Chapter Text
Alec says, “I heard that Eames was sick.” Alec’s voice is the poster child for concern. If you looked up concern in the dictionary, there would be an instruction to find an audio file of Alec’s voice. And Alec looks as if he is going to clasp a hand to Arthur’s shoulder in sympathy.
So Arthur says, “Do not touch me. Yes, he is sick. So it’s just us for today. And I am not in the mood. What the fuck with ‘this is a disagreement over aesthetics’?” Arthur gestures to Alec’s black eye.
Alec actually looks blank. “Well, I think you come across better if we say that than if we say that you just go around randomly punching people.”
“I don’t just—Never mind. Let’s just get this over with. Are you in prime fedora lighting position?”
“What do you mean?” asks Alec. As if he isn’t holding himself in the carefully artificial pose he is because it’s prime fedora lighting position.
“Okay,” says Arthur, who is too fucking exhausted to deal with any of this. “Can we have the envelope?”
Mal hands the envelope across.
Arthur says, “I’m going to assume we’re filming since all of my personal conversations always get put on television because of how constant the filming is.”
Mal nods.
“Who’s going to open the envelope?” Alec asks. “I mean, it’s your turn, but maybe we should—”
Arthur rips open the envelope.
Alec looks startled. “You just…opened the envelope.”
“Yeah,” says Arthur. “That is something that can be done really very quickly and easily.” Arthur turns to the contestants. “Sorry Eames isn’t here, he’s sick, he sends a very inappropriate piece of advice I’m not going to repeat, and here is your challenge: ‘Design a bedroom.’ Okay, good luck, I’m going home.” Arthur hands the envelope to Alec.
Alec looks stunned. So do the contestants.
One of them—the one who made the black micro-apartment last time—says, “That’s it?”
“It’s an opening of an envelope,” Arthur says. “It doesn’t need to take twenty minutes.”
“We didn’t even get to explain about the black eye,” Alec says, and turns to the contestants. “Some of you may be wondering about my black eye.”
Arthur sighs. “I did the stupid interview thing you wanted me to give about the black eye.” Arthur gestures over to Yusuf.
“But they won’t see that until the episode airs, after the challenge is already over, and surely they want to know now,” says Alec smoothly.
“Fine,” says Arthur. “I punched him.”
There is absolutely no reaction to this. Frankly, none of the contestants seem the least bit surprised. They were way more shocked by Arthur’s ability to rip open an envelope without Dramatic Pauses.
That doesn’t stop Alec from holding up a hand as if to calm a riot and saying, “Shocking, shocking. I know. But this is a lesson to all of you.” He rests his hand dramatically upon his chest, over his heart, and Arthur can feel the pun looming. “There is so much hart in design. And I don’t just mean me. Feelings get involved, emotions can run high, and—”
“And obnoxious, rude, idiotic people can insult your boyfriend in your presence for no reason other than a complete and utter inability to stay professional and out of other people’s personal lives,” cuts in Arthur, with a brief glare.
This starts a murmur of reaction in the crowd of contestants.
Alec falters. He obviously hadn’t expected Arthur to tell the truth. Arthur actually isn’t sure Alec would recognize the truth if it bit him on the ass. Alec lives so deep in his own PR machine that he can’t actually recognize genuine emotion, or he wouldn’t go anywhere near Arthur’s feelings for Eames.
Arthur thinks maybe this is the problem. Maybe Alec sincerely doesn’t realize why Arthur was upset that day. Maybe Alec needs it spelled out.
He spells it out. “You want to start fucking ridiculous rumors about me and sex dungeons and orgies, fine, go right ahead. Don’t go near Eames. Not even a step in his direction.”
Alec’s eyes cut over to the contestants, who are rapt with attention. He tries for an easy-going smile, but his voice is cold. “Arthur for violent threats, eh?”
“Arthur for Eames,” says Arthur, and stalks out of the studio.