Piero had to admit that of the many changes that had come with the past two months, most were quite agreeable to him. The curing of the plague made working with Sokolov tolerable. The new Empress Emily's coronation had been a quietly grand thing that made the entire city a much brighter place. Oh, and as one of the Royal Physicians, he was given rather nice accommodations at the palace.

What he was not fond of, however, was this new game of Where The Hell Has Corvo Gone.

Not that Corvo had been easy to find before, but then it was expected that the man would slither through the shadows and pop up just when Piero was least prepared for him to ask with excruciating politeness if he could buy a few more sleeping darts. And honestly now most of his time was spent hovering around the Empress Emily in constant vigil of whatever threats she would face. When he wasn't, though - well, that was the problem. It made Piero nervous. He liked to think that nervousness was prudent. He liked the man well enough, but bad things tended to follow whenever Corvo adamantly made himself unable to be found.

As he came up onto the ramparts, he was panting a bit from the steep stairs, and blinked owlishly at the harsh daylight. First properly clear day in weeks, it seemed. Or maybe he'd just been too busy cooped up delivering the cure to every plague victim in the city. But that work was over, and he had promised to tell Corvo personally, if only he could find the damn man…

He squinted, putting his hands up above his eyes, adjusting his glasses. And as he saw the other end of the palace ramparts, Piero gave a strangled and incoherent scream before bolting forward.

Corvo lifted his head momentarily to see Piero running towards him, but continued to stuff something down the barrel of one of the cannons in a completely nonchalant way. A few more tweaks, a pause to light the fuse, and then, with his usual disregard for gravity and the laws of physics, he hopped up on top of the cannon. It bucked forward with a roar, but he smoothly moved with it, standing on top of it proudly. Smoke shrouded him for a moment - only a moment, thanks to the sea breeze. And out somewhere in the distance, the cannon's irregular shot finally found its way into the ocean, a glint of metal in-between glimmering waves.

Piero was wheezing by the time he finished running down the ramparts. "You… you just…?" He spluttered madly as Corvo hopped down, one leg still unnaturally stiff. "But… that…"

"Was the mask you made me, yes," Corvo said pleasantly.

"But… you…!"

"Just shot it out into the sea." Corvo looked behind him as Piero continued to splutter. "It was a very fine mask. And I thank you for it. But I don't have the need for it any longer."

"That… that was my master work! My Outsider-inspired creation!" Piero had now caught his breath enough to properly wail. "And you just - you just-! In the ocean! …You bloody Serkonian idiot!"

Corvo looked somewhat sheepish as he clasped his hands behind his back. "Well, perhaps it was rude of me, but I think that you can agree times have changed." The other man continued to splutter, red in the face. "…Besides, I'm not entirely an idiot. I'm not foolish enough to completely ignore someone interested in marrying me while pursuing another who barely knows my name."

Piero had been about to ready another round of spluttered invective before Corvo's relatively nonchalant comment caught him completely off-guard. The red rising in his cheeks seemed to flood there more in earnest as he remembered Corvo catching him spying on Callista in the bath. "W-well, I - I was just trying to make sure the young Empress Emily received a proper education in the natural sciences by working with her tutor. Or wanting to work with her tutor." Corvo's expression remained irritatingly pleasant, even as he started to stride towards the stairs leading down off the ramparts. Piero jogged to catch up. "…And what do you mean, someone else? There's nobody, I'm sure -"

"Yes there is," Corvo said smoothly. Piero's eyes darted down to Corvo's leg, noting that he was still walking with a limp. "Red hair, honest-looking face?" Piero stared at Corvo blankly. "…Rather nice figure? Wore a cap? …No?"

As they walked, Piero scoffed lightly. "I'm almost certain you're making her up."

"I most certainly am not. Her name is Cecelia, and she's manager at the Hound Pits now, last I checked. Besides - "

Too late. Piero's interest had already flitted to another topic. "Your leg."

Corvo's shoulders drew in, tight with nervousness. "It's fine. I told you before, it was just a sprain…"

"A sprain would have been healed by now," Piero said with a sniff, adjusting his glasses. "And I thought I told you to stay off it, regardless." Corvo shied away like a nervous horse, though it was easier to see how the limp was more pronounced. "If I hadn't been so tied up curing the plague, I surely would have noticed sooner. …Fractured, definitely."

"But it's fine now. Absolutely fine."

"Except for the loss of mobility and agility. Which I know you won't tolerate."

Corvo laughed nervously, trying to back down the stairs as quickly as possible. For all his fearlessness when it came to protecting others, jumping around on rooftops, or even staring down the Outsider, Piero was perpetually amused at his habit of apparently loathing doctors. Physicians were all well and good for other people to have flitting around them, but the first time Piero had noticed an open wound and offered to stitch it up as Corvo limped back from a mission, the other man had turned as white as a sheet and hastily stuttered that he would be absolutely positively fine, and only relented after several glasses of the best brandy that the Hound Pits had to offer. Everyone deserved their little quirks, he supposed.

"No, no, really, I'm quite fine! Perfectly all right." He continued to back his way down the stairs, even as Piero pursued him - through the guard room, into the plush palace corridor. "Absolutely nothing to worry about. It doesn't even hurt all that much. And besides -" Corvo was cut off from a shout behind him.

Piero stood a little straighter, but Corvo bent down to catch the young Empress in a hug. She was certainly looking more royal these days, trading her plain white outfit for something heavy with embroiery and lace. Corvo still showed her affection without any hesitation, and as she drew away, she looked up at him curiously. "What's going on? Why is Piero looking so angry?" Emily asked, head tilting to one side.

"It's nothing, really -"

"The Lord Protector is refusing to let me help him, Empress Emily, hence my distress."

Corvo sucked in a sharp breath, glaring at Piero, and Piero was suddenly aware that he had just crossed a line by bringing Emily into this. But he attempted to act nonchalant and crossed his arms over his chest, firm in his decision. And at the Empress' questioning look, he continued. "His leg has been broken, you see, and has healed, but at an improper angle. Hence the limp. I'm afraid the only thing to do is to break it again and set it properly, or else suffer much greater, lingering pain in the future."

Corvo only managed to keep staring at him through narrowed eyes for a few more heartbeats before having to turn to Emily and immediately starting to comfort her. That pouting expression that came just before crying was already edging onto her face, after all, given how she worried after him. "But it's all right! It's fine! I'm sure, now that the plague has been eradicated, Master Piero will…" He couldn't help a worried grimace crossing his face. "….fix… it…."

Several hours and half a bottle of brandy later, Corvo limped out of the palace's infirmary. Each teetering step was precariously balanced on a pair of crutches. And his freshly re-broken leg was entombed in a thick cast.

Piero continued to calmly wash his hands of the excess plaster, ignoring Corvo as the other man limped loudly up behind him and said nothing, but simply glared. Corvo could look intimidating if he wanted to, of course. The mask had been hardly necessary on that front. But right now all that Corvo managed was an expression similar to a pet cat who had just been given a bath against its will.

"…Stop looking at me like that. I know full well you aren't going to stab me in my sleep," Piero said haughtily, grabbing a nearby towel and drying his hands with a flourish.

"No, I wouldn't do that," Corvo admitted sulkily. "But I might sneak in and rearrange all your notes."

Piero froze in momentary terror. "You wouldn't…"

"And put them completely out of order. And I'll put some pages in upside-down, even. And make a couple into little paper sculptures and hide them in your rooms."

"…You bastard!"

"And I'll give half of them to Sokolov. After folding them into little birds." Piero threw up his hands in alarmed disgust, stomping out of the room, but Corvo retaliated by limping after him. "A whole bunch of tiny paper birds…"

Even as Piero resolutely attempted to ignore him, Corvo continued his verbal assault all the way down the hall. A remark about stuffing a page of Piero's calculations up Sokolov's nose prompted two figures at the base of a nearby set of stairs to look up.

"…I suppose if you're looking for the Lord Protector, there he is, Mr. Beechworth," the guard said worriedly, glancing up the stairwell.

Samuel chuckled a little to himself, reaching up to adjust his jacket. "So this sort of thing is normal these days, huh? Corvo running around menacing people with paper ducks?"

The guard pursed his lips in thought. "I suppose so, sir. Truth be told, I'm awful glad of it."

"Me too, lad. Me too."