"Did you hear about that man that was killed down by the docks earlier today?" Calendre shook her head, gazing at the shop owner curiously. "Apparently he went completely matto, then he just dropped! They think it was poison," he chattered. The girl had to carefully tie back her victorious grin. Once the man was done crafting the throwing knives, he gently placed them on a cloth in front of her. "Those will cost 50 florins each." She nodded and deposited the money on the counter in front of him before beginning to sheath them. Once all ten were slid into place on her belt, she strolled away to the rendezvous spot to meet Il Lupo. It was up on Santa Maria della Visitazione in the Dorsoduro District, so it wasn't too far. Once she reached the building, she began to flit up the side.

Calendre'd always been a skilled athlete, but she had to admit; her interests definitely lay in combat. She thought it to be beautiful. The way daggers hovered and twirled, the way swordsman seemed to dance together, drew her fascination. That had been the reason she'd chosen her "profession" in the first place. Combat was one of the places where she felt full confidence, even when she didn't entirely know what she was doing. She found herself capable of replicating the enemy's moves, likely from watching her father spar when she was a young child and attempting to mirror his movements with branches. This actually had gotten her father and her in quite a bit of trouble with her mother. Even so, her affection, an emotion she only truly held for three things in the world, only grew from there.

Once she was atop the building, she didn't have to search long before she spotted Il Lupo perched at the peak of the roof across from the tower. She crouched next to the wolf, and he looked at her from the corner of his eyes, then he stood and his arm flashed up to point at something a roof away. Her gaze shifted to where he was indicating and she saw a piece of parchment stuck to the side of the building with a scraggly looking arrow. It had an almost humourous picture of an assassin drawn on it. She pursed her lips to hold back a smirk but immediately understood, and waited for intructions.

"I want you to throw one of those knives and hit that target." She swallowed slightly, never having thrown a knife, but lightly slid one of the knives from her belt. Her brows creased slightly and she held the knife up at her shoulder and gave it her best shot. It shuddered over the gap in between the buildings, then clamoured to the tiling on the other side. It didn't even waver close to the poster. Calendre grimaced.

"Give me one of the knives," he ordered. She complied, and pulled one of the knives from her belt, carefully handing it to her teacher. He gripped her wrist in a quick movement, making her bare her teeth at him, and placed it, with a suprising delicacy, in her hand. "Now. Put you index finger here, and your middle finger here," he gently positioned her hand around the knife until he deemed it perfect. "That should balance it well. You've got the shoulder part right, but when you throw, it's more of a flick. Capisce?" She nodded. "Riprovare." She positioned the knife at her shoulder, and with a breath to steady her aim, she flicked the knife towards the target. This time, the knife was more akin to a sparrow. It flew through the air with steady accuracy, then, to her disappointment, clattered to the roof. Even so, Calendre couldn't help but feel a little prideful. Other than the fact that it landed short of the target, it had flown quite gracefully.

"Hm. Even I didn't catch on like that. I'm beginning to think I've got a little competition." She rolled her eyes at Il Lupo; his only response was a goofy grin. He probably got that stupid smile from not using it enough, she thought. He really only smiled for his own sadistic pleasure, and at her. Never did he really smile playfully, though she couldn't help but grin back at him because of his likeness to a puppy when he did smile. "Throw another one. Remember, the target isn't the roof, it's the poster, mio studente." She glared at him but they were both in teacher-student mode and to shoot attitude back would be inappropriate. .

This time, after she took aim, she snapped her wrist in a forceful move. The knife zipped through the air at a deadly speed and stuck in the wall at a slight angle. About five feet away from the poster. Her lips pulled down in an angry scowl. "Bene. You'll get better with practice." She stopped herself from giving him another agitated glare and slid the next knife from her belt. This time she took a few careful moments to perfectly aim it and when her hand snapped forward, it stuck in the wall, again with a slight angle, on the poster right below the assassin's picture. The slightest of grins ghosted onto her face. She turned to Il Lupo, who looked at her with disgust. "How is it that in five minutes you pick up on something that took me 2 years to perfect?" She shrugged. She'd pondered that herself. Though she had never found any kind of skill with high society, business, or dance as her mother had wished, she'd found herself to be extremely skilled in her father's and Il Lupo's line of work.

Lupo stepped about 7 feet down the other side of the roof, nearly to the edge, and nodded at three points on the peak of the roof: one about 8 steps back, one in the middle, and the last at the far end of the roof. "Start working your way back." He smirked smugly at her, and she just nodded obediently at him. She moved to the second spot, and took aim. The knife struck the poster, silent but deadly. Her eyes flicked to a heated Il Lupo. He always got touchy when people did things better than him, though she was vexed to admit: it didn't happen often. Il Lupo tended to be good at whatever he did, while her skills mostly lay in weaponry.

He nodded at her, with a scowl, to move to the middle of the roof. She did so, and snapped the knife at the poster. This time it hit about a foot away from the poster. She frowned slightly, then pulled another from her belt. This time she washed any pride away, knowing that pride was one of her poisons. She aimed carefully, and then sent it through the air to it's mark. It hit just an inch or two to the side of the parchment. Il Lupo gestured for her to move back and she did so. This was going to be tough. Very, very tough. She swallowed and glanced at the wolf before sliding another knife from her belt and preparing herself for the throw. With slow determination, she raised her hand to her shoulder and, narrowing her eyes, aimed scrupulously. As she started to snap her wrist forward, there was a bark to her left.

"Stronzo!" Her head snapped to the side as she threw the knife. There were two guards flying across the roofs towards them, but she quickly realized that wasn't the biggest problem on their plate.

"Me che cazzo, donnicciol? Figglio di puttana!" Lupo was howling and Calendre sprinted to him with saucers for eyes. The knife had stuck into the muscle directly above his knee and both his leg and his hands were covered in slick red liquid. The wolf was attempting to get himself up on his feet but from the way his face was twisted in torment, it wasn't going to happen any time soon. Not good. Not good at all, considering the guards were about a roof away.

"Hold on," she mouthed at the man. He snarled at her.

"Va' all'inferno," the wolf muttered, but he allowed her to drape his arm around her shoulders. Lupo wasn't exactly leaping at the offered help. She may be his lover and a terribly talented student but she was absolutely insane. However, taking into account that he couldn't even stand without excruciating pain flushing through his system, he was going to have to go along with whatever plan she was cracking. With a quick glance at the approaching guards, both of which were shouting viciously at them, Calendre took a deep breath before wrapping both of her strong arms around his waist and she hurled them both off the roof, sailing down into water below.

He only had half a second to catch a breath of air before they hit the cold water and the sounds of shouting guards were muted. He was shock still for a moment, but his student's desperate grasping and kicking beside him alerted him to the fact that he was clutching onto her and they were both sinking further and further from the surface. He immediately let go of her and, ignoring the throbbing pain that was now slightly subdued because of the cold of the water and shock of being thrown off the building, began kicking up to oxygen. At first it felt as though his kicking was doing nothing, and panic began to root itself, but he soon got to the surface and sucked in precious air. Then, he wheeled in the water to search for his pupil. He felt that panic begin to take hold again when he didn't see her immediately, but she was quickly right beside him, gasping just as he was. The girl jerked her head to the side, gesturing for him to follow, though through the gesture, he noted a look of agonized guilt on her face.

There were arrows whistling towards them and into the water around them, so The Prowler did not hesitate to follow her, both dodging the arrows as best they could.