I'll set sporadic reminders on my phone for it, since I know you're a glutton for compliments.
If I tell you, it would ruin the surprise. If I don't tell you, I'm worried about how fast you're going to launch your little French self at me when I walk through the door.
Can't have you going mad, though, so; it's those little pastries you rhapsodize over any time someone mentions Toronto.
[ Which is, consequently, where he's coming from. ]
It would be no faster than usual. But now I must take care, so I do not destroy the surprise. That would be the true tragedy, as you are sturdy and not easy to knock over.
[ Can he tell she's antsy to know? ]
Oh Arthur!
[ She's too dignified to send him a series of !!!!!!!!, which might've happened were she drunk, but it is implied all the same. ]
Don't let it go to your head too much, I really don't need Dom giving me that one look.
[ That disapproving dad stare. ]
I'm sturdy but you're a whirlwind. Practically a natural disaster.
Also, I picked them up this morning on my way to the airport, so they're as fresh as can be. I got Dom something but it isn't sweets since he always looks like I just kicked his puppy when I do that.
[ The business of Dreamshare brings with it a rather strange lack of dreams. She's never understood why this occurs, and if it's to be so because they manipulate the mind in ways that are unnatural and abhorrent to the body, then would abstaining bring forth the dreams again? Curiosity lingers, but it doesn't outmatch her curiosity for manipulating dreams and pushing the mind's boundaries.
Even so, there are times where sleep and a break are required, and she sleeps in on this lazy weekend day for that very reason. The hazy warmth of the slow return of consciousness is only broken by the smell of something warm and sweet. Bitter, as well, which has her shifting from beneath her cocoon of blankets to blearily peer out.
Dom stands with a tray. It takes her but a moment to realize this, and even when she does, Mal remains buried and unmoving. She is lazy like a cat, her maman has always told her. ]
Mon coeur has made breakfast. And you've not burnt the house down?
Not today. [ There's a peace that Cobb finds in Mal, something that settles warmly in his stomach every single time her gaze fixes on him, or she deigns him worthy to hear that sultry, musical voice. It's the little things. Setting the tray down, he slides up to the love of his life, gently running a hand through her hair and leaning forward, kissing her forehead. ]
Good morning.
[ It's not often Mal sleeps in--it's not often any of them do, not really--and he'd relished those tiny moments of calm softly etched onto her face before sliding out of bed and deciding to make her breakfast. He offers a smile. ]
No guarantee it'll taste as good as anything you make.
[ He kisses her forehead, which she finds acceptable, but not wholly so. If he's to lean forward, he should kiss her properly--which is why a hand sneaks its way out of the blankets to catch his shirt, fingers twisting in the soft, warm fabric which always smells like him.
A lifting of her chin, brows lifting and look expectant--even as she smiles back at him. ]
A very good morning.
[ He is softer now, not crazed over a task as he is prone to become. This is her Dominick, her brilliant, lovely, beautiful Dominick. And his teasing is met with her own: a quiet tut, a light flick of his nose. ]
Is there green on my plate? I think that will tell us.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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You owe me a whole bottle when I get there.
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Do you not find the outskirts charming?
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They're only charming once I'm not dealing with the poor excuse for driving this city has to offer.
Bringing you a present, by the way.
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A present! What is it?
[ A beat later. ]
Oh, but you cannot ruin the surprise. It is a surprise?
[ A longer span (but not too long, because she beats him to responding). ]
You should tell me anyway, or else I'll go mad with curiosity.
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If I tell you, it would ruin the surprise. If I don't tell you, I'm worried about how fast you're going to launch your little French self at me when I walk through the door.
Can't have you going mad, though, so; it's those little pastries you rhapsodize over any time someone mentions Toronto.
[ Which is, consequently, where he's coming from. ]
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[ He knows her too well. ]
It would be no faster than usual. But now I must take care, so I do not destroy the surprise. That would be the true tragedy, as you are sturdy and not easy to knock over.
[ Can he tell she's antsy to know? ]
Oh Arthur!
[ She's too dignified to send him a series of !!!!!!!!,
which might've happened were she drunk, but it is implied all the same. ]no subject
[ That disapproving dad stare. ]
I'm sturdy but you're a whirlwind. Practically a natural disaster.
Also, I picked them up this morning on my way to the airport, so they're as fresh as can be. I got Dom something but it isn't sweets since he always looks like I just kicked his puppy when I do that.
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[ Oh, but she has seen that look he gives both Arthur and Eames, and a generous many other connoisseur of Dreamshare. It cannot be helped. ]
Arthur are you implying that I am heavier than you?
Fresh! Mon dieu, toi bel homme. Let him pout over the sweets, it means there are more for you and I. He's no need of them.
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[ It's just who he is. Arthur might be the one serving chilly judgment, but Dom is the disappointed father. There's a difference. ]
What? No, I was commenting on velocity, of course.
I don't know if I need any of these, just looking at one made my blood sugar go through the roof.
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[ It's all she will say of the matter. They're both grown men. ]
Velocity, of course. It's a wonder you've not charmed countless men and women with your mind, darling.
And of course you need plenty. You'll sit there while I eat them? I'm disappointed in you.
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[ There's one night stands, of course, but he's picky as ever. ]
Fine, alright, I'll have a couple at most. And I won't be watching you eat them, I'll have my good friend wine to keep me company.
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I know just the thing to fix this! ♥
[ At this rate, he will refuse to ever visit again. Or for a month, at most, and she will be terribly cross with him for it. ]
A couple is acceptable. [ For she intends to convince him to consuming more. ] Wine and sweets are the perfect pair. It's like us.
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Why do I get a sinking feeling when you say that?
[ MAL WHAT ARE YOU PLOTTING ]
Obviously you're the sweets. [ Oh, smooth. ]
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Trust me, chérie.
[ NOTHING, SHE IS INNOCENT OF ALL TERRIBLE THINGS YOU'RE THINKING OF, ARTHUR. ]
You are a red wine then, I've decided.
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Even so, there are times where sleep and a break are required, and she sleeps in on this lazy weekend day for that very reason. The hazy warmth of the slow return of consciousness is only broken by the smell of something warm and sweet. Bitter, as well, which has her shifting from beneath her cocoon of blankets to blearily peer out.
Dom stands with a tray. It takes her but a moment to realize this, and even when she does, Mal remains buried and unmoving. She is lazy like a cat, her maman has always told her. ]
Mon coeur has made breakfast. And you've not burnt the house down?
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Good morning.
[ It's not often Mal sleeps in--it's not often any of them do, not really--and he'd relished those tiny moments of calm softly etched onto her face before sliding out of bed and deciding to make her breakfast. He offers a smile. ]
No guarantee it'll taste as good as anything you make.
omg kill me now
A lifting of her chin, brows lifting and look expectant--even as she smiles back at him. ]
A very good morning.
[ He is softer now, not crazed over a task as he is prone to become. This is her Dominick, her brilliant, lovely, beautiful Dominick. And his teasing is met with her own: a quiet tut, a light flick of his nose. ]
Is there green on my plate? I think that will tell us.
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