poly_chromatic | ( audio ) & ( action )

][ A U D I O ][

Two kinds of weekends seem to repeat - this kind and the ones where there's a ton of curses going on at the same time.

[There're probably more - in fact he's sure there's more than one or a handful of others that have repeated but he keeps circling back mentally to these two as regular offenders.]

Not sure of the connection except more craziness than your average City day.

[Le shrug. On the outside. Burning wood. On the inside. Patterns usually mean something. But that might be the grasping of straws, pitfalls of wanting logical things in illogical places.

There's a pause and a buffered sound like a thumb brushing over the array of device buttons, ready to turn it off when he pauses.]

Does--

[--then he stops himself. Why would they be here? And he's the one who got rid of them in the first place, memories he must have decided didn't matter. And full name disclosure is stupid just about anywhere.

The device shuts off without any follow-up.]

][ A C T I O N ][
[Nothing stands between Arthur and espresso. Through rain or shine or largely unmanageable masses of strangers, he will have that iced latte with five thousand shots. Yes he will. Also he needed to get away from all of the cookies for a while, in that out of politeness he's been eating everything Ariadne's mother puts on the table. Anyway he's en route back to the house but he's taking the long way.

It's not quite masochism, his barely self-admitted searching for familiar faces - living and not living. How much time has passed where they come from? Is Dominick Cobb okay - okay being relative. What about James and Philippa?

Is Mal somewhere about, and if so, which version might he run into?

And would he accept either one, a betrayal of her honest memory but he misses her and that was always the thing about Dom's shade who seems to be able to ghost around the City on her own; she was very (too) convincing. Arthur isn't afraid of strangers, isn't worried because this not being a dream presents less paranoia than a dream originally would. To that point, Arthur isn't afraid of many things, period.

But mostly it's the handful of people he used to know.

He detours down a block that will lead him past more of the smaller shops, sipping his drink suppressing the quiet anxiousness of waiting for something that might not happen at all.]

[ ooc: internet connection's doing the off-on thing /_(\ but wanted this up ;; - annnd per 4th wall usual, anything goes ! ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Soooo...I take it the 'it's the City' argument won't work.

It would, but I'm looking for something...a little more specific.

[ He tilts his head at her having gotten to one edge of the sidewalk and a closed shop, which means he can stand still and stop giving poor Mae sea-sick camera vision. ]

Aren't you?

[ Who wouldn't want to know more about their situation, he has to wonder, but then he thinks of the people who are happy to stay here indefinitely and he supposes it's too hard to generalize. ]

Sounds familiar.

[Always specific.]

I don't know. Yes? Yes, I would - I suppose, I do have that morbid curiosity to know why a girl from Exeter would be thrown into the same place as astronauts and wizards and what not. [She might be deliberately selling herself short. Or she just might be aware that, stripped of all things related to the Circles and the Ryves and Jamie, she's just that. A girl.]

But then again, what if I really don't like what I find?

Not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing...

[ He tries to discern from her tone but still isn't sure. Familiar can be both, he supposes. ]

Well there's always that possibility. Probability even, considering the way this place runs like a rollercoaster.

Depends on if you'd rather go on not knowing, I guess.

[ And while he can understand the stance on that, he tends toward wanting to know these days - whether it's a likable truth or not; even facts here seem more screwball than anything though, so he's not sure it'd make a huge difference in the end. ]

Ignorance is bliss and all that crock, right?

[She shrugs.] It's a complicated question. Requires a complicated answer. And thought.

Something like that. Never bought into it.

[ Played into it a couple of times but that's considerably different and not his finest hours...to say the least. ]

Yes, and yes. [ He pauses, eying her quietly a moment. ] You okay?

Me neither.

[She pauses. All the pauses.] Yeah, sure. The weekend's almost over, but - I'm...fine.

[ Swapping it to audio as he begins moving again, trying to navigate the crowds as seamlessly as one can, ]

Sorry, figure audio's less likely to make you motion-sick.

[ Again there's the pause; he's not so sharp with people as perhaps some of his colleagues - Dom (ex-colleague, he supposes and that is as it should be), or Eames. But sometimes, if he lets it, transparency makes up for his shortcomings there. He presses, ]

'Fine'? ...you sure?

[ The skepticism is hardly veiled and beneath it there's a sort of immediate implication of: you don't have to be.

He wonders if there's something better to say here and can't come up with it, so he waits, just the buffered sound of crowds in the background and what it is to choose to be outside on a weekend like this. ]

How considerate.

Yeah, I'm sure, Arthur, don't worry! I couldn't be happier for having my brother here. I'll be devastated tomorrow, but that can happen then.

I have my moments.

Well. [ He's not sure what to say to that. On the one hand, Arthur greatly appreciates the honesty here, something of a double-standard he has though he fails to recognize it often enough. With Mae, Arthur finds himself in the same boat as he is with most people here. He's not Eames or Ariadne or even Yusuf, not quite able to cut in with an anchor and hook into a person or a people even if he wants to. It's like he's forgotten how longer than a job works, what that window of time even means for people and how caring factors in. But he knows he does care and it's enough to not let it drop there, to say, ] I'm glad they're here now.

But if you want something...or someone -- you know, a distraction or whatever...tomorrow.

[ Any day, he supposes but doesn't say. ]

Or the day afterward. Whichever. I mean.

[ I'm not... he frowns, fingertips pressing hard on the device's angles. ]

I know it's not the best. Stuck in your head with things...that're out of your hands.

That's all.

[ Not the best or clearest reply but he's trying to say any number of things - about caring, about thinking it would be bad and wrong to leave Mae on her own when this matters as it does to her. About how if he can do anything for her, well, why wouldn't he? And so on. ]

[He doesn't see her faltering behind the device, nor does he catch the way she looks towards where her friends are, with the dread only someone waiting for their imminent disappearance can have.

Nor does he catch the way her expression softens at the subtle offer and the understanding - not a pat on the head, nothing condescending, and she likes that, she thinks - she could like a lot more than just that. She grips the device for a second, then relaxes.]

You should be grateful for not being around right now, I think nothing could save you from being hugged.

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