[ 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.
[ 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?
[ Watching implies a kind of focus that Rosella doesn't quite have. Instead, her arsenal runs more towards absence than stillness, eyes sliding over to match Arthur's blink for blink, face otherwise slack. ]
Impulsivity is a gateway to stupidity. You could have corrected with improvisational. [ A tilt of her head, almost owlish in the jerk of it. ] No, I have not.
[ It's a strange sort of lie, he thinks. Everyone gets into trouble once and a while — a reality that he undersands but has never really brought himself to like. His job was to mitigate that tendency as much as possible — in himself and in the people around him (Cobb, Cobb, Cobb).
In denial. A bad liar. Or—
He can't tell which she is. But the blankness is weird. ]
Impulsivity's human nature. [ And, to his credit, he's worked very long and very hard to break that down inside himself. ] Hers has been my advantage up until now. [ It got him here, didn't it? ] There's still time.
[ LUCKY FOR ME I WON'T BE IN MY FORTIES FOR A REALLY LONG TIME, HUH? ]
Great. First she won't do the paperwork, now I find out it's a bad gig. [ Misery, thy name is Arthur's life. ] Anything else you think I should know ahead of time?
Ah. A woman with security clearance. [ Oh, he knows all about women like you, Ms. Romanov. You're like one of those big shiny red buttons that come with the label 'do not touch'. ] Why am I not surprised.
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