Part 2: Eames
The first time she saw Goren in interrogation, she was totally and absolutely mind blown. Even still, as a practiced observer, she would get lost in his performance.
She was used to being an interrogation-room wallflower when Goren was around; most of the time she simply absorbed his excess energy, and watched in resigned awe as this rather quiet man suddenly geared up to break the sound barrier.
There were many times when she may as well not have been there. But occasionally his eyes would drift in her direction-- usually to signal her next line, or the need for her to exit, or to prompt her to provide a distraction for a moment.
His eyes, wild and dark, would lock with hers. She, in turn, would raise her nose, just a little. It was pure reflex on her part, something she always did when she felt herself under the eyes of an alpha male. Something she only did with Goren when they were in interrogation.
Then it would magically become clear what he wanted from her, and she would act accordingly, as though the message was piped directly into her head by God.
The reality was that they had a mutual ability to read each other, developed by several years of practice, and supported by a complex web of unnamable emotional connections.
However, she wouldn't lie to herself. The strange automation of her response to him was also a testament to the dominance he exuded when his powerful mind was emotionally engaged.
It made her wonder what he would be like in a personal battle of wills, loosed from even the minimal professional constraints that existed for him, unfettered by the need to maintain a façade of normalcy around his colleagues.
The image her mind conjured sent shivers down the length of her spine. Her question became—what would provoke such intensity in him?
She hadn't the faintest, which only served to point out the fantastical element in her thinking.
In fact, he usually showed an exaggerated sensitivity whenever they would have a disagreement. He had a paranoid fear of argument, like it would collapse the whole house of cards that they had built together.
For all of his brilliance, he didn't seem to understand that their house of cards was firmly encased in cement, as far as she was concerned. She trusted him entirely.
Still, she always noted his reticence when things got tense, and tried her best to get her point across with out it becoming personal. She never held back; Goren needed to be questioned and challenged. That was part of her job. But she understood that he feared that someday she would be pushed too far, and would leave.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
Her mind grappled with the idea that the same man she wondered at in the interrogation room also desperately feared abandonment. Specifically, her abandonment of him.
And then she understood exactly what it would take to push House of Cards Bobby to become Interrogation Room Bobby.
Not that she would ever do it. But the realization deserved a footnote.
The first time she saw Goren in interrogation, she was totally and absolutely mind blown. Even still, as a practiced observer, she would get lost in his performance.
She was used to being an interrogation-room wallflower when Goren was around; most of the time she simply absorbed his excess energy, and watched in resigned awe as this rather quiet man suddenly geared up to break the sound barrier.
There were many times when she may as well not have been there. But occasionally his eyes would drift in her direction-- usually to signal her next line, or the need for her to exit, or to prompt her to provide a distraction for a moment.
His eyes, wild and dark, would lock with hers. She, in turn, would raise her nose, just a little. It was pure reflex on her part, something she always did when she felt herself under the eyes of an alpha male. Something she only did with Goren when they were in interrogation.
Then it would magically become clear what he wanted from her, and she would act accordingly, as though the message was piped directly into her head by God.
The reality was that they had a mutual ability to read each other, developed by several years of practice, and supported by a complex web of unnamable emotional connections.
However, she wouldn't lie to herself. The strange automation of her response to him was also a testament to the dominance he exuded when his powerful mind was emotionally engaged.
It made her wonder what he would be like in a personal battle of wills, loosed from even the minimal professional constraints that existed for him, unfettered by the need to maintain a façade of normalcy around his colleagues.
The image her mind conjured sent shivers down the length of her spine. Her question became—what would provoke such intensity in him?
She hadn't the faintest, which only served to point out the fantastical element in her thinking.
In fact, he usually showed an exaggerated sensitivity whenever they would have a disagreement. He had a paranoid fear of argument, like it would collapse the whole house of cards that they had built together.
For all of his brilliance, he didn't seem to understand that their house of cards was firmly encased in cement, as far as she was concerned. She trusted him entirely.
Still, she always noted his reticence when things got tense, and tried her best to get her point across with out it becoming personal. She never held back; Goren needed to be questioned and challenged. That was part of her job. But she understood that he feared that someday she would be pushed too far, and would leave.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
Her mind grappled with the idea that the same man she wondered at in the interrogation room also desperately feared abandonment. Specifically, her abandonment of him.
And then she understood exactly what it would take to push House of Cards Bobby to become Interrogation Room Bobby.
Not that she would ever do it. But the realization deserved a footnote.