Chapter Text
"I designed a happy childhood memory," Ariadne said, staring up at the sodden sky of their latest mark's subconscious with a disgruntled expression; "What's happy about rain?"
Arthur checked his watch -- nearly thirty minutes before they needed to meet Eames outside the mark's hometown library; he could spare a handful for indulgence -- and retrieved a previously non-existent umbrella from his satchel. He shook it open, then wrapped his arm around Ariadne's shoulder and leaned in for a kiss when she joined him under its shelter; "I can think of a few things," he said as the rain fell in a curtain of silver streaks and white noise around the umbrella's rim, closing them into a tiny private world where only they were real.
Ariadne smiled.