[ Arthur isn't a very social creature by nature but, to his credit, his encyclopedic knowledge of whatever city he finds himself in makes for good cover most of the time. Good enough to pass as baseline functional, at least. (Nobody ever said he was a miracle worker.) Whenever he's about to hightail it out of one country in exchange for another, he parks himself in front of the laptop for a few hours (a few days if he can spare it, but he usually can't), then he Googles the fuck out of it, pirates a Lonely Planet and tries to memorize all of the phone numbers and addresses that qualify as IN CASE OF EMERGENCY: BREAK GLASS.
It's part habit, part leftover boy scoutism and part straight-up common sense. Even when he wasn't working, the Dreamshare business had a habit of creeping up on a guy and the last thing he wanted was to be caught with his figurative pants down. (Julfa, Azerbaijan, 2007. Arthur had learned his lesson then and the lesson had been, never again.)
He wasn't always like this, of course. An obvious statement maybe, if only because who is perpetually themselves all the time. Certainly not anybody capable of positive growth and definitely not anybody in that rough constellation of people he sometimes (but not always) considered his 'close professional associates'. (He hasn't used the word 'friend' since before Azerbaijan, since before Paris and Mal.)
In three days time he has a meeting booked with the wife of an influential businessman in Mumbai and in the middle of his cross-continental game of hopscotch, he's decided to pay Ariadne a visit. Rather than bootleg his latest travel guide, he suggests that they visit a local bookshop instead. ] I know just the one, [ he says with a crook to his mouth. (Arthur always does; it makes him feel good at his job. And he is good. He keeps reminding himself that.) ]
( post-canon flavor, I CHOOSE YOU!!!! )
It's part habit, part leftover boy scoutism and part straight-up common sense. Even when he wasn't working, the Dreamshare business had a habit of creeping up on a guy and the last thing he wanted was to be caught with his figurative pants down. (Julfa, Azerbaijan, 2007. Arthur had learned his lesson then and the lesson had been, never again.)
He wasn't always like this, of course. An obvious statement maybe, if only because who is perpetually themselves all the time. Certainly not anybody capable of positive growth and definitely not anybody in that rough constellation of people he sometimes (but not always) considered his 'close professional associates'. (He hasn't used the word 'friend' since before Azerbaijan, since before Paris and Mal.)
In three days time he has a meeting booked with the wife of an influential businessman in Mumbai and in the middle of his cross-continental game of hopscotch, he's decided to pay Ariadne a visit. Rather than bootleg his latest travel guide, he suggests that they visit a local bookshop instead. ] I know just the one, [ he says with a crook to his mouth. (Arthur always does; it makes him feel good at his job. And he is good. He keeps reminding himself that.) ]
C'mon, you'll love it.