Making her entrance into the dining area of the restaurant, Ariadne scanned the crowd around her. Elegance was the theme for tonight with everyone dressed in designer wear and opulent jewellery. Well, almost everyone. There wasn't any diamond or gold around her neck, just a simple silver chain she'd always been fond of; it accessorized well with the black dress she was wearing. Although she usually hated shopping, she had decided to buy a new outfit for tonight as she was here to work and the occasion called for sophisticated attire.

Just then, she caught sight of Arthur. He was seated at the bar with a martini glass in his hand, his back turned to the bartender while his gaze was focused straight ahead on their mark.

She smiled.

She may not have felt too comfortable with this elite crowd but Arthur was right in his element here. He was dressed in a crisp black tuxedo (probably the Tom Ford suit he'd been coveting for a while) perfectly accompanied with a bow tie and white pocket square, his hair slicked back. His eyebrow arched up and she followed his gaze to see what piqued his interest. Ah, the mark's wife was flirting with Eames. Just as planned.

Eames stood out like a sore thumb amongst the crowd in his green jacket and a pale yellow shirt underneath - the first few buttons undone - and grey trousers. Mismatched, but with a swagger and confidence that could make women – and men – weak in the knees with just a hint of a smile. Soon, he would be escorting the mark's lonely wife away from the rest of the crowd. He would talk to her, charm her, all the while studying every nuance of her personality and character traits that would convince her husband that Eames was his wife when he forged into her in dream-space.

Smoothing her dress, Ariadne slowly made her way towards Arthur. When she walked past him to grab the empty seat beside, he stopped focusing on the mark's wife and settled his gaze on Ariadne, favouring her with an appreciative smile.

"Nice dress."

"Nice tux."

They flirted constantly; it was a game with them. At first their relationship was simply platonic but after he'd stolen a kiss from her in dream-space, their interactions had progressed a lot further – yet still not far enough to her liking. These days they were both waiting it out, seeing who would relent first. Ariadne was determined not to fold, and apparently so was Arthur.

Bastard.

"Are the stilettos for my benefit?" he asked, his gaze languidly gliding down her form before reaching her eyes again.

"Don't flatter yourself."

He quirked his eyebrow and took another sip of his drink, all the while undressing her with just a look. His gaze was simultaneously intense and full of mirth, teasing and taunting her, daring her to take the next step but then ready to mock her if she did.

He'd just have to wait.

She ordered a drink before locking eyes with him again. "I see we're on schedule."

"Eames is seducing the wife as we speak."

"Lucky bitch."

A hint of irritation flashed across his face. "Jealous?"

She shrugged her shoulders, feigning nonchalance but absolutely thrilled at the idea of Arthur being perturbed. "Just curious. I think he would be quite the... experience."

"You're kidding me."

"Why? He's charming, and has a way with words. Plus, that accent helps."

"I didn't think he was your type."

"Eames is everyone's type. He goes after what he wants. No games, no pretensions."

"You do remember he's a gambler, right? He loves the thrill of the chase, it's what he lives for.'

She took a sip of her martini, gauging Arthur's reaction. More than annoyed, he was now obviously pissed. His jaw was clenched and there was anger sparking in his eyes.

It served him right and she loved every minute of it.

"You can't be all that surprised, Arthur. You must have noticed we flirt a lot with each other."

"He also flirts with inanimate objects. I don't think it means anything."

"Maybe you're wrong," she said with a wistful smile, trying her best not to break into laughter. "Maybe one day Eames will realize I'm the one meant for him and he'll fall madly in love with me."

"Are you high? Did you take something?"

She chuckled; she couldn't help it. "No. I'm just feeling optimistic."

"That's not optimism; it's delusion."

"Stop being such a cynic, Arthur. You're ruining my high."

"Yeah well, you've ruined mine."

Maybe it was the subtle bitterness laced in his voice, or that he seemed truly disappointed, but taunting him was no longer proving to be fun. Especially when he levelled her with an intense, hostile gaze.

"I don't know why I thought you were different."

"Why does this bother you so much?"

"It doesn't."

"There's a reason why you're upset. Man up and tell me why."

He gave her a condescending smile. "Man up? What, are we on Jerry Springer?"

"Don't. Don't do that."

"We're here to work, Ariadne. We don't have time for this."

She couldn't remember the last time she had been this angry. Who the hell did he think he was to just dismiss her?

At first she sat back and simmered with rage as Arthur stood up but when he started walking away without even looking at her – as if she'd magically ceased to exist - she had enough. Maybe it was easy for him to put her out of his mind and ignore her, but she wasn't built that way. Forceful and determined, she followed after him.

He cut through the crowd, ambivalent to her, which only helped fuel her rage more. It wasn't until he left the restaurant and stepped outside that she finally caught up to him. They weren't alone, there was a doorman standing nearby, but she was past the point of caring about polite behaviour. Grabbing him by the arm, she forced him around.

"You're such a coward, you know that?" she hissed.

Arthur glared down at her before flashing the doorman an embarrassed smile. "Maybe we should do this later?"

"No! I want to deal with this now."

"This is not the right place for you to throw a temper tantrum."

She shoved him, hard, and he faltered back a few steps. "Don't treat me like a fucking child!"

"Then stop acting like one!"

"I hate you, you know that? I fucking hate you."

"I'm not doing this with you," Arthur declared coldly, and started walking away.

Heaving, she glared after him, debating her next move.

"Can I get you a cab?" the doorman asked, granting her a pitiful smile.

Ignoring him, she started chasing after Arthur. "Do you think you're better than me?" she asked breathlessly, struggling to keep up with him as he sped along the sidewalk.

He ignored her.

"Or are you seriously not capable of having an honest conversation?"

"Is that what you think this is?" he mocked, glaring at her briefly before resuming his gaze straight ahead.

"At least I'm trying and not just running away because I'm terrified."

"Don't psycho analyse me, Ariadne. I'm not Cobb."

"No, you're not. He's twice the man you are," she spit out.

He sneered. "Give it up. You don't stand a chance with him. Or Eames. They like women, not girls."

She wanted to hit him. Instead, she did the next best thing and tripped him. He fell sideways to the ground, glaring at her with shock first and then complete rage. Before he could retaliate, Ariadne ran.

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She was fast, he was quicker, and on top of that he wasn't wearing heels that weren't meant for long walks let alone running. He caught up to her within seconds, grabbing her from behind just as she reached the secluded alleyway. His palm clamped over her mouth, stopping her from screaming, but she wasn't one to give up easily. She kicked and struggled against him as he picked her up and carried her into the dark alley.

"Is this what you want, Ariadne?" he whispered roughly in her ear.

She didn't respond, couldn't; he pinned her against the wall, holding her firmly in place with his body. The bumpy texture of the building rubbed against her back, hurting her, but he didn't seem to care. His breath was rough against her skin, unforgiving, and even in the darkness she could see his eyes; they were wild, uncontrolled, simmering with more emotion than she'd ever seen in them.

"Is it?" he demanded, gripping her face with his hands. His fingers dug into her skin, and his thumb swiped across her lower lip slowly, bruising her. "You want me out of control, Ariadne? You think you can handle it?"

She clenched his jacket, trying to push him away, but it only encouraged him to move in even closer. He lifted her up effortlessly, and inserted his knee between her legs so now she was balanced on them and at eye-level with him.

"Who's the coward now, Ariadne?"

"Fuck you!"

"That's what you want, isn't it? It's what you've been begging for," he taunted her cruelly.

"I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!"

"You think I care?"

"Go to hell!"

He laughed, and the sound of his mocking laughter burned her up from the inside. She wanted to hurt him, no, not just hurt, bruise him, and wipe that smug smirk off his face. Using all her strength, she swung her fist across his face. Unfortunately, the resulting punch only seemed to provoke him more. Before she could attack him again, he closed his mouth over hers, punishing her with a cruel kiss.