[ Smell things. Hm. Arthur is, for a split second is equally divided between that previously stifled mortification and a staunch annoyance, the latter of which wins out and he flattens it back to neutrality, which just reads as a lift of his brows, a quirk of the corner of his mouth as he bows his head for a second. Smell things. Arthur isn't sure exactly what those things were, assuming himself discrete enough at least until the other man had him up against the wall with the brick doing an unforgivable number on his jacket, as if the graveled blocks were itching to get through the fabric the same as White's teeth. He couldn't help his own reaction, but he'd felt badly enough about it afterward and it hadn't seemed to bear bringing up until he'd realized the multitude of things it could mean if they stayed working in the same space - emulating a reality even if Arthur knows it isn't.
'Knows'.
Anyway here they are, smoke curling on into the air like a good excuse for the pauses they both are taking advantage of, but there's no sudden tension which Arthur takes as a good sign.
'Mostly' isn't as sure a 'yes' to him as just 'yes' would be, but factoring in his own reaction, he still doesn't blame White in the least. It's more the relevance of his choice of target. Glancing up again, he smiles briefly, a wry thing. When he lets himself, he knows he likes White, could probably like Orange too, and though he's never been wanting of friends (he'd never seemed to need them, and then when he had them he felt he didn't need anyone else - a mistake he would make twice and unrepentantly) he appreciates the relaxed feeling here.
How much of this is just the dream's suggestion, and how much is theirs? He hates not knowing and he can't bring himself to believe the fiction of another world. Is White real somewhere, and to which dreamer? He and Orange are indicative of different decades than Arthur and Eames are from, but they seem fleshed out enough to be cognizant. It's confusing. At least the trust issues make sense, a common sense of paranoia not exhibited in their conversation so far but it's enough sometimes to know it's harbored somewhere underneath.
Realizing he's been staring a moment, Arthur blinks, turns his gaze to the side briefly at nothing in particular. ]
Okay.
[ He sits up straighter before leaning back, a slouch he can as often be caught in as upright and poker faced, but he tries not to if it's business because it tends to make him look smaller. This isn't business though. It's just talking as he adds, half to himself, half to White, ] Good to know.
[ Then he clears his throat. Thanks, I just wanted to know. That's what's on the tip of his tongue but in the end what makes it out is, ] That the weirdest thing that's happened to you here?
[ In all honesty Arthur's mostly expecting White to say 'no' because a dozen ridiculous scenarios already present themselves in his head, but it's good to get someone else's gauge for 'weird', especially someone who's been 'here' longer. Asleep, part of the dream, both, whatever. Leaned back into the plush of the couch pillows as he is, Arthur tilts his head slightly. ]
no subject
'Knows'.
Anyway here they are, smoke curling on into the air like a good excuse for the pauses they both are taking advantage of, but there's no sudden tension which Arthur takes as a good sign.
'Mostly' isn't as sure a 'yes' to him as just 'yes' would be, but factoring in his own reaction, he still doesn't blame White in the least. It's more the relevance of his choice of target. Glancing up again, he smiles briefly, a wry thing. When he lets himself, he knows he likes White, could probably like Orange too, and though he's never been wanting of friends (he'd never seemed to need them, and then when he had them he felt he didn't need anyone else - a mistake he would make twice and unrepentantly) he appreciates the relaxed feeling here.
How much of this is just the dream's suggestion, and how much is theirs? He hates not knowing and he can't bring himself to believe the fiction of another world. Is White real somewhere, and to which dreamer? He and Orange are indicative of different decades than Arthur and Eames are from, but they seem fleshed out enough to be cognizant. It's confusing. At least the trust issues make sense, a common sense of paranoia not exhibited in their conversation so far but it's enough sometimes to know it's harbored somewhere underneath.
Realizing he's been staring a moment, Arthur blinks, turns his gaze to the side briefly at nothing in particular. ]
Okay.
[ He sits up straighter before leaning back, a slouch he can as often be caught in as upright and poker faced, but he tries not to if it's business because it tends to make him look smaller. This isn't business though. It's just talking as he adds, half to himself, half to White, ] Good to know.
[ Then he clears his throat. Thanks, I just wanted to know. That's what's on the tip of his tongue but in the end what makes it out is, ] That the weirdest thing that's happened to you here?
[ In all honesty Arthur's mostly expecting White to say 'no' because a dozen ridiculous scenarios already present themselves in his head, but it's good to get someone else's gauge for 'weird', especially someone who's been 'here' longer. Asleep, part of the dream, both, whatever. Leaned back into the plush of the couch pillows as he is, Arthur tilts his head slightly. ]