InsaneJournal

WHO: Ariadne, Eames
WHAT: Talking the first day of the body swap, after Eames helped Cas
WHEN: (Backdated) Saturday morning, August 20th
WHERE: Ariadne's rooms
RATING/WARNINGS: PG-13 / Mild swearing
STATUS: Closed / Incomplete (partial placeholder - will be finished/added in here later)


Daniel hadn’t told him very much, but then the boy had hardly glanced at him once he proved that yes, he was Eames. It was a bit confusing, but given that Eames hardly even sounded like himself, never mind looking like himself, he supposed it couldn’t be helped. Daniel had told him that Ariadne was staying in her rooms for now, though, so Eames had taken off at a run (again) for the East Wing (again) and soon arrived outside Ariadne’s door.

“Ariadne, sweetheart, open up,” he said loudly, then knocked on the door a few times. After a complete lack of response, Eames swore quietly to himself, still a bit thrown by how different he sounded, and then turned back to the door. “If you don’t open this door, I’m going to pick the lock. I want to see you, Ariadne, we need to talk. You need to swear at me and shout at me and tell me what you thought was bullshit... you did say that, right?”

Even as he spoke, he was getting his wallet out of his back pocket and dropping to his knees. A quick hunt around the insides of the wallet turned up a set of lock picks and it was easy work to have the door swinging open shortly after that.

“Ariadne?” he called, closing the front door behind him.

Ariadne hadn’t minded helping take care of Eames at all, nor had she minded keeping an eye on Arthur to make sure he was okay and not going out to attempt murder. She hadn’t minded Daniel about, of course, and had done the best she could to ensure he wouldn’t feel neglected or somehow more scarred over the matter than he possibly already did. What she had minded was, still, the situation Eames had been in and the subsequent injuries. She hated seeing him in pain. Even thinking back to the prior day, the very idea bothered her.

Of course, even on morphine he was being his usual charming self, but that hadn’t erased the sensation that went along with the fear she had felt over Arthur’s entry and seeing Eames like that. No one from the team was supposed to get hurt. Not outside of a dream, where they could be saved. She had walked on eggshells, trying to keep herself from blurting too much out, and then -

And then this stupid body swap had come along. Ariadne had gone from 5' 1" (1.55 m) to 6' 3" (1.91 m) and from female to male, and supposedly a male with the ability to create fire or something like that. Even when dealing with the Fischer job and Dom, she had her moments when she had to step away and say enough was enough. A few days to work on classwork, a cup of coffee, even just mental breaks were necessary for that. This - this was enough to make her want to step away in a larger way.

She had told Andy to go help his friend in Eames’ body, knowing he was more needed elsewhere, and had then told Eames the same when he had said it was necessary to get the drugs to the poor man. Frankly, Ariadne agreed. Furthermore, she really didn’t want to talk.

It had taken her a moment to realize it was Eames at the door, but she felt the immediate desire to be a bit petulant when he threatened to pick the lock after a hesitation on her part. If he wanted practice picking it, he could do just that! She continued to sit right where she was, unmoved, in her bathroom on the floor. It provided something mildly different to stare at, when it came to looking at the same walls for hours, and she liked the idea of being near the bathtub when she figured out how to create fire. It seemed much larger and more controllable to put any fire out versus the fireplace.

And there was the noise of Eames getting in. And - her name. She sighed and glanced toward the doorway, answering back in Dustfinger’s unfamiliar voice. “I’m not shouting at you.”

"Then I'll have to come in and talk to you," he replied, following the sound of her voice into her bathroom as he spoke. He stood in the doorway for a moment and watched her as she sat there, staring at nothing, before moving to sit cross-legged on the floor in front of her.

"This is... very different from how I imagined this conversation would happen. For one thing, we’d be in our correct bodies, and I wouldn’t sound like... like this, I am apparently a redneck or something, but beggars can't be choosers and all that." Reaching forward, he gently put his hand on her knee. "Thank you. I don't remember everything, but I remember enough. So, thank you. I wanted to say that before you tell me off for scaring everyone."

Sitting back after that, he objectively looked up and down her new body, noticing how she looked awkward in her posture and how she held herself. "And if you'd like any help on adapting to... well, this," and he gestured towards her, "and I don't just mean dealing with going to the toilet or whatever, I'm talking about learning how to walk comfortably or dealing with your new height, anything, just ask. I've had to do this countless times, I should be able to help."

Was she taller than Eames? It certainly seemed that way, as she stared at the unfamiliar body with the oh-so-familiar mannerisms. She was a male, taller than Eames, could produce fire (though she had yet to figure it out,) and he was a hick. How in the world had it really come down to this? She wasn’t sure who would’ve dreamed up such a scenario, if it weren’t reality.

“You’ll have to come in and talk to me? And I’m not telling you off, either, Eames. Nor am I swearing at you. These bodies or the regular ones.” She paused only briefly to give him a look to convey just how serious she was before adding, “And I mean it - I’m not swearing in English or French.”

She shifted her position a little, reaching up to brush some of the ginger colored hair out of her eyes as she tried to figure out how to answer the thank you and offer for help. She already felt a bit like squirming being in someone else’s body, literally uncomfortable in her own skin, but figuring out how to answer didn’t really help to calm her down. “I probably need a bit of help doing such, if this is going to last as long as some of the other stuff has. And I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t wondered how you make forging look so easy in dreams... but Daniel also said that this body can produce fire or - something along those lines. I’m a little mystified past how to use the restroom. I think I can figure the basics out there.” She shook her head, trailing off.

Oh Christ, a Serious Look. "Whyever not? Swearing in French is sometimes incredibly therapeutic, and it always sounds like you're saying something incredibly profound or reciting some beautiful poetry. Well, unless you're good at French and know what the person's saying, in which case, it sounds like they're just swearing." He shifted positions so that he had his back to the bath. "I wouldn't mind knowing why you don't want to tell me off, either." He laughed a little bit at her comment about making forging look easy, then stopped short when he actually heard his new laugh. Huh.

He ducked his head and scratched at the back of his neck, then looked back at Ariadne. She looked beyond uncomfortable, while he was simply glad to not be off his face on opiates or lying crippled in his bed but then again, he was used to switching skins and personas. Just... not while he was awake, but that went without saying. “I can show you a few things, then. And just think, when I start teaching you to Forge, you’ll have a head start because you already know how it feels to be the opposite gender and to change your height and so on. It’s educational,” he rambled, then tilted his head a little bit and considered things a bit more. “And it’s also temporary, pet. The truth-telling thing is finished, and I got my sight back, so this has to be just as temporary. I don’t intend to be stuck in a non-smoking redneck’s body for any longer than I have to be, let me tell you.”

"I was swearing in French because I had to tell the truth and I was hoping you wouldn't be lucid enough to grasp onto what I was saying. Obviously that worked really well." Ariadne smiled faintly, watching Eames as he shifted positions and then laughed. The laugh sounded - odd. She had heard Eames in forgeries, but somehow this sounded seemed off to her. Perhaps it was because Eames seemed like himself in another body, rather than in character as the subject. “I didn’t want to go on in any language about things you really didn’t need to hear in that sort of a state.”

The faint smile faded as her mind turned back to the topic of why she wouldn’t tell Eames off. "And it isn’t that I don’t want to tell you off. I won’t tell you off, though. Yelling, swearing, huffing, looking at you with a sharp glare - what is that going to get across to you? Really? What is that going to fix?” Ariadne shook her head a little, pushing the ginger colored hair out of her eyes as it slipped into them again. She really did miss having her own hair. Still, she continued on in a matter-of-fact, stating tone.

“I don’t know what you do and don’t remember, or what you’ve been told and remember if anything, but Arthur found you and posted a frantic entry. He said he was unsure if there was internal bleeding. After a day of watching Daniel, which included me dealing with a cop asking questions about you, I ran from my room to yours at full speed with him in tow... trying to figure out how to keep Daniel from being traumatized and Arthur from going out after whomever had done this while also trying not to think about what might happen to you. So it wasn’t a simple case of worrying us a tad. But - thanks weren’t and aren’t necessary because you’re utterly crazy if you think I wouldn’t be there again in a heartbeat if you, Daniel, or Arthur needed me for anything like that or - anything else, really... but you’re not getting off so easy as to be told off. And you had better not do it again or anything along those lines.”

“And - wait, what?” Ariadne had heard him, and yet it took a few minutes for it to sink in that he said when he taught her how to forge. Once the topic of why she wouldn’t tell him off was stated, the idea of learning to forge started to sink in. She froze for a moment, then looked over at him a bit wide-eyed. “Wait, you think I could learn to forge? And - okay, yes, I’m sure it is temporary too. Still, I don’t want to wake up in the middle of the night to find that I’ve set the bedsheets on fire in the literal sense. That part of it would have absolutely no educational value.”

She glanced down, then to the side before looking back at Eames again and admitting one last thing. “Though - it is somewhat fun to be able to say that I’m taller than you. Even if it feels odd.”