A/N Hey guys, sorry for another skipped chapter of Learning; I promise I'll try to get things together soon, but as it stands, I found this and the other thing I'm posting tonight in an old notebook I'd honestly forgotten about, so hopefully they'll be good enough while I try desperately to get a full Learning chapter together next week! Anyway, don't expect this to be finished any time soon, but I hope you enjoy it thus far nonetheless!
Ezio did not like drinking. Of all the strange little things I knew about him, that had always struck me as one of the strangest, but I had never doubted the truth of it. I'd discovered that fact on one exceptionally average evening, when he'd come by only for a friendly visit, no codex pages or damaged weapons in sight. I'd offered him a glass of wine and he'd refused it, proceeding to tell me of the embarrassingly low tolerance for alcohol that ran on his father's side the family. Apparently his mother could drink with the best of them, a trait which she'd passed to both his brother and sister, whilst he, in his own words, was knocked on his ass by not much more than one drink.
He'd smiled when he said it, and then recalled the first and only time he and his brother had broken into their father's liquor cabinet, wherein his perfectly sober brother had managed to get him to do all manner of foolish things after he'd downed a single drink. From that point on, he said, he didn't touch the stuff unless it was absolutely necessary, and even then he generally only took a few sips and hoped everyone he was with was getting too drunk to notice. Though I expected he often kept things from me if he felt them too dangerous, I knew well enough that he had no reason to lie about something like that, which I knew he likely saw as being faintly shameful. That, of course, was why it was such a large shock to me to find him sitting in a bar, of all places, not even wearing his Assassin's robes.
What was perhaps more of a shock, however, was the man with whom he sat. He was a younger man, perhaps even a few years younger than Ezio himself, with dark, close-cut hair and wide, equally dark eyes. Still, he sat stiffly, and he dressed in the heavy, ornate armor I knew could belong only to a Papal guard, though I imagined that he had been promoted to the post relatively recently. There was a lingering awkwardness to him despite his size, the sort that suggested he wasn't used to the weight of the armor he wore, but even still I knew he was deadly, especially given that Ezio was not wearing his armor.
I wondered how he'd managed to end up where he was, mostly, how he could've possibly gotten caught up in a conversation with a Papal guard, of all people, but then again, Ezio was nothing if not charismatic. He drew people to him, both with his rather striking looks and his friendly, open demeanor, especially when he was free of the weight of his robes. At least, I supposed, he didn't look nervous, or as if he wished to escape, but I knew well enough how skilled of an actor he could be. Still, if it was important, or perhaps a part of a job, I did not want to ruin it, and so, I stayed back, just out of sight but close enough that I could still vaguely hear what was being said.
"It is almost impossible to believe, finally having a break from hunting the assassino. It is as if I've done nothing else since I was promoted to Papal guard," he mumbled, shaking his head, and Ezio grinned, a mischievous twinkle lighting his eyes. It always had amused him, how none ever suspected that he was the man beneath the assassin's hood. For myself, I simply found it astounding that no one was able to connect them by way of the strange gold of his eyes, but then I supposed that most who got close enough to see his eyes when he wore that robe did not live to tell of it.
"I am sure. Still, I have not heard much of him for a while," He answered, wide, foolish smile stretching his lips and making the scar shine.
"By now I think the Borgia are so obsessed that we would be hunting him even if he were proven dead." The ease with which Ezio could play the role of a harmless playboy sometimes astounded me. Mostly I suppose it was simply strange to think of him being able to lie so fluidly when with me it always seemed like a heavy, simple to spot sort of thing. In a way it made me wonder if he did that purposefully, and I suppose it should've made me think that perhaps he only did that so I wouldn't be suspicious if he ever wished to lie about something important, and yet I couldn't bring myself to ever imagine that. Perhaps I trusted him too much, but I couldn't envision that trust ever fading.
"I would not have expected one in your position to sound bothered by that," he said, light, and the guard shrugged as best he could in the heavy armor, looking almost embarrassed, as if worried that Ezio would have preferred him to say the opposite.
"Most aren't, though I think some is for show. They think that the people, the ladies especially, admire it when they call out all the bloody things they will do when they catch the assassin, but to speak frankly, it seems foolish to me. I do not support the assassin's methods, but he seems to have a sense of… honor, I suppose is the word for it. He does not kill civilians, and they've noticed that. Many no longer even flinch when they see him, instead only getting out of the way so that he can fight whoever he wishes to and leave, as he always does. I've always felt that my loyalty was to them first, and if he does not trouble them… I suppose I simply think that there are better things to worry over." Ezio's smile softened, nodding and leaning back in his chair slightly, posture turning truly relaxed.
"I understand that," he said, and the guard looked relieved, as if he'd passed some sort of test.
"I am glad. In any case, I do not think that we would ever catch him anyway; he is a skilled fighter, if one who does not always fight fairly. I at least know that I lost soundly on the one occasion I fought him." Ezio schooled his features into surprise, but in that at least I could see the traces of falseness; he remembered fighting this man, and letting him live, which in itself shocked me. When someone did something worthy of meeting Ezio's blade, he did not generally let them walk away.
"Truly? I do not think I've ever met anyone who has fought him." The guard nodded, not looking particularly proud as I would've expected had he been lying.
"I expect that is because most of them are dead. Even now I'm not certain why he let me live. He didn't speak, you understand, and I saw so little of his face that I couldn't hope to know him if I saw him again. I do not think that I've ever been so confounded by a hood." Ezio did laugh at that, nodding and accepting it easily when the guard leaned closer to him. His posture stayed open and friendly, and he let his eyes go a little hooded. The guard leaned a little closer still, taking another quick sip of his drink before he pushed it away. I stiffened; I'd seen Ezio this way before, more than once, and more often than not it led to a lady being led to wherever he was staying that night and emerging the next morning distinctly pleased. An old, burning jealousy in me that I did not often admit to livened at the look.
"Ah, but I am sure it is an interesting story nonetheless, yes? Perhaps you could tell me more of it." He reached out, let his fingertips play over the guard's hand, soft and quick before he pulled away again. Even at a distance I saw the guard shudder and flush, eyes cast down to one side.
"I could, but it is not an impressive tale. I might begin to think that you are more interested in the assassin than I," he murmured, and Ezio only chuckled, shaking his head.
"How could I be? I have never even seen the assassin. Perhaps he is an ass, or perhaps he is ugly. You, on the other hand, are here before me, and certainly neither of those things." Another shudder, his eyes flickering almost nervously around the bar. He opened his mouth; I was nearly certain that he was about to suggest that they leave, and I could not stand the idea of it, the idea that Ezio would almost assuredly agree to go. I was by their table almost before I even noticed myself beginning to walk.
Ezio offered me a wide smile as soon as he saw me, and his companion, seemed suddenly confused and maybe almost a little hurt when he saw how easily his attention drifted. For myself, I only felt a sharp moment of deep, visceral pleasure I refused to name, glad of the knowledge that I could draw his gaze with such ease even after the situation I'd witnessed. That, at least, let me know that he was no more serious about him than any of the women he'd allowed to share his bed.
"Leonardo! Come, come, sit with us," he said, edging his chair over some to give me room, and the man nearly gaped, annoyance slowly replacing the confusion and the sadness on his face as I took the offer, a smile of my own faintly tilting my lips up.
"Hello, amico mio. Strange to see you here," I said, and he laughed, bright golden eyes shining with mirth.
"And stranger still to see you. This does not seem your sort of haunt," he responded, and I shrugged slightly.
"Ah, but it is the preferred haunt of a very well paying client. He commissioned a painting of the place from me, and I am… admittedly a bit behind." He offered me a look that assured me how clearly he knew that "a bit behind" almost surely meant something closer to "it must be done by this time next week and I have yet to even make a sketch." He knew me as well as I knew him, after all. He nodded, tilting his head back to the guard and waving a hand towards me.
"Anthony, this is a very good friend of mine, Leonardo da Vinci. I am sure that you have heard of him, given your line of work," he said, eyes still glittering.
"I have," he said, sounding as if he wished precisely the opposite. "I would not have thought that you would find yourself drawn to such company." His eyes were dark, when they looked at me, very dark, and I wondered for a moment what, precisely, he meant, before Ezio's smile softened.
"Whatever you may have heard, I swear to you that Leonardo would not willingly hurt a fly; he will not even eat meat, he is so soft hearted." The guard didn't look convinced, but nodded nonetheless, tipping his own drink to his lips and downing a large gulp of it. Ezio raised his own glass and pretended to sip. I don't think the guard noticed that he never swallowed.
"Perhaps. Still, I find that somewhat hard to believe of a man who creates machines for war. I have heard that the assassin has been targeting them rather… aptly, however. Ah, and how is it you met, by the way? As I said, I'd have thought your circles would not intersect." I frowned but didn't comment, instead only raising a hand to call someone to bring me a drink of my own. Ezio inclined his head towards me lightly and paid for my drink when it arrived, almost certainly slipping a little extra into the hand of the lady, who I vaguely recalled seeing near his sister or his mother at one point or another.
"I said that he would not hurt another willingly, not that his intelligence has not been used for cruel things by cruel people. In any case, I met him when I was perhaps seventeen; I found myself suddenly in need of work and he allowed me to serve as his assistant for a time, though my skill at painting was abysmal and never got any better. He had been my best friend since then," he said, flashing me a bright grin, and I did my best to return the expression despite the ache in my chest.
I recalled more than once him striding stormily into my workshop, unwilling to tell me what was wrong, but I knew the reason for it well enough even if I'd learned it accidentally through an overheard conversation between Ezio and La Volpe about me. He'd been worried because some of his comrades thought that I had betrayed them, that I was nothing more than a Templar spy who'd finally shown his true colors, and they wished me to be dealt with.
He'd told them that they were wrong, of course, had forbid them from acting, but he was still nervous that some would take it into their own hands and come after me, willing to face the consequences since they thought that it would be for the greater good. He'd asked La Volpe to have some of his thieves look after me from a distance, and to help convince the younger assassins that I was yet on their side even if I was not a part of the order myself. I'd never let on that I'd heard them that day, mumbling to one another in the back of my workshop. He never mentioned it to me, almost certainly unwilling to frighten me. In a way, I half-wished it was different, that he was not so determined to protect me, that for once he would let me protect him instead.
"I suppose I do not know him well enough to say for myself. I am surprised that he kept you as an assistant rather than a model, however; one would think that any painter would imagine you a blessing!" He grinned, hand settling lightly on Ezio's leg, brows raised. Ezio laughed, loud and a little false, head thrown back to show off the long, lean line of his neck.
"Oh, I am in the background of a painting or three, though only because he knows my face and it is convenient to use when he needs someone anonymous for a public place." The guard let his grin tighten into a smirk, teasing and yet lusty. I could've hit him, then, hopefully hard enough to knock the look from his face. The urge only worsened when Ezio responded in kind.
"Only that? Were I a painter, I would certainly take advantage of your presence and paint you constantly. I imagine that you would make a fine angel," he said, leaning a bit closer, and Ezio only chuckled, not protesting, apparently uncaring that I yet sat right beside him.
"A devil, more like," he said, teasing glint shining bright in his eyes.
"Oh? I am not sure that I believe you. Surely no devil could be blessed with a face like yours." Ezio let his hand settle atop the guard's, fingertips quick and light, obviously not unwilling to accept the advances, and yet it still bothered me, lighting an old fire in my blood I'd long sought to deny.
"They say that the best devils are those that can tempt the righteous to sin."
"Ah, but do you only tempt, or do you fulfill your wicked promises?" Another laugh, and Ezio let his voice go low and rough, his eyes darkening and his full lips parting.
"Who knows? Perhaps we should leave and we shall both find that answer." I never imagined that a man could gain his feet as quickly as the guard did then, nearly dragging Ezio from the tavern the moment the words were uttered. Again, though, I found myself unable to stand it and uncaring if Ezio had a reason for his seduction.
"Wait, amico mio, just a moment! I am sorry to interrupt, but I'm afraid I need you this evening. There have been a few rather unwholesome looking men lingering around my workshop in recent days, and I fear they plan to rob me; I had hoped that your presence might dissuade them." It wasn't a very good lie, I knew that, but Ezio believed me without a second thought, and I could only bring myself to feel a little guilty about that.
"Of course, Leonardo. You've done so much for me that a night is nothing. Apologies, Anthony; perhaps you would not mind meeting me here again tomorrow evening?" The guard's rage was almost palpable, but he agreed even still and left alone with little more than a lingering hand upon Ezio's shoulder. "Did you wish to return to your home now, or are we waiting a while?"
"I had hoped to create at least a sketch of this place before I left." He smiled, soft and fond, and nodded, settling beside me again and watching my hand move over the paper. I sketched a vague outline of the tavern first, placed the tables and the chairs and the pillars, and then came loose sketches of the people, women bouncing around with trays of drinks, drunks laughing loudly at the tables, the owner behind the bar gazing over all of them. It was simple work, something I could've done with an eye closed, but welcome for that.
I knew the moment I'd drawn enough; I'd started fleshing out the most basic of facial features on all the patrons I'd chosen to draw, and I was certain that I could fill in the remaining blanks with ease in a later, more in-depth sketch. I nodded to myself, tucking the page I'd been drawing on beneath my arm, and stood, Ezio following just behind me every step of the way.