Sequel: And You Lied to the Angel ›
And They Call Her Cinderella
Chapter Three.
Friday, October 26, 2012
8:32 p.m.
"Really?" Arthur asked. His eyebrows arched high over his dark eyes as he looked at the café.
Eames nodded. "Yes, really. Where better to have our first date than where we first met?" He smiled again, only this one was sweet (the grin that usually graced Eames' features was either arrogant or boastful, or the one his mum used to call his "come hither" grin).
Arthur shook his head, allowing himself a smile. He walked ahead of Eames into the café and took a seat at his normal table.
Eames stood across from him, not yet sitting down. "What would you like, darling?" he asked.
Arthur had removed his scarf and coat and placed them over the back of his chair to reveal a light grey button up. Eames could see the tiniest bit of a gold chain poking out from behind the color of Arthur's shirt, but as soon as the man noticed Eames' stare, he pushed the chain under the fabric and out of sight (it was far too soon for that topic of conversation).
"Just tea, please. If that's all right." He began to reach around to grab the wallet from his pocket, but Eames had already started walking towards the counter (Eames always paid. Always).
The short car ride to the cafe and the few moments he'd been seated at the table had done little to calm Arthur's nerves. Eames was a character. He spoke loudly (he never raised his voice) and encroached on Arthur's space (he never touched Arthur or his things without gaining some sort of permission). Arthur hardly knew how to react to him.
When Eames arrived back at the table he placed Arthur's cup of tea in front of him and put just a mug of coffee in front of himself. In response to Arthur's questioning look he said only, "I had a large dinner." He took a large gulp of the (scalding hot, though he wouldn't admit to Arthur that it burnt his tongue and throat on the way down) coffee, then spoke again. "Tell me about yourself, Arthur."
Arthur almost choked on his tea. He'd known it was coming (of course it was coming, this was a date) but he hoped it could have been put off, that maybe he could have asked Eames about himself first. "Um," he started, "I'm a history teacher."
"A teacher?" Eames repeated, a glint in his eyes that made Arthur feel quite uneasy (as it rightly should have; that glint was what would set everything in motion for the two). "I like that."
8:32 p.m.
"Really?" Arthur asked. His eyebrows arched high over his dark eyes as he looked at the café.
Eames nodded. "Yes, really. Where better to have our first date than where we first met?" He smiled again, only this one was sweet (the grin that usually graced Eames' features was either arrogant or boastful, or the one his mum used to call his "come hither" grin).
Arthur shook his head, allowing himself a smile. He walked ahead of Eames into the café and took a seat at his normal table.
Eames stood across from him, not yet sitting down. "What would you like, darling?" he asked.
Arthur had removed his scarf and coat and placed them over the back of his chair to reveal a light grey button up. Eames could see the tiniest bit of a gold chain poking out from behind the color of Arthur's shirt, but as soon as the man noticed Eames' stare, he pushed the chain under the fabric and out of sight (it was far too soon for that topic of conversation).
"Just tea, please. If that's all right." He began to reach around to grab the wallet from his pocket, but Eames had already started walking towards the counter (Eames always paid. Always).
The short car ride to the cafe and the few moments he'd been seated at the table had done little to calm Arthur's nerves. Eames was a character. He spoke loudly (he never raised his voice) and encroached on Arthur's space (he never touched Arthur or his things without gaining some sort of permission). Arthur hardly knew how to react to him.
When Eames arrived back at the table he placed Arthur's cup of tea in front of him and put just a mug of coffee in front of himself. In response to Arthur's questioning look he said only, "I had a large dinner." He took a large gulp of the (scalding hot, though he wouldn't admit to Arthur that it burnt his tongue and throat on the way down) coffee, then spoke again. "Tell me about yourself, Arthur."
Arthur almost choked on his tea. He'd known it was coming (of course it was coming, this was a date) but he hoped it could have been put off, that maybe he could have asked Eames about himself first. "Um," he started, "I'm a history teacher."
"A teacher?" Eames repeated, a glint in his eyes that made Arthur feel quite uneasy (as it rightly should have; that glint was what would set everything in motion for the two). "I like that."