[Inception] "Way Overstimulated" (PG)
Oct. 31st, 2013 12:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mtxref_ficAuthor's Note: Written for < lj user="fic_promptly">'s Inception, Ariadne/Arthur, caffeinated
The moment Arthur went under, joining Ariadne in the dreamspace they had to run through one last set of tests, he knew she had had too much coffee, likely the result of the all nighter she had pulled, trying to get the last touches made.
Overhead, the clouds scudded madly, they way they would in a time elapse video filmed by a traffic camera. The pavement seemed harder underfoot and the buildings looked warped, juddery even, as if someone had shaped them from rubber and bamboo instead of concrete and steel. The pedestrians passing by scooted along like glitched sprites in a video game, their legs not even bending at the knees or flexing the hips, rather than actually walking.
"That's not the most disturbing thing I've ever seen," he muttered, as a bird zoomed past his head, as if someone had shot a stuffed bird out of a cannon.
He found her at a cafe, clattering away on a laptop, her eyes glued fixedly to the screen. "Whoa, what's going on?" he said.
Ariadne's head popped up, her eyes wide. She glanced around at the skewed lines of the buildings around them. "Oops, I think I had too much coffee this morning," she said.
"Don't worry, you won't be the first to have that happen," he said, sitting down in a chair, which quivered like jello under him for a moment before it steadied itself. "Looks like you really pushed yourself last night."
"Yeah, I had that hotel to finish, and this cafe didn't look right," she admitted. She looked around at the buildings started to right themselves and the lines of the street straightened themselves. "You don't think this is ruined, do you?"
"Nope, once you get some rest and clear your head, they'll straighten out," he said. "Also helps if you get another clear head in here."
"I just hope Cobb doesn't see this, you know how crabby he can get when things aren't just right," she said, worried now.
"He'll understand: he's been there himself," Arthur replied. "Wouldn't be as bad as the trouble we had with one designer who used to get high on less than legal substances. He didn't last long, trust me: he ruined one job and Cobb was ready to have his head. Even Eames was ready to throw that one to the Feds. You'd have be hopped up on something pretty bad before Cobb would really have a fit."
"You think we should clear out and have Eames come in, instead of me?" she said.
"Yeah, you better get some real sleep: you look bad even down here," he said, getting up and offering her his hand. "Though knowing him, he'd find the Expressionist look amusing."
The moment Arthur went under, joining Ariadne in the dreamspace they had to run through one last set of tests, he knew she had had too much coffee, likely the result of the all nighter she had pulled, trying to get the last touches made.
Overhead, the clouds scudded madly, they way they would in a time elapse video filmed by a traffic camera. The pavement seemed harder underfoot and the buildings looked warped, juddery even, as if someone had shaped them from rubber and bamboo instead of concrete and steel. The pedestrians passing by scooted along like glitched sprites in a video game, their legs not even bending at the knees or flexing the hips, rather than actually walking.
"That's not the most disturbing thing I've ever seen," he muttered, as a bird zoomed past his head, as if someone had shot a stuffed bird out of a cannon.
He found her at a cafe, clattering away on a laptop, her eyes glued fixedly to the screen. "Whoa, what's going on?" he said.
Ariadne's head popped up, her eyes wide. She glanced around at the skewed lines of the buildings around them. "Oops, I think I had too much coffee this morning," she said.
"Don't worry, you won't be the first to have that happen," he said, sitting down in a chair, which quivered like jello under him for a moment before it steadied itself. "Looks like you really pushed yourself last night."
"Yeah, I had that hotel to finish, and this cafe didn't look right," she admitted. She looked around at the buildings started to right themselves and the lines of the street straightened themselves. "You don't think this is ruined, do you?"
"Nope, once you get some rest and clear your head, they'll straighten out," he said. "Also helps if you get another clear head in here."
"I just hope Cobb doesn't see this, you know how crabby he can get when things aren't just right," she said, worried now.
"He'll understand: he's been there himself," Arthur replied. "Wouldn't be as bad as the trouble we had with one designer who used to get high on less than legal substances. He didn't last long, trust me: he ruined one job and Cobb was ready to have his head. Even Eames was ready to throw that one to the Feds. You'd have be hopped up on something pretty bad before Cobb would really have a fit."
"You think we should clear out and have Eames come in, instead of me?" she said.
"Yeah, you better get some real sleep: you look bad even down here," he said, getting up and offering her his hand. "Though knowing him, he'd find the Expressionist look amusing."
