would come in a pretty package. This "Arthur" practically had "distinguished gentleman" on a nametag on his waistcoat. The linen dress shirt and the neatly creased black dress slacks had probably been tailored specifically for him. The perfectly knotted tie vanished into a waistcoat that neatly encased his slim torso. A slightly broad but not too broad face with boyish features. Not a hair out of place on his neatly groomed head. The kind of tosser that Eames loved rumple, however he could: if it didn't end with the bloke's expensive togs crumpled on the floor of Eames's hotel room, he could always rumple the bloke's composure during a practice run in the dream world.
The question was, would this pretty boy be able to handle a swarm of projections, or would he crumple the minute they got hit by an armed gang of sub-cons?
He found himself eating those thoughts once they went under for a trial run. When they least expected it, and with Cobb's prompting, Eames's mind unleashed several thugs armed with pry-bars to attack their point man. To Eames's shock, the pretty boy fended them off: he'd clearly had some kind of jiujitsu training at some point, and he fought off the sub-cons with a coolness and a focus Eames hadn't seen since he'd gotten into dream-sharing.
By the time he knocked out the last of the thugs, the new guy's waistcoat had pulled away from the waistband of his trousers, showing the ends of his suspenders.
"Not bad: Yer hair didn't even get mussed," Eames remarked.
"I'm glad that my appearance meets your approval," Arthur replied, coolly, darting a questioning glance at Cobb.
"Don't take him seriously: he does this to everyone," Cobb replied.
"Not everyone: just the pretty ones," Eames added.
comment_fic's "Inception, pre-Arthur/Eames, "Eames, this my point man, Arthur."""Eames, this my point man, Arthur."
The first two jobs that Eames had worked with Dom Cobb, he'd thought of the architect as the rookie, Miles's student: He had a head on his shoulders when it came to designing, but he was still new at the actual crime part in "mind-crime". He was cautious about rooting around in the subject's hidden files, and he was a magnet for attacks from projections.
It didn't surprise him, the next job that they worked, that Cobb hired some muscle to cover his back. But Eames had not expected that muscle would come in a pretty package. This "Arthur" practically had "distinguished gentleman" on a nametag on his waistcoat. The linen dress shirt and the neatly creased black dress slacks had probably been tailored specifically for him. The perfectly knotted tie vanished into a waistcoat that neatly encased his slim torso. A slightly broad but not too broad face with boyish features. Not a hair out of place on his neatly groomed head. The kind of tosser that Eames loved rumple, however he could: if it didn't end with the bloke's expensive togs crumpled on the floor of Eames's hotel room, he could always rumple the bloke's composure during a practice run in the dream world.
The question was, would this pretty boy be able to handle a swarm of projections, or would he crumple the minute they got hit by an armed gang of sub-cons?
He found himself eating those thoughts once they went under for a trial run. When they least expected it, and with Cobb's prompting, Eames's mind unleashed several thugs armed with pry-bars to attack their point man. To Eames's shock, the pretty boy fended them off: he'd clearly had some kind of jiujitsu training at some point, and he fought off the sub-cons with a coolness and a focus Eames hadn't seen since he'd gotten into dream-sharing.
By the time he knocked out the last of the thugs, the new guy's waistcoat had pulled away from the waistband of his trousers, showing the ends of his suspenders.
"Not bad: Yer hair didn't even get mussed," Eames remarked.
"I'm glad that my appearance meets your approval," Arthur replied, coolly, darting a questioning glance at Cobb.
"Don't take him seriously: he does this to everyone," Cobb replied.
"Not everyone: just the pretty ones," Eames added.
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I liked it a lot.