As much as Leonardo prided himself on primarily being a painter, he was a master with anatomy. His fingers were strategically placed on Ezio's skin, nimble, careful only to touch where needed. Any deviation of the sorts earned him a groan from the Assassin, but Ezio tried to suppress it; Leonardo could not blame him for making such sounds.
It was only natural when in a state of such pain.
"Perhaps if you were not so arrogant and did not pull it out so soon…" Leonardo drifted off, looking down at the splintered fragments of the arrow. Ezio's leg jerks away from him as the needle dives beneath the skin and resurfaces with red-stained thread in tow. "You should have come to me first. I could at least have made certain that it had come out cleanly."
Ezio says nothing, only lets out a soundless tune pass his lips even though the tautness of his facial expressions betrays the pain he tries to mask. "Ah, but you did not come to me for a lecture, only for help." There is a tone in Leonardo's voice that is akin to regret, knowing he cannot take back the words now swimming in Ezio's consciousness. "I am certain you had a good reason to remove that arrow so hastily…" Leonardo, who only lives Ezio's life through vivid retellings and visits few and far in-between, could never imagine the adrenaline rush of running from Florentine guards. He only dreams of taking flight through detailed sketchings while Ezio has experienced something akin on rooftops and from heights he boasted as high as the Giotto of the Florence Cathedral.
Leonardo envies Ezio, even as the needle delves into the Assassin's skin again and beads of blood surface, even as the remains of what was an arrow lay on the bench beside him and splinters still lie dormant in his thigh and threaten infection. It is a pain Leonardo only wished to bear more than his sore knees as he kneels before his friend and slowly closes the wound. "I do not mean to trouble you, Leonardo."
"You do not trouble me, Ezio. You only cause me worry." Leonardo ties off his stitches and breaks the remaining thread with a satisfied smile. He throughly soaks a cloth in a nearby basin of lukewarm water and presses it against Ezio's thigh to soak up the remaining blood and stave off infection, almost like a signature, as if the fastening of Ezio's flesh were another of his masterpieces. "But it is an inconvenience I can manage."
The cloth, now saturated red with Ezio's blood, is dropped into the basin and a whiter, dryer cloth pressed to the wound. Leonardo works quickly to wrap the wound in bandages, and then stands, dusting his hands off and offering Ezio a reassuring smile. Ezio returns it, bouncing his leg on the heel of his foot to test the strength of the stitches. "Knowing my wounds are in your hands, maestro, brings me much comfort."
"Now, let's see to that armor, shall we?"