orangetoughguy | phone post

So you're simply removing the both of you from the environment, is it.

[ Eames watches the burning tip of Orange's cigarette with a bit of a quirked brow. ]

Very reasonable.

[Suckin' that white column down like it's going out of style.]

Why. You got a better idea?

None worth the energy of activation, anyway. [ There's a roll of Eames' broad shoulders here, casual and uncommitted. ]

What's that mean? You can't leave me hanging.

[Actually yes Eames can but that doesn't mean Freddy has to lay there and take it.]

[ Arthur walks up in time to arch a brow at the last sentence, but he doesn't offer any commentary of his own. Adjusting the bag that is not a purse, he pauses a few steps below them, not looking at Eames or Orange as he instead checks his watch. ]

Still early.

[ He says mostly to himself, thoughtful, wondering why Orange is early too. Huh. Er but they seem to be short one-- ]

Where's Mister White?

[ This seems a more worthwhile question really. ]

[ Half turning to greet Arthur ~~and his man-purse, but that's okay because it holds his laptop~~ with a flick of his lips before turning his attention to Orange. ]

Not noon yet, Mister Orange says.

[Just suckin' on a cigarette here. Freddy looks over at Arthur then back to Eames. This must be the associate. Fortunately for all involved Orange doesn't think too hard on the similarities between the teenager and this guy. For one, Arthur didn't show up in a sheet.]

He'll be here.

[Finally that cigarette's done for. He drops it to the step and nods to Arthur.] We haven't meant, officially. [Then back to Eames.]

You didn't answer my question.

[ Anyone who shows up anywhere in a sheet, well, Arthur would rather not meet them. Arthur himself is dressed down - which is to say expensively creased trousers, oxford shirt, tie, and a sweater that fits. Being shy of telepathic however, all Arthur is actually thinking for the hundredth time is how weird the names Orange and White are, though White less so.

Oh well.

After the barest nod hello to Eames, Arthur offers his hand to Orange. There's probably no need for formality but if he has to categorize the meeting somehow it's closer to business, so a handshake is in order anyway. ]

Arthur. [ His smile is not forced, though it is extremely short-lived. ] And now we have.

[ Firm handshake done, it's followed as fast with a polite withdraw as Arthur this time glances at Eames again, a flicker of interest in what the question was but more or less waiting to see if Eames answers it after all - whatever it was. ]

[ Eames watches the interaction with some vague curiosity, though mostly focused on Orange than anything else - his reaction, what kind of handshake he has, so on and so forth. Anyway, tipping his head a bit at the man's drawforth back to his original point, he hums. ]

I never said they were particularly good ideas, anyway - it's much better to take a peaceful approach to it, for you both. I suppose I'm just a bit more interested in getting to the heart of it.

[Maybe out of all of them Freddy is the most dressed downedest...he's got a t-shirt that looks a little big on him (because it's actually Larry's shirt) and some jeans that fit close enough to the leg to appear young but still loose enough to allow him room for a concealed firearm strapped to his ankle. Oh and then there's that super thin lightweight 90s flannel worn open. Today it's orange and no that's not meant to be a pun.]

Arthur. [Firm handshake is firm, confident and unafraid as well as unaware of the fawn's identity.] Orange.

[He lets go with ease then looks back at Eames.] Digging in for the sake of digging, I gotcha. Don't forget what I said. "Mommy said we have the same mouth."

[Have Freddy's best attempt at sounding like a precocious child.]

[ Listening, filing the dialogue away even though he knows Eames will as easily remember it all later too, Arthur doesn't so much as blink, though his head tilts to one side as his gaze slides from Eames back to Orange. The conversation isn't entirely lost on him but his brow lifts perhaps remarkably high at the 'said' portion. Same mouth. Right. All they're missing here are air quotes. Really. He clears his throat absently, shifting his weight once, turning away from both of them to glance around for anyone approaching their minuscule assembly, letting Orange and Eames continue their back-and-forth uninterrupted, having nothing relevant to interject with.

Then his device makes a sound so he slides it out of a pocket on the side of the bag that is not a purse. The Bag That Is Not A Purse. He scowls. More porn.

Seriously what kind of curse is this?

He doesn't want to know what part of whose brain this is coming from at this point. They have an acronym for this in 2010.

T M I.]

[ Eames snorts out something of a huff of a laugh, pursing his mouth slightly in thought. ] Well, I've a doubt it'd get to such a point. Besides, we've no inkling toward her motivations, anyway. With as many people at her disposal, she'd have many of her own by now, don't you think?

[ The beep of Arthur's device catching his attention, he casts a glance over, taking in his scowl. ] Not yours, too.

[He gives that beeping a look but doesn't make an effort to see what's going on on his device. All for the better, who knows if Eames is on it AHEM. Now back to that other guy, Freddy upnods.]

Women can be way fuckin' deliberate. You think they all pick dads because they love'em?

[That's some kind of backhanded compliment or something, Eames. Like why wouldn't Saya want genes from White, Orange, and possibly Eames for her super spiderchild??]

[Here he comes. And for fuck's sake he's not late is he? ...is he? He moves on in not like a wolf or a shark but in his kind of self assured stride. This man means business. Like his associate, in whatever means, Mr. Orange he's smoking a cigarette.]

Gentlemen.

[Eames and...Mr. Argyle. They've spoken before. Mr. Argyle is his name just as much as Mr. White is Larry's name. Times like these it's vital. Here they are getting wrapped up in a whole new mess with different strangers.]

Been happening all day. Like some kind of network-wide virus. Waste of space.

[ He replies critically as he deletes an influx of images, links, and whatever else, pausing only at Orange's words. It seems as though he might say something about it, and if he actually got to it, it would be to agree with the implication: no, they don't.

But then up comes the fourth to their ensemble so Arthur stows his additional opinion and nods to White who, for the record, is quite on time - right on the nose. ]

Mister White.

[ How much of a schedule they have to keep, he's not sure of these three, but he is sure the library won't appreciate smoking indoors so he doesn't make any motion to continue climbing the steps, paused between where Orange and Eames stand and White finishes approaching. Judging from White's attire, it's likely he came straight from the casino.

So... ]

On break?

[ There's a quick flash of his fingers as Eames greets Larry's approach. He thinks, distantly, it's a good thing the buildings here in the city don't actively regulate any 25-foot law, otherwise White and Orange might have an entirely different set of inconveniences to deal with. ]

Kind of you to join us, White.

[ With everyone present, though, Eames doesn't dally around for introductions, turning on his heel to begin his ascension up the last few steps toward the library. ] Shall we?

[An upnod to White.] Hey.

[It's bad enough a lot of these places don't allow smoking indoors. What's up with that? Shit the modern world's a little too clean and polished for him...but they also have the internet. Win some lose some, Newendyke.]

We ready to go?

[Green eyes glance between Larry and Arthur and back to Larry. This is Fawnthur, it's okay he's cool so far, don't look like he bites, too unhygenic an act in those clean clothes.]

Edited 2011-09-07 04:01 (UTC)

[Hardy-fucking-har Eames. He doesn't even dignify that kind of a comment. Nod to each man like it's no thing. There was supposed to be a later departure but shit happens when you're employed.]

Don't stop on my part. Let's get down to business.

[And then get the fuck out. So far so good, and this is working with people they have no clue about. Visa versa. Let it be known though if bullets fly, Mr. White is gonna be well prepared. Library or no library. He drops his cigarette and crushes it under toe.]

[ A gunfight in a library is not the most farfetched likelihood in a dream; Arthur has seen it happen though he woke up in a foul mood afterward anyway. Still, everyone seeming on the same page and bullets the last thing on his mind right now, he pauses only a second as if re-acknowledging everyone (or just noting new details) before climbing the rest of the steps until he's a step ahead of Eames as well, passing through the library entrance.

They have rooms here for this sort of thing, which doesn't make it all that different from other libraries or communal informational centers. Arthur nods and murmurs a well-mannered hello to the front desk agent who smiles brightly in return - probably not used to people saying anything other than 'where can I find--'.

It's a quiet quick pick to one of the rooms and he enters ahead, unshouldering the bag and sliding the laptop out on the table at the far side of the too-small space. ]

If you all plan on sitting, someone grab another chair.

[ This room has two. Arthur would rather stand. ]

[ Eames, not being a generous fellow, takes one of the two chairs for himself, booting up the laptop and pulling one of the two discs from the inside breast pocket of his tweed jacket, sliding his nail under the plastic to pop open the case. Popping in the DVD, he waits for everyone to get situated appropriately - extra chair or no - before starting the video. It's an off angle view but still captures their targets - White and Saya, though more importantly the rest of the room too, where he'd slotted both security camera feeds next to one another on the same screen and attempted to enhance it best he could. Not having the best of programs for it though, and the feeds themselves being so low quality, there was only so much he could do - lightening it up from the dark atmosphere of the bar, sharpening this or that face depending on which he found to be important when originally going through the copies.

Anyway, the scene goes on, Eames only speaking up now and again to point out the bartender's behavior - obvious attraction - and how it ends up barreling into the intent staring that while that itself is curious (and awkward) it's Saya who, while it remains impossible to not notice in general, seems to be perfectly at ease with it. It's particularly after certain points of time where everyone's behavior seems to sync in - increased agitation, figiting, glancing toward Saya and White, and White's eventual departure. Saya, in the end however, doesn't end up leaving alone - choosing one gentleman, then soon followed by others.

The room doesn't seem to settle even after her departure, though, as though something in their mind has been turned on for some indefinite period of time. After awhile further, though, he reaches out to pause the feed with a tap of the key, leaning back in his chair. ]

[At some point he had to openly praise the way the video was cut and enhanced, mentally slotting the specialty away in his mind. Only people who get into a particular line of business know how to do that and he doubts Eames works the information technology divison for law enforcement. Some way or another Freddy also got himself a seat too. It may or may not be one of the more plush chairs from the outside reading areas and not the media rooms. Either way it fit in the media room and now he's in it with one leg over the side arm. He's just about to light a cigarette when that leg comes down and he leans forward.]

Look at that. Did you fuckin' see that.

[Speaking around his unlit cigarette. Orange gestures to the emptier bar and the tail end of a man on his way out after Saya.] Fuckin' unreal, I knew she was up to something.

[He looks over at White now, not saying more but clearly conveying: that could've been you.]

[Seeing as he knows what happens in the video for the most part, Mr. White hangs back. No he isn't going to pop a cap in anyone without just cause even though he's feeling agitated. Fucking City for making things like this happen. It's personal and revealing. What the fuck else are they supposed to do?

He eyes Mr. Argyle who seems to be Eames' back up in case of conflict. That was wise. His mind automatically goes through scenarios of violence. It's how one stays alive. It doesn't escape his attention that Mr. Eames is very efficient at this video editing shit.

Oh. There we go. He leans on forward watching himself leave. Now he gets the whole view of the bar. Huh.]

Kinda like she's some kind of Pied Piper.

[Though it looks like it ain't anything special. Fuck. One positive thing, he sure didn't get drugged or make any kind of moves on her.]

[ Still standing as per his preference, Arthur watches with crossed arms and a neutral expression that gets interrupted at certain moments by a slight shift in his gaze or a pinched brow - what was that -, his mouth pressed thin. It aggravates him to go on nearly nothing, but it aggravates him even more to know that in the scope of a dream's environment they are dealing with the literal incarnation of Everything and Anything.

The way it appears, when Orange comments - on Saya, not the video editing (Arthur rolled his eyes at that) - Arthur agrees with what White says, though that's not nearly enough again.

He reaches past Orange to hit the spacebar, throwing the last seconds of the tape into pause, then straightens again. The glance he sends Eames is brief, easily written off, but there's a question tucked into it - what do you think? ]

Deliberate and multiples.

[ The first part is harder to prove but the tape says enough, he thinks. It's a dry observation, little more, because he's thinking that knowing what happened to any of these guys would be helpful but they don't have any names and the remaining bar occupants are all strangers so it's not like any of them here recognize the gaggle of followers.

Arthur turns his focus to White, a sharp directness. ]

But you...resisted. [ There are worse words, really. ] How difficult was it?

[ As Arthur glances at him, Eames focuses his own gaze right back at him with the sort of intent that could be anything, really, but to Arthur says later. Anyway, leaving the point to address White, Eames slouches forward, bracing his arms on the table as he cards through different timeframes, focusing not on Saya and White but instead on the different patrons of the bar, cataloguing faces - more importantly, the way some stare directly at Saya in a manner that's that chilling sort. It's not, Eames thinks, unlike that of a projection when it locates the dreamer - that sort of deeply internalized sort of want, though in this case much more for obvious reasons than their usual circumstances, when projections want not to get into your pants but perhaps to rip your legs off entirely.

It's happened before, anyway. ]

Did you want her or did you just want?

They looked fuckin' possessed, bewitched, some kind of Serpent and the Rainbow shit.

[Whoa whoa seriously? Okay he knows those are legitimate questions but Freddy can't help looking a little agitated when he hears them. Let them believe it's his lack of cigarette ever since they ventured inside. He'll keep up this charade by playing with the unlit nicotine stick (white column, whatever) and let Larry do all the talking there. It's his testimony anyway.]

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