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[taking_point]

[ on break, drinking coffee, watching passerby. ]

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[generousimpulse.livejournal.com]

[America was the last stop Eames really wanted, especially outside of California, but he had agreed to the meet and so was loitering on a park bench, waiting. The contact said he'd be approached, and it was a way of handling it that Eames hated.

Not caring about the people that snapped at him, he lit up and took a long drag, watching the kid in uniform carefully.]

[taking_point]

[ It's Eames' luck that Arthur spots him lighting up. Mostly because it gives him a good reason to go over to the other man.

Yeah, Arthur might be a beat cop, but that doesn't mean he doesn't get paid to look the other way or occasionally facilitate some drops. This one was just papers. He didn't know what for, or why, that wasn't his job to ask.

(That was a lie, he'd looked at what he could. Forgery, it looked like. It never hurt to have dirt on those that owned you.)

So he tossed his half-empty coffee into the trash and started walking over. ]

Hey. [ His accent was not as thick as some, but it was still native; more like 'ey' than pronouncing the whole word. ] This is public property, no smokin'.

[generousimpulse.livejournal.com]

[Sitting back on the bench, Eames took a slow drag from the cigarette. He held the smoke in his lungs for a long time, watching Arthur with a bemused expression.

After a time he exhaled, slowly, letting the bluish smoke wreath around his head.]

You're really going to give me shite for smoking outside? Take a step back and you wouldn't even have to smell it, Constable.

[Purposefully using the term and playing up his accent, thicker and heavier, like a tourist rather than a man waiting for some papers.]

[taking_point]

[ Arthur looks at Eames blankly, distinctly unimpressed or even threatened. Even for someone not much past the drinking age, he still manages it well. ]

I'm gonna give you shit for smokin' in a park, [ And he points up, at the no smoking sign nearby ], or can't you read?

[ He really should have just been handing over the papers tucked into his jacket, but there was something in him that wanted to give the guy a bit of a hard time before he did. ]

And it's deputy, not your fancy English terms.

[generousimpulse.livejournal.com]

[Eames raises his gaze to look at the sign. He took his time, staring at it before smiling. His gaze dropped to Arthur.]

There's no words on the sign. Just a cigarette and some red lines and circles. Is that like sign language?

[Pushing buttons all because he could.]

I thought melting pot meant being accepting.

[taking_point]

[ He twists his lips into a slight scowl, even as he also feels a smirk wanting to crawl onto them. This guy was a piece of work. ]

Yeah, it's sign language, and I'd show you sommore but I'm not allowed to do that at work.

[ He pulls out his ticketing book, also at the same time pulling out the yellow envelope that holds the paper's he's supposed to give to Eames, and starts writing on the little pad. ]

If you wanted accepting, you shoulda gone to California.

[generousimpulse.livejournal.com]

[Eames made a gasp, covering his mouth with one hand, looking stunned.]

Why officer, I'm entirely stunned by your behavior. How vulgar.

[He took another drag, shaking his head.]

And I was in California. They're bitchier about smoking than you are. [Except a brow arched at the envelope, his expression darkening. They were using cops? Nice.]

[paisleythief.livejournal.com]

* So there's a cop sitting not ten feet from him, directly diagonal to the table Eames is sitting at. That doesn't mean anything. Doesn't mean the location has been leaked, or that his cover's blown. Chances are it doesn't mean anything considering a cop wouldn't walk right in, gear on and everything, if he had been tipped off to the drop about to happen.

Still. Eames eyes him over the rim of his cuppa. *

[taking_point]

[ Arthur cradles his cup in his hand and enjoys the scent of coffee, good coffee. The stuff at the precinct is shit. This is technically his lunch break, but he'll spend it on coffee and a croissant if he wants, dammit.

And the guy vaguely giving him the stink eye.

Arthur doesn't know what he's up to. If he works for the locals, Arthur doesn't need to (and can turn a blind eye). If he's going to pull something stupid, well, that's what Arthur's here to stop.

But for now, he merely arches an eyebrow at him. ]

Somethin' on my face?

[paisleythief.livejournal.com]

* He had honestly thought he hadn't been that obvious, it wasn't as if he could really look at the other given, well, the getup and whatnot. That the copper notices is bad, but not quite as bad as him noticing and not saying anything. That he does, means he's either got balls of steel-- or he doesn't suspect anything.

Eames sets the cup down on the table, licking his lips (a practiced distraction, a test of sorts) to chase the tea from them. *

Two eyes, a couple eyebrows, a nose-- you know, the usual.

* Bless America and their free speech-- though with all the noise going on in Manhattan, perhaps he shouldn't be trying his luck with such flippancy. *

[taking_point]

[ Arthur, even at this younger age ( 23 is young, even for a cop) has honed his skills of observation. It's something he privately (and not so privately) prides himself on having.

Practiced distraction or not, Arthur's not inhuman enough to not glance. But that's all he does, is glance, eyes flicking back up to the face attached to those lips.

He takes a sip of his coffee before he answers, swallowing and Adam's apple bobbing. ]

Forgot the mouth, smartass. [ The accent wraps thick around the words; 'smaht ahss.' ] Breakin' my heart, over here, considerin' I'm usin' it to talk to you.

[ Eames might do well to ask what a Brooklyn beat cop is doing in Manhattan, or he might let it pass. ]

[paisleythief.livejournal.com]

* Not many people have the ability to wink at another person and make it seem just friendly. Indeed, few people have the ability to wink at all, mashing the action into a horrible parody of what a wink is supposed to be-- light, flirty if the situation calls for it but friendly long before that. *

Give it time, officer, * Eames however, not only possesses this ability, but happens to be a master at imbuing just the right amount of meaning into a wink. And thus, the cop with the heavy accent is graced with a wink just a shade friendlier than is entirely prudent. (One can never tell how these cops will react to a little innuendo-- especially the American ones.) * I'll get to complimenting that soon enough.

* By way of question, Eames nods at Arthur's coffee. * Long way from Brooklyn for a cuppa.

[taking_point]

[ Arthur may have a heckling Jewish mother, but that doesn't mean he doesn't know his own preferences, despite her constant harping about it. Still, he doesn't react to that so called flirty wink, merely giving the Englishman a droll look. He lets a tiny smirk curl up his lips, though. ]

Sure you will, [ He says, self assured. At the statement, he takes another sip, clearly enjoying it (and maybe exaggerating just the tiniest bit with his pleased noise). ] Best coffee this side of Kings. And considerin' I'm not on the clock but I've got the car, I'll waste their gas.

[generousimpulse.livejournal.com]

[America was the last stop Eames really wanted, especially outside of California, but he had agreed to the meet and so was loitering on a park bench, waiting. The contact said he'd be approached, and it was a way of handling it that Eames hated.

Not caring about the people that snapped at him, he lit up and took a long drag, watching the kid in uniform carefully.]

[taking_point]

[ It's Eames' luck that Arthur spots him lighting up. Mostly because it gives him a good reason to go over to the other man.

Yeah, Arthur might be a beat cop, but that doesn't mean he doesn't get paid to look the other way or occasionally facilitate some drops. This one was just papers. He didn't know what for, or why, that wasn't his job to ask.

(That was a lie, he'd looked at what he could. Forgery, it looked like. It never hurt to have dirt on those that owned you.)

So he tossed his half-empty coffee into the trash and started walking over. ]

Hey. [ His accent was not as thick as some, but it was still native; more like 'ey' than pronouncing the whole word. ] This is public property, no smokin'.

[generousimpulse.livejournal.com]

[Sitting back on the bench, Eames took a slow drag from the cigarette. He held the smoke in his lungs for a long time, watching Arthur with a bemused expression.

After a time he exhaled, slowly, letting the bluish smoke wreath around his head.]

You're really going to give me shite for smoking outside? Take a step back and you wouldn't even have to smell it, Constable.

[Purposefully using the term and playing up his accent, thicker and heavier, like a tourist rather than a man waiting for some papers.]

[taking_point]

[ Arthur looks at Eames blankly, distinctly unimpressed or even threatened. Even for someone not much past the drinking age, he still manages it well. ]

I'm gonna give you shit for smokin' in a park, [ And he points up, at the no smoking sign nearby ], or can't you read?

[ He really should have just been handing over the papers tucked into his jacket, but there was something in him that wanted to give the guy a bit of a hard time before he did. ]

And it's deputy, not your fancy English terms.

[generousimpulse.livejournal.com]

[Eames raises his gaze to look at the sign. He took his time, staring at it before smiling. His gaze dropped to Arthur.]

There's no words on the sign. Just a cigarette and some red lines and circles. Is that like sign language?

[Pushing buttons all because he could.]

I thought melting pot meant being accepting.

[taking_point]

[ He twists his lips into a slight scowl, even as he also feels a smirk wanting to crawl onto them. This guy was a piece of work. ]

Yeah, it's sign language, and I'd show you sommore but I'm not allowed to do that at work.

[ He pulls out his ticketing book, also at the same time pulling out the yellow envelope that holds the paper's he's supposed to give to Eames, and starts writing on the little pad. ]

If you wanted accepting, you shoulda gone to California.

[paisleythief.livejournal.com]

* So there's a cop sitting not ten feet from him, directly diagonal to the table Eames is sitting at. That doesn't mean anything. Doesn't mean the location has been leaked, or that his cover's blown. Chances are it doesn't mean anything considering a cop wouldn't walk right in, gear on and everything, if he had been tipped off to the drop about to happen.

Still. Eames eyes him over the rim of his cuppa. *

[taking_point]

[ Arthur cradles his cup in his hand and enjoys the scent of coffee, good coffee. The stuff at the precinct is shit. This is technically his lunch break, but he'll spend it on coffee and a croissant if he wants, dammit.

And the guy vaguely giving him the stink eye.

Arthur doesn't know what he's up to. If he works for the locals, Arthur doesn't need to (and can turn a blind eye). If he's going to pull something stupid, well, that's what Arthur's here to stop.

But for now, he merely arches an eyebrow at him. ]

Somethin' on my face?

[paisleythief.livejournal.com]

* He had honestly thought he hadn't been that obvious, it wasn't as if he could really look at the other given, well, the getup and whatnot. That the copper notices is bad, but not quite as bad as him noticing and not saying anything. That he does, means he's either got balls of steel-- or he doesn't suspect anything.

Eames sets the cup down on the table, licking his lips (a practiced distraction, a test of sorts) to chase the tea from them. *

Two eyes, a couple eyebrows, a nose-- you know, the usual.

* Bless America and their free speech-- though with all the noise going on in Manhattan, perhaps he shouldn't be trying his luck with such flippancy. *

[taking_point]

[ Arthur, even at this younger age ( 23 is young, even for a cop) has honed his skills of observation. It's something he privately (and not so privately) prides himself on having.

Practiced distraction or not, Arthur's not inhuman enough to not glance. But that's all he does, is glance, eyes flicking back up to the face attached to those lips.

He takes a sip of his coffee before he answers, swallowing and Adam's apple bobbing. ]

Forgot the mouth, smartass. [ The accent wraps thick around the words; 'smaht ahss.' ] Breakin' my heart, over here, considerin' I'm usin' it to talk to you.

[ Eames might do well to ask what a Brooklyn beat cop is doing in Manhattan, or he might let it pass. ]

[paisleythief.livejournal.com]

* Not many people have the ability to wink at another person and make it seem just friendly. Indeed, few people have the ability to wink at all, mashing the action into a horrible parody of what a wink is supposed to be-- light, flirty if the situation calls for it but friendly long before that. *

Give it time, officer, * Eames however, not only possesses this ability, but happens to be a master at imbuing just the right amount of meaning into a wink. And thus, the cop with the heavy accent is graced with a wink just a shade friendlier than is entirely prudent. (One can never tell how these cops will react to a little innuendo-- especially the American ones.) * I'll get to complimenting that soon enough.

* By way of question, Eames nods at Arthur's coffee. * Long way from Brooklyn for a cuppa.

[taking_point]

[ Arthur may have a heckling Jewish mother, but that doesn't mean he doesn't know his own preferences, despite her constant harping about it. Still, he doesn't react to that so called flirty wink, merely giving the Englishman a droll look. He lets a tiny smirk curl up his lips, though. ]

Sure you will, [ He says, self assured. At the statement, he takes another sip, clearly enjoying it (and maybe exaggerating just the tiniest bit with his pleased noise). ] Best coffee this side of Kings. And considerin' I'm not on the clock but I've got the car, I'll waste their gas.