...Requires A Little Patience And Planning...

La Belle Niche was a French inn popular with upper-class citizens and individuals harboring prosperous connections. Serving a wide range of exotic beers, wines and spirits, it was renowned for its exquisite interior design, polite customer service and pleasing performances executed by some of the most gorgeous courtesans the town had to offer. So great was its service that it was said to have never left a man unsatisfied. Its ambiance was formed of joyous men and women, all sated and at ease, their every delight accompanied by the elated swing of harps and lutes banded at the tavern's corner. To any drunken man, this was a place that would easily pass as Heaven above.

Ezio smiled around at his surroundings, taking in the mahogany expanse and cheery nature the area exuded. A long, brown bar extended out from the entrance, laden with pitchers and goblets. Nobles drunk and sober leaned over the counter-top to flirt with waitresses that catered to their every need. Circular tables, simple but elegant in design, were distributed evenly about the large rectangular room, the stifled screech of stools and chairs evident amongst the crowd whilst attendants maneuvered themselves about them. It was a busy evening; several groups of courtesans drifted from end to end of the room, the hanging chandeliers shedding a brilliant glow upon their fair skin and glinting against the fans they batted about temptingly. A few slender women of their kind had taken to the wooden beams that supported the rafters in the middle of the room, the cylindrical shafts allowing a slight grip as they swung about them in an alluring manner, capturing the attention of many men present on that golden, balmy night.

Ezio had been to La Belle Niche once before, except it was, at that time, the grounds of an assassination declared essential to the Creed. Whilst perched upon the overhead rafters, the Italian had quietly decided that he would visit this pretty inn sometime soon for a drink. That thought was fast before he leapt and spilt the blood of a treacherous man, horrifying many innocent people before him. Needless to say, the tavern had recovered from whatever shock they had gone through three weeks ago. One could safely presume that they were now oblivious to the assassin's presence, if not entirely welcoming to him.

The Italian hailed a few familiar faces as he strode by, a jolly wave of his hand devoting to them all the attention they required. To count the number of acquaintances he had sighted was near impossible; it seemed as if every second mug thrusted into the air was a toast to his arrival. This was a place where Ezio knew he fitted in, where he was noticed and revered… It was a beautiful place where the Italian assassino was surrounded by his brothers, by civilians sympathetic to their order, by utterly gorgeous women who…

Well…

Lifting his hood from his head, Ezio did not fail at catching the sweet gazes of several young ladies in close proximity. He was used to the attention, posing smug grins and light-hearted caresses as a few daring women brushed purposefully against him. Such was a game the Italian charmer liked to play, and as serious as his duties were, he would never tire of flirting. An attractive waitress had even been so certain of herself to stop and give the man her full attention, bringing a shot of some exotic beverage to his lips and coaxing him to drink. He chuckled and consented, enjoying himself a little too much (somehow the encounter had ascended to Ezio doing the same, assisting the giggling waitress to a drink), before remembering just who else he had brought along. Altair took an unfortunate first preference over these entrancing ladies right now, and he figured he would have to find the shifty Arabian before he disappeared- something the taller assassin would not put past him.

Distracted gaze skimming the mass for said person, Ezio soon excused himself with a polite kiss to the hand. The waitress had pouted in disappointment, rather reluctant to leave such a delightful customer, but she managed a curtsey and disappeared into the colorful crowd to serve others. He began his stride again, albeit a little more carefully now as he strafed between the web of tables to get to the back wall of the tavern. An eyebrow lifting in slight exasperation, the Italian apologized to those groups he had interrupted, releasing his breath when he managed to get to the other side intact.

Looking towards the little shadow the room possessed, Ezio sidled quietly up to Altair, whom stood stationed to the right of a stack of barrels. The Syrian assassin had his eyes hidden, arms folded and back planted against the brick wall, refraining from meeting the other's gaze as he peered darkly around the expansive room. As to why Altair preferred to stick to the shadows so much, the Florentine man did not know. It was a habit he would have to discard though, for the duration of tonight at least.

Huffing lightly, Ezio joined the Arabian at his side, mimicking his posture although he did not intend to stay like this for long. He turned his stare towards the other, the straight-forward question he posed being one of extended patience.

"Is there something troubling you, Altair? Why is it that you have taken to the back of the room so swiftly?"

He watched Altair shift in terse response, a rigid turn of the Arabian's head betraying his wary gaze as it followed a passing group. He didn't seem hesitant to talk, just very agitated in doing so. "…The tavern is too crowded as of now," Altair's answer was of a soft, measured tone, as if he was cautious of people listening in. "And I do not feel comfortable being amidst the crowd. It is much calmer here."

Ezio grimaced, but he felt sympathy for what was a blatant anxiety nonetheless. It was to be expected of Altair, in a way. He could not complain.

"Si, but I did not bring you here to loiter in the shadows, amico mio. You'll not loosen up this way. The people will not bother you, so do not let them distract you of your comfort. Come, and I'll find us a table." Lifting his head and uncrossing his arms, Ezio scanned the room, succinctly pinpointing a few unoccupied areas. It seemed that all the outlying tables had been claimed though, and it was with a thoughtful and coy tone that he considered this out loud.

"Ah, all the tables at the perimeters have been taken already. Although, I do see a few close to the centre of the room that are quite readily available..."

Altair flashed the Italian an irritated look, sharply rejecting his underlying suggestion. "I refuse to take to the centre, Ezio."

But his refusal was one that Ezio, in turn, refused to take. He sent it right back at the Syrian with a roll of his eyes.

"Don't be so finicky. Being in the midst of it isn't so bad, I'll show you." Before the other man could protest, the Italian grabbed hold of his arm and dragged him away from the cover of shadow, not even releasing him when they made to maneuver about the crowded tables again. Some people stopped drinking or conversing to watch the slight struggle taking place; Altair pulled back and hissed a constant stream of foreign profanities at the other but Ezio took little note of him, his grip firm and pace steady as he slipped in between the tables. The Arabian assassin silenced only when he realized so many were watching, but he was radiating frustration in dangerous waves and Ezio knew he had to be careful now. His arm was dropped when they finally happened upon a table Ezio was satisfied with; it was closest to the middle of the room and posed a nice view of a pole-dancing courtesan whom currently was putting on quite the show. Ezio sat himself gladly, but Altair was heavily reluctant to.

The Arabian scowled, lightly kicking the closest table leg with the toe of his boot. "I dislike being here. This seating arrangement is far too close to the centre of the crowd, and hence far too close to these… people…" He eyed the dancing courtesan with slight distaste.

"Eh, you'll get used to it soon enough. Just sit." The Florentine man raised an arm, bidding the attention of a passing waitress who quickly sidled over.

Altair just stared at his seat, unwilling. He glanced down at Ezio, and eventually Ezio met his gaze with boredom, an eyebrow cocked.

"You can sit in my lap, if you'd so prefer."

His scowl deepened, but Altair finally sat in the chair.

"What can I get for you, good sirs?" The waitress came before their table, flashing a smile at either assassin. Altair did not acknowledge the gesticulation, and Ezio returned it more charmingly than he likely should have. "We have an excellent range available tonight. Have you a preference?"

Ezio's grin widened, a new interest piquing immediately. "Si, I do. Brunette, dark-eyed, fair-skinned and with a slightly plump-"

Under the table, Altair effectively kicked Ezio in the shin, interrupting and overruling his shameless flirting.

"Two small beers shall do."

The waitress nodded, a little distracted by Ezio's advances and pained expression, but turned to Altair to consult him on the order. "Just two small beers then? You don't wish for something stronger than that? We'll provide for you a crisp and satisfying beverage regardless, but we've many more delightful infusions to choose from…"

And that was when Ezio had a brilliant idea.

Having recovered, the Italian cut in quickly. "We appreciate your consideration, but my friend does not wish to get drunk tonight. As long as your serving sizes are respectable, they'll do. But, as for payment…?"

"Unless you'd like to put it on a tab, one of the girls will return for the money upon your leave. There's no need for you to worry about that right now."

"Ah, but there is, bella. Who said I was talking about money?"

Altair kicked out at him again, but Ezio was expecting it this time, lifting his legs out of the way. The Arabian stubbed himself on the opposite chair, and if it weren't for the waitress standing there, he would've damned Ezio with a life of infertility for his pain.

Although unaware of what was going on under the table, the attendant blushed and cleared her throat, eyeing Ezio carefully as she addressed him. "We… We've many courtesans here today, sir. Why not allow them to devote to you the affection you so crave?"
"Mm, I am aware of their presence, but what I'd like to devote to you is a tip for your good work, not a desire in need of satiating. Give me a short moment and come here, tesoro mio." And he held out a hand, a hand he knew was impossibly hard to resist in taking. Altair glared at him, very unwilling to witness whatever 'tip' the Italian so intended to devote, but he received a pleading glance and by that time the waitress seemed to have made up her mind.

She smoothed down her skirt and glanced around nervously before sidling up to Ezio, slender hand silently outstretched. He pushed out from the table, giving her a tender smile as he took it and sat her down on his lap. Her cheeks flared crimson when he lifted her hand and kissed her upon the knuckles, then leaned forward to hold his mouth just below her ear, fast against her neck. He spoke quietly, huskily, and she shuddered.

"I thank you for your excellent service, but is it possible for you to do me one more favour, love?"

Her grip on his shoulder tightened in response to his whispery breath, lost in the cacophony of the surrounding tavern, but the woman managed a decent reply.

"Well… What will it be, sir?"

She felt him smirk against her skin, distracting her with frequent but gentle nips. "If you could do so, I'd like for you to change the order my friend made… Can you have it so that his drink is something a little harder? Make it a large quantity, but… Something not too overly suspicious. I want to get him drunk and swiftly, capisce? I'll still have a small beer but make his something hard and fast. Can you do that?"

"I… I might get in trouble if I'm caught swapping drinks, but…" Her lashes fluttered in doubt as his hand moved from hers, only to return in pressing a generous few gold coins into her palm. He kissed her ear, awaiting her judgment, and she replied exactly as he wished. "Yes, I will try."

"Mm, bene. Do not let anyone know. This is our little secret, okay? Be confident and you'll do fine," He drew back then and offered her a reassuring smile, and a sweet peck on the mouth. She felt her face burn but was able to remove herself from him, turning around again to face the two with a lump in her throat. He smiled warmly up at her. "Thank you, amore mio."

"No," She murmured, remembering to play along even if in a daze. "Thank you." And she left promptly.

Inwardly, Ezio sighed with some relief. He had taken advantage of that situation quite well, gained the affections of a lovely woman and put a spur-of-the-moment plan into action. As to whether it would work or not…

He looked over at Altair, who appeared quite relieved that the waitress was gone. His expression quickly steeled when it met with the other assassin's, and his voice was no less hostile.

"I thought you wished for me to come because you didn't desire the companionship of a woman. You really don't have any self-control, do you, novice?"

Ezio winced at the insult, half-expecting the reprimanding but hasty in defending himself. "There's nothing wrong with a little entertainment… Besides, these hard-working women deserve some sweetening in their lives, no?" His gaze settled on the dancing courtesan, much entertained, although his primal attention remained with Altair.

"Not in the form of your ministrations they don't."

The Florentine assassin snorted, folding his arms as he allowed his gaze to venture over the thighs of the woman strutting before him. "Do you have a better way of showing them your appreciation then?"

"Yes. By letting them do their job, and not interfering in their work for any such purpose as yours. You know better, Ezio. Also, I have half a mind in giving you a good kick up the ass. My foot is considerably sore now…"

"As is my shin."

"You alone deserve that pain. You speak vulgar things sometimes. That said, it repulses me to think of what you would have been whispering into that waitress' ear."

Ezio glanced over at the other in a moment of nervousness, to find Altair entirely composed if not with a hint of antipathy written across his face, then looked towards the bar and its jovial crowd as he muttered his response. "Sweet nothings, is all. No woman I've met doesn't appreciate them. What does it matter anyway? Even if you think my manner of dealing is so wrong, why interfere? Does it bother you?"

"Generally, no. I could not care any less in how you treat your women. But if I was brought here to watch you play around with them, as I have so far seen, then it would irritate me."

"Well… Then it is my deepest regret that I had acted with such misconduct. Had I ruined your evening in doing so?"

Altair chose to ignore the sardonic approach, and answered him for his words' worth. "You have assisted in its ruining, but it's not entirely your workings alone, no."

He cast upon Altair a stare of incredulity, not expecting such a frank response. "You mean to tell me that there are other things you are so far displeased with?"

And he looked upon Ezio with coldness in his stony gaze, golden eyes glittering without feeling. The Italian felt the taste in his throat become sour.

"I would be lying if I was to say that I am having the time of my life."

"Oh, I am sure... Tell me then, whatever else so offends you?"

"The atmosphere of this place, mainly. In an area like this, so open to eyes of others, it is hard to relax," Ezio couldn't help but clench his jaw at this fastidious complaint, for what in Hell did Altair expect from him? A tavern reserved for himself alone? When he didn't respond, quietly seething in anger, the Arabian spoke again. "There is also question as to why I remain here. What purpose does my presence bring you anyhow?"

There was bitterness in Ezio's tone, prominent no matter how hard he tried to suppress it.

"…You are a friend of mine. I wished to share a good experience with you, but by your accord it seems that my good efforts are hardly worth it."

Silence settled between them, breached only by the surrounding chatter and clinking of glasses. With an acrimony brought out in Ezio that rivaled Altair's own, it was clear that things would not be settled with anymore hot-headed banter. When Altair spoke, it was with slight apprehension.

"That… is not true."

A roll of the eyes. "As is nothing else in our creed."

Altair ignored the cynical comment, his reasoning impervious. "Your efforts, Ezio… They are worth the experience. I am here, am I not? I came because you asked, begged it of me. For no other reason would I be sitting in this chair right now except that it would satisfy you, and so I consented, and you worked well to earn it. I could have completed those assassinations without your assistance and gladly gone home, but the agreement we proposed seemed fair at the time. Still I came because you wanted me to, and I might not be enjoying myself, but…"

At that, the other assassin couldn't help but intervene.

"But would it be so hard to enjoy yourself? To find one reason this afternoon that would compel you to sit here, instead of seemingly being forced to? Mio Dio, Altair, I am happy you came but it does not please me that you find the tavern I have chosen horrid. I want to enjoy myself, but I also want for you to enjoy yourself too. Is that so much to ask?"

Ezio ended on a desperate note, more pleading than angry or irritated. His companion had fallen quiet under the concerns that he was made subject of, and from the manner he briskly turned his face away, Ezio wondered if his words meant anything to him at all. His ignorance almost hurt and it didn't help that Ezio started to doubt himself on bringing Altair along either… He should have known this would happen but he was far too damned optimistic at the time to see it. If the guy really was so opposed to his being here, then by Hell, he should just let him go already, for this atmosphere was one he could no longer put up with and he really didn't want to have the rest of his night ruined by this gratuitous son of a-

"Although I… well…"

Ezio paused his negative train of thought when Altair began talking, only to trail off. He glanced over at the Arabian, whom uncrossed his arms and began to scratch idly at the wooden table. His eyes were hidden, but his lower features were softer as he spoke. The change in attitude almost puzzled Ezio.

"Never mind that… I meant to say that this tavern is rather… scenic. It has interesting style, and is remarkably clean too, perhaps even a little ahead of its time. I can see reason as to why it is popular amongst our people. You made a good choice."

The other man quieted then and Ezio slowly realized in the waiting silence and with bated breath that he had just been praised by Altair. He had been quite literally offered a compliment, and he was rather confused as to why he would say such a thing now, out of the blue, just as they had an argument about this very tavern until…

Until he noticed how discomfited Altair's posture appeared, how fidgety he was from Ezio's lack of response. That was no mere compliment, but rather, was this his form of an apology? Ezio knew the other assassin was nothing much of a social creature, preferring solitude and being unfamiliar with compassion and the manners of human relationship.

Ezio couldn't help but smile.

"I'm glad you think so."