Adair spent her night at the ACE Bar and Lounge with Thatcher and Edward, going over her eventful day. She found it soothing, and it seemed to create a sort of comfort for her.
"I still don't understand why Arno tried to kill me," Adair said, and Edward laughed.
"You see, we deceased are having a contest to prove whose descendant is the strongest. He's trying to make a point," he teased.
"He wouldn't be winning that contest if I were dead," Adair chuckled.
"And speaking of descendants," Thatcher refilled his glass, "What about the new recruits?"
"Who knows. We only ever see them, like, once every six months." Adair poured her fill too.
"Been three years and no one ever got added to the teams."
"I detect a conspiracy," Adair grinned.
"I heard there was a slight interference during practice," Edward encouraged. "Involving Bellona and you."
"I shouldn't have even stepped in. It wasn't really my problem."
"You did, though."
Adair took a sip of her drink, then responded. "She deserves some form of reprimanding."
"Leave it to Altaïr and Ezio, Addy." Thatcher said. "Don't get too involved."
Edward, who was in the middle of preparing himself a drink, went still. His eyes stared past Adair, and with extremely quick reflexes, he pulled a gun from under the bar and pointed it over Adair's shoulder.
"It's just me!" Webster cried from the shadows. "It's just me."
"Webster? What is it?" Adair turned and addressed him.
"Thought I'd be welcome to have a few drinks," he grinned slightly, approaching.
"Yeah, you are..." Adair trailed off, watching him as he pulled a barstool up and take a seat. "You can put the gun down now, Eddy," Adair murmured, and Edward lowered the weapon.
"Altaïr wanted me to come and get you," Webster told Adair as he helped himself to a beer. "Not sure why. Probably because of your little fiasco."
Adair snickered, but stopped when she saw that Webster wasn't laughing. In fact, his eyes were cold and steely, like he had been offended.
"What's up?" Adair asked him.
"What do you mean?"
"I imagine if you arrive here at the bar late at night in a angered mood, something must have happened."
"I'm fine." Webster scowled. "Just a little frustrated."
"Yeah, Altaïr can be a prick sometimes, can't he?" Thatcher quipped, then took a long drink.
"Excuse me?" Webster snarled.
Thatcher set his glass down. "I'm just saying, he must be hard on you, with you being his descendant...like how Ezio is hard on me, and how Arno is on Adair. Because, y'know, he's, like, the Master of the Master Assassins, with the most knowledge and stuff, so he's tough on you...and I thought that you just came from Altaïr's office, since you told Adair to go see him..." he finished weakly.
Webster scowled again, glancing away. "Look, a deadline just wasn't met, okay?"
The group then became quiet, hardly moving aside from Edward cleaning drinking glasses.
"I'll go and see him now, then," Adair said, excusing herself from the bar.