diastereomer | v o i c e ] [ 001

I was at the shop, [ Yusuf starts, as if this questioning is entirely unnecessary. ] Working on an absorption modification for a compound. Acids were proving unhelpful in the pathway so I figured metals might bind easier. They are rather expensive for the purer metals-- gold, platinum, the like-- so I sat down to figure that out, pricing and such [ Yusuf waves a hand, ] Preemptive but necessary if I am going to make the order either way, and...

[ Footsteps slowing a degree, Yusuf follows that thread of thought right into oblivion. ] Curious.

[ Logically he should know that if Eames and Arthur are down here, then he must have closed up shop early and set them up in the small room with walls made more of bookshelves than plaster and the comfortable papasan. But he's dredging up another memory, nothing so close to the forefront as an action performed only moments ago. ] I suppose I... I have no idea.

[ Eames nods shortly, as though it was the sort of answer he was predicting, despite the awful way it sits on the mind, to not know entirely where one is supposed to be. ]

Arthur and I can only last recall the completion of the job, [ he explains, ] that thirty-eight hour interval where I was going to transfer to Italy for that opportunity in Florence, remember, I told you of it once before.

But from the sounds of it, you should already be back to your enterprise, and when Ariadne was here briefly - well, it seemed as though it had been months past. Whatever is happening here, we didn't all come down together.

[ At least that takes the slight worry that Yusuf is accidentally poisoning them all a comfortable distance out of the equation- not entirely (the chemistry associated with these compounds is far too complex to exclude anything just yet) but there are a myriad of possibilities they have yet to explore and Yusuf seems less likely the cause.

Small victories!

Confused, Yusuf glances at Eames with a bit of concern. ] What do you mean when? Where has Ariadne gone?

She's woken up, I would guess - though I don't know what that bodes for her, exactly.

[ It's difficult to tell much of anything, from the pacing up there compared to down here, whether they've got something larger on their hands or a fluke. There's uncertainties at play but Eames has never held the term impossible within arm's reach, simply because nothing is impossible. ]

We can only hope it is for the best, in that case...

[ Which could mean anything from at least she's out of the dream to she might have been more help down here for all that she knows how to operate a PASIV. Ariadne is a brilliant girl, but she is not a chemist. And even if she did wake up back in the lab (as unlikely as that is)...

Yusuf doesn't label his bottles.

Running a hand through his hair, Yusuf tries to go about this the scientific way. What are the facts? ] Did one of you wake her up? How long has she been gone? And, I suppose, relatively, how long have the two of you been here?

No, she just- wasn't around any longer. There's a hall here that seems to have a record on everyone who leaves - don't ask me the mechanics of it, I'm really not so certain. She disappeared near the end of May; we searched the entire City.

[ Eames smooths the hair on the nape of his neck down, thoughtful. ] Arthur has been here since April. It's September, now. As for me, well, there's another layer of complexity to it.

[ They pass by a brick building and Eames makes as if to turn left, and Yusuf follows his directing easily as walking his way home from the market. He'll have to go see this wall for himself, assuming there is the opportunity. ]

Well, don't keep me in suspense. What is this additional complexity?

Before we woke up on the plane, I ended up here - back in October of the previous year, or thereabouts. I don't remember every detail of it, but there you go. There was a month gap between that visit and when I ended up back here again, this time with Arthur.

Then there is, of course, the multitude of things that occur while here. [ Eames leads them to the eleventh quarter, where their apartment complex resides, pulling open the lobby doors for Yusuf and waving him in. ]

[ Running the calculation in his head, Yusuf has to add yet another possibility into the mix. If Eames has been down here that long, it is very possible that this isn't the first layer. They could be layers deep, mucking through the layers of the subconscious with little idea of how or why because of the sheer depth of the sedation.

Which is very bad, once the mind has acclimated to the dream as reality.

Yusuf takes a look around the inside of the building-- nothing too extraordinary-- and follows Eames' lead to the elevator, pressing the only button there is to press. Up. ] You mean, stranger things than you are used to in dreams? Because this place seems... very normal to me.

That's because you've come in after midnight. Thinks have a tendency to die down, then. [ Eames rubs at the scruff on his jaw, glancing down at the pressed button, then up to the rows of numbers flashing as the carriage makes its way down to the ground floor. He digs out his device to find the manual he'd procured for Arthur concerning what the citizens had made of their City here, and the consequent curses and the like.

He hands it over for Yusuf to read. ]

There's this, if you'd like to have a look over, before we inundate you with information. There are- well, environmental shifts from anything I can tell, people to the weather, memory wipes, turning into animals or the opposite gender. There's no real sense to it, but all of the blame is put on what are referred to as Deities.

[ Eames promises he hasn't gone batshit, okay. ]

I'm not sure if it's the trajectory of a lack of lucidity or somehow related to the chemistry of it. [ Like a bad acid trip. ]

Thank you, [ Yusuf takes Eames' device, glad to have something a little more like realism (manuals, instructions, restrictions and the like) at his fingertips. Then again, there is a lot of information here. He has barely scrolled through half of it (perusing the titles and getting a feel for the length of the text) when the elevator dings open. When they're both inside, Eames hits the 9 button and it glows a subtle golden color.

Why Yusuf finds himself noting this (as if he might use it later, as if he might need it later) is a self-proclaimed mystery. ]

Deities... [ Are you entirely sure? Because Yusuf is giving you the are you entirely sure you aren't barking look right now... ] Right. So are we talking naked white men or blue four armed destroyers? [ And, even though it's a little ridiculous sounding, he still provides his reasoning-- scientific inquiry is a hard process to unlearn. ] The chemicals might have an influence on the frequency, possibly the shifts, but the representations will give an idea as to who's mind we're traipsing through.

A few weeks ago, Arthur had the rather firm belief that he was a cat. [ Eames returns Yusuf's look with one of his own, the sort of don't fuck with me I know what I'm talking about type of focus before he looks down at their feet - Yusuf's shoes in particular, then back up to his bearded mouth, his eyes. ]

It's all over the bloody place, honestly. There are talking dragons. I was gouged by a unicorn. Death doesn't take us anywhere but remaining here with a stilled heartbeat.

Well, at least we know he was in good hands. [ Considering the way Eames spoils the cats at Yusuf's place...

Worriedly, Yusuf thinks back to the carousel and is kind of glad he didn't go exploring. His mouth forms the words 'gouged by a unicorn' and suddenly the joking way he'd proposed a very similar idea to Arthur not twenty minutes prior seems almost in bad taste. Must be something in the air down here. ] Hence... not being able to kick out.

[ The which I am assuming you have already tried is unspoken but heavily implied. Yusuf's fingers itch to feel for a pulse at Eames' scarred wrist. ]

He wouldn't stop licking himself. [ Eames grimaces pointedly here, but he has little more to say of it as they reach the ninth floor, doors sliding open. Without much pause, he steps out into the carpeted hall, pulling his keys from his front left pocket as they approach the flat he and Arthur share. ]

Arthur will be able to fill you in better on the attempt, [ he clarifies lightly, slotting the key into the lock and tipping it open. Right before he eases the door out, though, he almost forgets to mention: ] Er, we've a puppy. Long story, that bit.

[ How to best explain Arthur's previous temporary lack of sight and now memory loss... He'll let the pointman figure that one out. He nudges the door the rest of the way open with his shoulder, opening it wide for them both. ]

[ When the door opens, it opens onto the scene of Arthur picking Pancake up, holding him under his arm. His jacket draped over one of the kitchen chairs, the corgi keeps scrabbling at the point man's waistcoat, trying to get free in order to charge the newcomer. He hears just the last sentence and his brow quirks as he nods at both Eames and Yusuf. ]

Name's Pancake. Don't ask me why. It was Ariadne's idea.

[ As if on cue, Pancake proceeds to yip. Loudly. It's close to a bark, but not quite. Arthur blinks down at him and holds his muzzle for a second only to contradict the discipline by scratching behind his ears, but it doesn't matter; Pancake shuts up for the moment. ]

[ Fabulous. The first time he's seen Arthur in a while and the only thing Yusuf can think of is Eames saying He wouldn't stop licking himself. He is going to strangle the forger in his sleep.

Yusuf moves himself into the apartment hastily, seeing the wiggling dog in Arthur's arms and the way Eames guards the door. The training is obviously a work in progress. To say Arthur looks out of place affectionately scritching a plump little dog behind the ears would be an understatement.

Then again. Unicorns. ]

I am a little disappointed he is not wearing a scarf, being that you let Ariadne name him.

He used to have one. He turned it into a toy, is all.

[ Eames corrects wryly, rolling his shoulders as he shuts the door behind them once they're both fully inside, locking it with a turn of the bolt. He leans back against it, then, unbuttoning a few of the fastenings at his collar even further as he gazes at Yusuf, then Arthur, then back to Yusuf again. ]

Where should we start, then? Tea, Yusuf?

[ With the door shut, Arthur sets the dog down, absently smoothing his palms down the lines of his waistcoat, frowning a little as Pancake noses around Yusuf's feet before deciding to start running into Eames' shins instead. At the mention of tea however he looks up again. ]

Kettle's already on. [ If neither of them wants it, that's fine, but Arthur already has a pot of coffee going for himself. He heads to the kitchen in any case, tossing his next words over his shoulder. ] There's coffee too. [ As if either of them prefer it - but fair to put the offer there and none of the explanations they have are going to necessarily be short.

Remembering how he couldn't believe it himself, Arthur is perhaps prepared for more skepticism than strictly likely from the chemist, but it's hard to say with someone who's not usually one for going into the field in the first place. Asking what Eames has already covered is redundant; he figures he'll find out soon just by the questions Yusuf still has worth asking. ]

[ The dog is a flurry of movement by Eames' feet, either begging for attention or attempting to bowl him over with nothing more than its furious headbutting against his shins. Yusuf has never been an animal person, the cats had originally been an inexpensive solution to an occasional mouse problem- and now they were permanent residents. He has honestly forgotten what it's like to not wake up to a feline kneading his shins through the light sheets-- an alarm he never needs to set because when the cats are hungry, Yusuf knows. The little dog, Pancake, is... considerably more forceful in his affections.

If Yusuf finds it strange that they're living together, he doesn't say anything. If he finds it odd that the two seem in the habit of drinking caffeinated beverages well past midnight, he's good about keeping that to himself. And if he happens to notice that Arthur is the one to put the kettle on, as if he knows how Eames likes to come home, well, those observations are for another conversation.

Right now, Yusuf has enough questions to warrant the tea, and finds the idea more than appealing. ] If you have milk, I could go for a cuppa.

[ Eames more or less parries Pancake around like a fur-covered soccer ball, a few steps of fancy footwork reversing the herding so he doesn't trip over him entirely on his way to the kitchen. He's never been much of a cat nor dog nor bird person, but that Yusuf kept having mice issues and if Eames kept finding adorable baby kittens in boxes in shade quickly fading away while perusing the streets of Mombasa, well, he'd tell anyone he's just an opportunist but he thinks Yusuf knows otherwise (probably better.) ]

A cuppa it is, then.

[ Usually he would snipe that Yusuf could very well make his own tea, too picky for his own good no matter Eames' efforts (though they're more lazy ones than anything else). Still, he does figure the least he could do is prepare the man's tea in, well, preparation for everything else. He sets about steeping leaves, placing the mesh on top of two mugs and adding hot water as needed, letting it soak for now. ]

[ Arthur leaves it all to Eames for the moment, drawing his own already-poured cup of coffee to his mouth and leaning back against one corner of the counter. Pancake has taken to scuttling about the floor, his paws never quite gaining traction they require because his movement is so haphazard. Still not sure where to begin, he waits a few moments before saying anything else at all, his glance returning to Yusuf and wondering precisely what the last thing he remembers happens to be. ]

I assume you still have questions.

[ It's no less than saying Shoot. ]

Thank you. [ Yusuf wouldn't be able to make his own tea considering this is the first time he's seen Arthur's (Eames'? Their?) kitchen. He has no idea where the cups and spoons are, let alone the less intuitive accouterments to brewing tea!

The face he makes is animated, to say the least. Yusuf is the least of Pancakes worries, it would seem, but the chemist still keeps his gaze oriented more towards the floor whenever the scrabbling noises get closer to him. He supposes the only place to start is from the beginning. Fishing his device from the pocket of his trousers, Yusuf's hand encounters two-- his own, and Eames'. Taking a moment to compare them, Yusuf puts the one with the half-scrolled through manual on the counter for Eames to pick up at his leisure. Holding his device up, Yusuf waggles it a bit. ]

I suppose first things first. What are these? Why do I have one? How do I use it and what do I need to know to utilize it? [ They'll get into dream semantics and whether the two of them think this is a dream or... well. Yes. They'll get to that later. For now, Yusuf just wants to make sure he can avoid the mass call he'd made earlier this evening. ]

That is your device. Everyone ends up with one upon their arrival here. It works like a smartphone, really - you can send private messages, make posts on the network, call specific people, take video, photos, et cetera.

[ Eames waves a hand, briefly, before turning back to the mugs, checking the darkness of the tea. Satisfied, he adds half of the cup's volume in milk to Yusuf's (he could swear Yusuf and Arthur are born of the same ilk who put too much of anything into something they should just let be), a smaller dash to his own. Yusuf's cup gets passed off to him before he begins searching for the honey for himself. ]

It has the uncanny ability to turn itself on, on accident, however, so if the LED light turns on when you'd rather it not- well, should cut it out right away.

[ Eames having covered both the cuppa and the device's rundown, Arthur sips his coffee almost leisurely. Yusuf's arrival could mean any number of things, too many of which Arthur can think up on the spot so he shoves that questionable productivity behind a door for the moment, the fingertips of his free hand pressing in absent patterned movement on the counter top. ]

And, ninety percent of the time, you can't get rid of anything it does capture, so don't waste your time trying if it doesn't work on the first shot.

[ As Yusuf inspects the milk to tea ratio (Eames' accuracy isn't in question here, the precision however...) he turns the handle of the cup to align with his right hand for easier access. Its a valiant attempt on Eames' part and honestly, few others know Yusuf's tea preferences so he just nods his thanks. ]

I cannot imagine I would have it around while delineating my nefarious plots, but I will keep that in mind. [ Aimed more toward Arthur than Eames, Yusuf asks the inevitable question. ] Although, I have to wonder why you continue with this... device, if it is so troublesome. What attempts have you made to eject yourselves from the dream?

[ Eames' answer is welcomed of course, but of the three of them, Eames is obviously the more adaptable and Arthur is more likely to have answers. He has known Eames long enough to know that a lot of the forger's ideas and interpretations are based on conjectures, nebulous gut feelings that result in a lot of hand waving and dismissal when inquired after-- things that Yusuf can't work with right now. Yusuf needs the facts, and then he can start in on the outliers. ]

v o i c e ] [ 001

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