http://fixedroll.livejournal.com/ ([identity profile] fixedroll.livejournal.com) wrote in [community profile] multiversallogs2011-10-27 11:03 pm
Entry tags:

it's funny how a theme recalls a favorite dream

Who: Arthur and Eames
What: serious business, not-so-serious business, general shenanigans
Where: dream bros HQ (an apartment in Flyside)
When: now! right now!!!
Notes: brrrmmmmmm
Warnings: none at this time

So the living room is, as usual, kind of a mess, in the way any workplace inevitably becomes a mess when its occupants are forced to deal with a lack of proper storage and more or less fundamentally incompatible working techniques. Either Arthur or Eames is a fan of making piles, and it's not Arthur. Just saying. All this will finally come to an end, he hopes, once this shelf is in place. This shelf, which he is currently assembling. This tall-ass, heavy shelf, which he should probably not be putting together alone, but he's the only one here right now and by god it must be done.

Sleeves rolled up, on his knees in a pair of jeans, bare-footed and looking very serious, our friend pauses with the screwdriver in his hand and leans across his project in a vaguely uncomfortable, twisting way, to double-check the instructions. It's not quite IKEA-easy, this thing, but Arthur is by no means helpless when faced with the usage of tools, so he's managing. It would help if they'd numbered the pieces, though. At all.

The gramophone-looking vinyl player, which Arthur bought because it was both cheap and amazing, is playing classic wartime big band at a reasonable volume (currently this). There's a half-empty cup of coffee on one of the end tables, now cold. Arthur chews on the lining of his cheek and reads. And reads. And reaches awkwardly to turn the page.

[identity profile] dailymask.livejournal.com 2011-11-05 10:17 pm (UTC)(link)
When Eames comes through the door, it's preceded by a thump, a jangling of keys, and a fair amount of rustling before he manages to balance whatever he's carrying well enough to turn the knob and push the door open. What he's carrying is, it turns out, several paper bags filled to the brim with some manner of yellow tentacled....fruit? What is that, even. (This is why he isn't allowed to do the grocery shopping.)

"Aha, so you have been studying contortionism without me," he comments without missing a beat once he's inside. If he's spared a thought to the apparent bizarreness of his purchases, it doesn't show; instead he's strolling up to peer over Arthur's project, completely unhelpful and without much regard for personal space. Like you do.