The Forger

Important character development question: would they lick someone’s hand if they tried to cover their mouth?

  Arthur watched the other, unable to keep his eyes from rolling as the man ‘zipped’ his mouth shut. He almost groaned outright at the childishness, but he was past fed up and was willing to give Eames whatever he wanted if he would just let him finish his work. "I’m sure you can forge my signature," the younger said riffling through some papers and making a small stack. He handed it over to Eames, along with a fountain pen, not need to read them, it’s already done; just sign my name at the bottom. And I do mean my working signature, not my real one. 

Arthur raised a brow at the other, waiting a full minute before speaking. "Don’t kid yourself," he replied, crossing his arms, "I know you have my signature memorized already." He would be shocked to know that Eames didn’t know the ins and outs of his scrawlings when he prided himself on being the best forger out there. They had worked together too many times, and too closely for Eames not to know the ins and outs of every letter Arthur put to paper. "If you really need to practise you can do it in my note pad," he walked over to the man, putting the pad down in front of him and letting his fingers linger on the leather binding. "Eames…" he spoke softly this time, his eyes lingers on the blank page.  He leaned down slowly, kissing the elder on his rough cheek “thanks for staying.”

  Arthur let out a heavy sigh, trying to make sure it would be heard by Eames especially. He really was exasperated and having the Brit here wasn’t going to help in the least. "Fine," he replied, rubbing his hair back. "But you stay quiet unless I speak to you first. I don’t have time to argue and I’d rather get this done now so I can go back to my hotel and sleep."

Arthur watched the other, unable to keep his eyes from rolling as the man ‘zipped’ his mouth shut. He almost groaned outright at the childishness, but he was past fed up and was willing to give Eames whatever he wanted if he would just let him finish his work. "I’m sure you can forge my signature," the younger said riffling through some papers and making a small stack. He handed it over to Eames, along with a fountain pen, not need to read them, it’s already done; just sign my name at the bottom. And I do mean my working signature, not my real one. 

  Arthur rubbed between his brows, watching the other and trying to gather what little control he had left. He was tired, and honestly the only thing keeping him going was the coffee at this point. "It’s instant," he said with a heavy sigh, looking up from his hand and running his tongue over his lip with annoyance. "Look Eames, there is nothing you can do to help. Why are you even here? You should be out celebrating or whatever. I’m not going to run off without saying good-bye or whatever…." He turned to looked back to his desk, feeling a odd pang hit around in his chest as if a fly were stuck in his lungs. 

Arthur let out a heavy sigh, trying to make sure it would be heard by Eames especially. He really was exasperated and having the Brit here wasn’t going to help in the least. "Fine," he replied, rubbing his hair back. "But you stay quiet unless I speak to you first. I don’t have time to argue and I’d rather get this done now so I can go back to my hotel and sleep."

  The brunet leaned back in his chair, his warm finger rubbing under the roughness of his own lip, the heat from his drink there as well. "Maybe later," he replied after a long pause, occupying himself bu gather the remainder of the paper on his desk. He started to skim over them, making various marks with his dying pen.  "I’ve got work to do still, you should go enjoy yourself." 

Arthur looked up properly this time, watching Eames and cringing as he dragged the chair across the floor. He could feel his temper rising as he watched the man, not missing the good natured attempt, but still feeling annoyance for the other.  "I’d rather you didn’t," the brunet tried to protest, standing slowly as he watched Eames take out the flask and sit himself down. "You’re just going to distract me. I don’t need help, and I really don’t need you drinking in here. This is part of my job Eames, you’ve finished your’s. Go."

Arthur rubbed between his brows, watching the other and trying to gather what little control he had left. He was tired, and honestly the only thing keeping him going was the coffee at this point. "It’s instant," he said with a heavy sigh, looking up from his hand and running his tongue over his lip with annoyance. "Look Eames, there is nothing you can do to help. Why are you even here? You should be out celebrating or whatever. I’m not going to run off without saying good-bye or whatever…." He turned to looked back to his desk, feeling a odd pang hit around in his chest as if a fly were stuck in his lungs. 

  The brunet leaned back in his chair, his warm finger rubbing under the roughness of his own lip, the heat from his drink there as well. "Maybe later," he replied after a long pause, occupying himself bu gather the remainder of the paper on his desk. He started to skim over them, making various marks with his dying pen.  "I’ve got work to do still, you should go enjoy yourself." 

Arthur looked up properly this time, watching Eames and cringing as he dragged the chair across the floor. He could feel his temper rising as he watched the man, not missing the good natured attempt, but still feeling annoyance for the other.  "I’d rather you didn’t," the brunet tried to protest, standing slowly as he watched Eames take out the flask and sit himself down. "You’re just going to distract me. I don’t need help, and I really don’t need you drinking in here. This is part of my job Eames, you’ve finished your’s. Go."

Arthur only glanced up, not even needing it really as he heard the rough accent of the elder. He ran his finger around the warm lip of his mug; heated by the dark coffee and his mouth in turn.  The brunet leaned back in his chair, his warm finger rubbing under the roughness of his own lip, the heat from his drink there as well. "Maybe later," he replied after a long pause, occupying himself bu gather the remainder of the paper on his desk. He started to skim over them, making various marks with his dying pen.  "I’ve got work to do still, you should go enjoy yourself."