***Please note the characters do not belong to me, but to the creator Christopher Nolan***

Ever since Cobb announced our new job, everybody in the spacious warehouse was in their own section. We were working non-stop like a hectic office the day before everything was due.

Arthur was busy gathering data on our new target. He was sitting at an iron-grey desk with his eyebrows arched in determination and his dark eyes focused on the papers scattered all about.

Cobb was pacing back and forth. That's how he usually comes up with a well-constructed plan. He even analyzes word for word what he'll say to the dreamer.

Meanwhile, Eames was constantly scribbling down notes. He'd stop for a brief second and tap his pencil on the right side of his scruffy cheek. He'd lick his lip while in deep though and then he'd come up with an idea or another detail and race off to write it down.

Me, on the other hand, I was the only one who was distracted. The mazes I was constructing weren't complicated enough. I was trying to build the world of the dreamer, but every time I would encounter problems that I never encountered before, not even on my first day when I helped the team with inception. I've always been an A student who rarely slacked off, but my mind just couldn't focus.

Each time I had to erase what I had and start over. Was it because of the fight that I had with my parents the other day? Did I drink too much coffee?

I could feel the frustration build up inside of me, it rumbled like a volcano ready to erupt, but instead of allowing it to do that, I let my frustration out in little sighs. I sighed a countless number of times throughout the afternoon and evening, but under the echoes of Cobb's pacing, Arthur's papers shuffling, and Eame's scribbling, they went unnoticed.

Beep! Beep! The bright red numbers showing 11:30 P.M. illuminated. This alarm meant it was time to call it a night. Not everybody left all at once. After every 20 minutes or so, each man left the concrete-floored warehouse and said his good-byes to those who were remaining.

I couldn't give up now. I desperately needed to work on the landscape that I should have made a lot of progress on hours ago. Eames was the last one to leave before me. "Ariadne, don't stay here too long, darling. It's bad for your skin to stay up so late. You'll need to put on even more make-up for your boyfriend if you keep this habit up." he chuckled deeply. Eames always teased me about that stuff after he saw me reading a teen beauty magazine with a "How to improve your looks for your next date" as the cover story.

I replied without looking up from my work, "No need to worry about me, my skin, or my dates, Eames. I'll just work a little longer." With that, he slowly closed the door behind him. A frigid pre-winter breeze escaped from the outside and trickled down my neck causing me to shiver. Wrapping my cardigan around me tight, I cracked my knuckles and whispered, "Let's get this done with."

A few hours passed. Furiously, I scratched my scalp commanding my mind to THINK, THINK, THINK! A yelp of annoyance easily escaped my throat and in turn, my head lied down on the table, my arms dangling, not bothering to rest them in my lap or on the table. I made a tiny bit of progress, but not enough to matter. I bit my lip and then automatically let out a long sigh that caused my bangs to flutter.

The next thing I knew, my eyes unbolted from the nap that locked me up. Sunlight pierced my retinas. "Oh crap," I stated after realizing I didn't leave the work place. I looked straight up towards the high ceiling, almost as if I was praying, and hoped that I'd have enough time go home. I desperately needed food or a change of clothes, both would be the best.

Without wasting any more time, I turned my head around to look at the clock: "7:30 A.M.! I slept here the entire night! Well, I might as well stay here. I'm supposed to come and work at 8:30; I won't have time to make it home and back." With annoyance, I plopped my head back on my desk. I held onto my stomach. I complained to myself, "I'll have to wait until noon to eat food. Why don't I live closer? Or better yet, why don't I carry spare money?"

"Here's some breakfast, love." I jumped. I didn't hear anyone come in. Now here, standing above me, is the early-bird Eames with his usual smirk, one hand leaning on the desk, the other just dropped a brown paper bag in front of my face. I looked from his face down to the paper bag. How did such a large man who always made a strong presence in the room sneak up on me?

I lifted it and unexpectedly, it was heavy. "What do you have in here? Booze?" Eames snickered as he pulled up a chair to sit next to me, and positioned himself as if he was seated on a chair on the beach, as comfortable as can be. "No, I limit my alcohol intake. I stop at, say, 5:00 in the morning."

I rolled my eyes at him and I began to pull out all the items: two milks (1 chocolate, 1 white), 2 yogurts (1 strawberry, 1 vanilla), 2 white plastic spoons, 2 granola bars, and 2 red and shiny apples.

Eames then began dividing the food promptly. He gave me the chocolate milk, the strawberry yogurt, a granola bar, and an apple. Surprisingly, I preferred all the food and flavors he picked out for me. I couldn't find a complaint with the food if I wanted one. I noticed a coffee on my side, not on his. "Why didn't you buy yourself a coffee?" I asked. "I am not fond of the taste," he stated as he was beginning to eat.

We sat in silence for what seemed like a minute. "I feel like I'm back in elementary school," I stated and broke the silence as I opened the little square carton of chocolate milk making sure I was opening it on the correct side. "Well, you are still a little kid, sweetheart." he joked just trying to tease and annoy me…and it worked. "I am not!" Eames showed his white teeth again as he smiled and his dark eyes closed as he laughed. "You totally responded like one." I could feel my face turn pink and then drift into a deep red.

In an attempt to hide it, I looked away and I took a big bite into my apple. The juice from the apple ran down a side of my mouth. I wiped it with my hand since he didn't bring napkins. "Did you know," Eames began as he picked up his apple and studied it. "…That eating an apple can prove whether you're a good kisser or not?"

Once I swallowed, I shook my head, "How so? That is not scientifically proven or logical by any means." Eames looked at me straight in the eyes and started to teach and demonstrate. "If you eat an apple as you did, with the juices running down your mouth, you're a sloppy kisser." He then showed me by taking a large bite of the apple and the juices trickled down his soft lips and dripped off his beard stubble.

"However, if you're like me, and eat an apple like this…" He then slightly turned the apple and took a small and neat bite. "Then you're a good kisser." He rotated the apple to show me and explained, "if your bite is an inch bigger than this, then you're an alright kisser. Any bigger or sloppier though, then you're one bad kisser."

"I don't believe in that kind of stuff, especially theories that were conducted by apples to prove kissing abilities," I remarked. "Oh, really?" He asked, with an emphasis on the double l's. "Prove it." He moved in closer, almost too close. I crossed my arms and shifted back as much as the chair would allow me. "No way am I falling for that," I sneered.

He pulled back, appalled. "My dear, Adriane, would I ever trick you?" I gave him that sarcastic look in which people often add the, "no duh," at the end. Eames smiled. "Don't be like that. All you have to do is show me that you can eat an apple like a good kisser."

He paused, "I never knew you would turn down a challenge as simple as biting into an apple." That last line struck home. My sarcastic look evolved into a glare and with a blink of an eye, I accepted the challenge with a, "fine! I'll show you."

Crunch. "Nope, too big." Crunch. "Too sloppy." Crunch. "Nope, do try again." Crunch. I showed him the apple one last time and compared it to his. He examined it closely for a long time. Then he straightened up and I waited for the verdict.

"No, sorry, dear. You're definitely still a kid who can't kiss a boy without drooling all over him." I clenched my fists, "No I am not! …Whoa!" WHAM!

It was the floor. On top of the floor was Eames. On top of Eames was me. My long, slightly curled brown hair was dangling, the tips barely touching his neck. He cushioned the fall that I admit to having caused. My arms, in order to brace myself, held on to the fabric of his upper sleeves, almost coming dangerously close to his chest. It wasn't like grabbing a rock, but you could tell he was toned in the arms.

I felt my face become red once again. We both took a breath and did not speak nor move. Tap, tap, tap. It must be Arthur and Cobb. Finally my brain translated the message: "you + Eames + the floor = scene * (weird + risky)"

I scrambled up from off of Eames and avoided his stare by turning around slightly. I heard him brushing his shirt off from any dust or debris from the concrete floor. I expected him to be angry at me for sending him to the ground or at least just as flushed as I was.

I was waiting for him to leave my station. Instead, he came up to me, put his arms on my shoulders, and didn't show any trace of discomfort or enmity. He was about to say something, I'm sure of it. What could he possibly have to say after that awkward moment? Then he said it, with his signature smirk of course, "I give that landing a 10."

The door was noisily pulled ajar and the extractor and the point man strolled in. Cobb nodded at us, said a typical, "Good morning," and continued walking to his part of the warehouse, already having his mind at work.

Arthur, with his hands in his pockets, greeted us and smiled at me. "How are you Araidne?" On their own my hands went behind my back, and I swayed lightly from side to side, returning the smile, "Good, thanks Arthur." As he passed us by, his face turned emotionless and a stare focused on Eames.

I knew Eames and Arthur never got along, mostly because of Eames' teasing, but Arthur looked somewhat irritated…well, more irritated than usual.

Once he was out of hearing distance and his back turned, I took that opportunity to hit Eames in the back of the head and he grumbled. "Ow, women are ever so painful," Eames complained as he rubbed his head and wandered back to his side to start his note-taking.

Everyone was at their work station already in the midst of their work while I cleaned up all the food debris: the milk cartons, the granola bar wrappers, apple cores, and the empty yogurt containers.

I then noticed a little piece of hard candy wrapped up in pink and white swirly packaging sitting on top of my books. It wasn't there before, right? I don't remember it being in the paper bag. The label on the packaging was simple; all it said was "Swirl". I shrugged to myself and decided to taste it. It was sweet, but not too sweet and the strawberry and vanilla mixed together perfectly.