on procrastination.

[staircases]

[ He's waiting. Again. ]

Or you could just finish the app.

Comments

[ownership]

[ A steady beat of quiet blinking. Then: ]

Patience is a lesson.

[staircases]

[ Without missing his own beat: ]

So's discipline.

[ The lady upstairs could use some. ]

[ownership]

[ She tongues the inside of her cheek. ]

But you're awake. [ Therefore: disciplined, in all the critical areas. ] Your typist isn't stupid.

[staircases]

[ He watches her mannerisms with a passive sort of interest. People aren't really his thing, but that doesn't mean he can't attempt observation. Just, more often than not, the pieces don't fit together as smoothlessly or as effortlessly as they do for people like Eames or even Dom. (A perpetual sticking point in his head.) ]

Never said she was stupid. [ And never will. ] Just a little impulsive.

Could get us both into trouble. Never been?

[a_compass]

Or you could run interference and pressure-trigger the inevitable.

Afternoon, Number Three. We got us a timer situation?

[staircases]

Normally, she's the type you wait out. Try to paint her into a corner and she'll bolt.

This time—? [ He shrugs. An unpredictable and unexpected reaction on her part. Two of Arthur's least favorite words. ]

[a_compass]

This time, change of tactic. Live. Learn. Adapt.

Right. Pressure doesn't work. Common sense doesn't work. Tried flattery? Bribery? Pathos?

[staircases]

[ And suddenly he feels like he's twenty five old all over again, wet behind the ears and listening to some debrief. Still, it's Cobb, so— ]

Let's just say I've got a lot of company around here, and a lot of them— they like to shout. [ Needless to say, he's never been a real 'shouter'. ] The subtleties are gonna get lost on her.

[ A beat and then a tip of his chin. He doesn't like talking about himself, not if he can help it. ] You?

[signatures]

Would you stop trying to interfere?

[staircases]

It's called impetus, Eames. She needs some.

[signatures]

Some boats need not be rocked for the sake of impetus.

You won't like it here. The showers are communal.

[widowing]

[ oh, you again. ]

But that would be the logical thing for to do.

[staircases]

[ Third verse, same as the second and the first? ]

She's certainly capable of it. [ A beat. ] When she feels like it.

[widowing]

[ this is the song that doesn't end, yes it goes on and on my friend... ]

Perhaps proper motivation is required.

[jacked]

Hey man, at least yours has started it.

[staircases]

A for effort doesn't mean much without follow-through. And I'm not the gold-star giving type.

[jacked]

So sometimes you have to sweeten the deal. Throw in a few extras. Motivate.

[efficiencies]

For your sake, I hope that's a terrible attempt at reverse psychology instead of—well. Encouragement.

[ SHE'S SEEN HEARD SOME SHIT, MAN. DON'T GO INTO SPACE.

except instead of, you know, seeming even vaguely worried, beth just sounds casually judgmental. go figure. ]

[staircases]

[ Arthur doesn't know how to socialize with people who aren't being judgmental. So Beth fits right in. ]

It's either this or back onto the heap. She actually gets me where I need to go, there's not gonna be any problems. It's the getting part that worries me.

[battyman]

There are some moments when people just don't have the tools to get the job done.

[staircases]

[ Doesn't he know it. ]

The hard part is getting them to own up to the fact.

[battyman]

[ Story of both their lives, right? ]

But people can come around eventually. I find it takes the proper amount of poking and prodding.

[constructum]

I don't exactly think pressuring them is going to help matters, Arthur.

[staircases]

Not exactly my definition of 'pressure', Ariadne. [ More like a 'friendly' reminder.

He doesn't say anything for a long moment. Just looks at her. ]

It's going to be complicated, isn't it?

[constructum]

[ a nod (faint, but there) looking almost apologetic about it. as she sighs slightly, unconsciously starting to rub at the back of her neck, just trying to work out some of her thoughts into the proper wording.

Sadly: ] You're dead, Arthur. [ blunt truth perhaps, but it is what it is and she can't pretend that it doesn't bother her.
a pause as faint frown appears at the corner of her mouth, adding: ] And you left us to pick up the pieces.

[ and it's not that she doesn't miss arthur - because she does. it's just trying to understand it all that has her more uncertain then anything. (god shes really sorry, she wishes she could make this easier for him) ]