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(no subject)

WHO:

specifythepoint
WHERE: A bar near Arthur's condo.
WHEN: This evening.
WARNINGS: None, unless you count drinking and probably some massive awkwardness and misunderstandings.
SUMMARY: Two people, having a drink. Is it a date? Your guess is as good as mine.
FORMAT: Action spam.

[Okay, so asking her out for a drink is unexpected, but that good kind of unexpected. And if she throws on a little lipstick, and fluffs her hair a bit, well, who can blame her, really?

He was right - the bar is hardly a dive (she doesn't think there are any in this part of the City), but it's not the sort of place where she'd be expected to show up in a slinky little dress. Which is a bit of a relief, because Ariadne has never been able to pull off that kind of look.

She finds a table towards the back, but with a good view of the door so she can spot him when he comes in.]

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[A shrug as they get their drinks]

And your suggestions of what to do with the old one?

[She laughs.] Give it to the Salvation Army?

I go through two bed before you've even had one.

Is that your passive-aggressive way of telling me I need to be looking for somewhere else to live? [She joking - sort of. It hasn't been a topic of discussion since her arrival in the City. She assumes at some point she'll want to find her own place to live, if only on principal.

But he did just take her to Barcelona.]

[A moment; he's surprised]

I'd kick Eames out before I'd kick you out.

So I can just... Sleep on your floor as long as I want, and next time I mention wanting to see Venice, you'll just...take me, like you did with Barcelona? [She tilts her head curiously and takes a sip of her drink.]

I really don't like Venice very much.

[He takes a drink]

You should make Eames sleep on the floor at least once. Don't let him convince you it's bad for his back.

[Ariadne rolls her eyes a little.] You're just being obtuse now, Arthur.

[He eyes her for a moment]

What did this trip mean to you?

[She takes a drink, suddenly afraid she might need a lot more by the time the night is over.] A guy I like took me to Barcelona.

No one's ever done that before, have they?

[SON OF A BITCH EAMES WAS RIGHT]

Um, no. Is that a normal sort of thing to do in your world?

I mean, with people who aren't romantically involved? [Because there's no point beating around the bush anymore - the signals he's been giving off are decidedly mixed, and it would be crazy to keep playing this game.

Of course, he might actually be playing a game with her.]

[P A U S E]

I took Eames to London.

[P A U S E]

[She looks highly skeptical.]

You took Eames to London on a whim? Because he casually mentioned to you that he's never been there and wanted to see it?

You took him to dinner and bought him a new, perfectly-tailored suit for the occasion?

[Quiet, now]

No, that wasn't it. But I did go to Venice with Zatanna. Before you got here. I bought her a dress, and we went to dinner.

So you just take your women friends to romantic European cities, buy dresses for them and go to dinner with them. [She's frowning, deeply, staring into her drink.] I'm just getting really mixed signals here, Arthur.

I'm sorry.

I kind of think you owe me a little more than that. You kissed me, for god's sake.

[His eyes flick to his drink for a minute]

I forget how young you are.

[Well, that was out of left field. She gives him an annoyed look.]

I don't understand what that has to do with anything. Is it the province of older people to screw with my emotions?

That wasn't my intention.

Then maybe you should explain yourself so my little girl brain can understand the big boy games you're playing.

This isn't a game. I just took you to Barcelona. I thought you wanted to go.

[He's starting to look...kind of annoyed]

Don't act like I'm doing this to play with you.

[She takes in what he's saying, and her annoyance begins to fade to a sort of disbelief, then maybe a little hurt.

She'd kind of rather be angry with him and think he's a jerk who's been toying with her emotions. It's easier to handle than what appears to be a simple misunderstanding.]

You're serious. Barcelona, and dinner, and the dress, and asking me out and everything, that's just... being nice.

Well, being nice might be an understatement.