Chapter 25: Playing Games

This would never feel natural.

Kira stepped through the door of the Green Dragon Tavern. The warmth of the place struck her immediately, lively and welcoming- a far stretch from Boston's streets, which darkness had claimed within the last hour. The evening was still deceptively young; the days were so maddeningly short this time of year.

In the two weeks that had passed since the events at Boston Harbour, Kira had been interminably busy. The city was restless; almost every day the Assassin was called upon to aid in various conflicts, from fending off increasingly demanding tax collectors, to rescuing those the Redcoats saw fit to execute in the streets. Connor had assisted her where he could, but his attentions were divided- worn thin between his training, his commitments to his people, and his overseeing of the homestead. Simply put, he was needed elsewhere- leaving Kira to fend for the people of Boston.

It was yet to be seen whether her present engagement would be a welcome respite from all that she had endured, or an experience more taxing than all of it combined.

Kira made her way over to the stairs, giving the tavern a customary inspection as she passed through. Everything seemed in order- at least, the sort of unruly order one would expect from such a place- and satisfied, the woman began her ascent to the next floor. It was a mystery as to who exactly would be waiting at the top, and one she didn't particularly enjoy.

Climbing the last steps, she found a small party huddled around the large table in the centre of the space. There were four of them: William, Benjamin, Thomas, and- the woman resisted the urge to groan- Charles. Not one of them registered her arrival. They were distracted: all studying a checkers' board that sat between them. William and Benjamin were playing, whilst the other pair watched fixedly on, leading Kira to suspect they had stakes in whatever was occurring. They didn't seem to be expecting her.

She took a breath, assumed her usual confidence, and approached them.

"Well…" Charles began, acknowledging her first, and in a tone that had her already wanting to strike him, "if it isn't Haytham's little pet."

Kira tensed, though in a remarkable display of self-control, didn't lunge at him. "What an odd coincidence," she returned, feigning amicability, "I was about to say the same to you."

Somewhere across the table, Thomas spluttered and laughed into his drink.

"I am not the one betraying the trust of my order, Assassin," Charles managed to counter, failing miserably to disguise his growing frustration.

"Nor am I," Kira remarked pleasantly, slipping up onto the table a small way from where the game was taking place, and not missing the way Charles' jaw clenched at her choice of seat. "This is, after all, an elaborate scheme to do away with you all."

With a screech of protesting wood, Charles stood suddenly from his chair- the action almost toppling the helpless object. "You…" he spat, "conniving, insolent little-"

"Peace, Charles," William spared everyone the insult's conclusion. He had reached out a hand to steady his colleague, having looked up from his game. "Miss Lawrence is merely trying to provoke you. I would ask of you, patience, and of her-" he turned to her now- "to think better of making jests in such poor taste."

As Charles slumped begrudgingly back into his seat, Kira shrugged, content- though not particularly motivated to change her ways. "Is Haytham around?" she asked once everyone had resettled, idly examining her hidden blade as though she were terribly bored. The question was issued to no one in particular.

"He was called away on business," William replied shortly, having returned to his match. "He will be back within the hour."

Kira huffed, dropping her wrist into her lap. "Wonderful."

An hour seemed an obscene amount of time in the face of her current company. As she pondered the survivability of this, she preoccupied herself with watching the game, where William was quickly chasing a potential victory. There was an opportunity- she realised, as her eyes flicked across the face of each Templar present- that she could similarly seize upon.

Weeks before, Haytham had warned her he intended to divulge word of their arrangement to his companions. He would not reveal the extent of it, naturally, nor the significant amount of information and resources she had been granted- but enough to satisfy any suspicions, and to allow him the freedom to operate without such a crippling need for discretion. This hadn't instilled Kira with any confidence at the time, but now? She was starting to see how it could work to her advantage.

Whatever conclusion her venture with Haytham was fated for, it couldn't hurt to have the favour of one or two of his loyal subjects.

On the checkers' board, Benjamin's final piece was neatly dispatched, and various amounts of coin exchanged hands. "Would you mind terribly if I join you?" Kira spoke suddenly.

"Yes," Charles growled.

"No!" Thomas grinned.

With a sigh, Kira regarded the other two Templars: a verifiable middle ground. Benjamin and William exchanged a glance before the latter addressed her with a soft nod. "By all means."

She smiled and moved to draw up a chair with them, trying to ignore the burning sensation of the looks she received as she seated herself.

"What would your mentor say," Charles snarled, "if he could see you now?"

"Something scathing, I imagine," she murmured without an ounce of concern. The board had been pushed towards her slightly, and she'd set about straightening the few counters that had moved out of place. "I fail to see why, though. Robbing a Templar of his funds?" she finally looked back at the man. "That is work for an Assassin if I have ever heard it."

Charles fumed at the comment, though Thomas was thoroughly enthralled by it. "I can see why 'aytham likes you so much," he smirked, inviting himself into the conversation. "Weren't really fair of 'im, was it? Keepin' you to 'imself all this time."

Kira graced him with a grateful but knowing smile. "You shall have to take that up with him."

"Believe me, I will."

That was something Kira rather fancied seeing, on the off chance that it actually happened. For now, however, she settled for challenging the man to a game. "Care to try your luck?" She rotated the opposing side of the board towards him. Thomas' face lit up, and he nodded eagerly.

"My money's on the Assassin," came Benjamin's voice.

"And mine," added Charles levelly, catching her by surprise.

Thomas glanced around the table like a man betrayed. With a gentle laugh, Kira reached out to make her first move, sliding an ebony counter decisively to an adjacent square. One hour, she reminded herself.

Yes- she could manage that.

Haytham bristled as he stepped into the familiar, almost tangible comfort of the Green Dragon. Severing the grip of the cold evening he had slipped from, he closed the door behind him, savouring a much-needed moment of peace before he threw himself into the next item on his agenda. A moment was all he could afford, and with a sigh, he set a purposeful stride towards the stairs.

He used his spare time to consider his plan; iteration after iteration played through his head as he weaved across the crowded floor of the inn. As he reached and climbed the first few stairs, he assessed his potential strategies, testing the strength of each against whatever risks and obstacles he could fathom. He was good at what he did- more than good- but he wasn't perfect. This, unfortunately, was one occasion where he would need to be.

His thoughts faded into obscurity as his associates' laughter rang out from above him. He frowned, incensed by their apparent delight, which mocked the very fact he had spent the entire afternoon running from one commitment to the next. He wasn't sure what gave them the right to enjoy themselves whilst he had been-

He stopped at the top of the stairs. Smiled to himself. Now that wasn't something he ever thought he'd see.

Tucking his hands behind his back, he meandered thoughtfully over to his companions, his expression fading into a more neutral look of puzzlement. "Just what exactly am I looking at here?" he asked as he came to a stop by the side of the table.

Kira and Charles were sat across from one another- the former leant forwards in quiet study of a game of checkers, and the latter watching her with an intense glower. Neither one acknowledged his question.

"Your Assassin has been bleeding us all dry," spoke Benjamin in a tone that tried to be bitter, but fell short in its attempt.

Haytham raised an eyebrow, resting a hand on the table and leaning over to inspect the game. "Oh?" he said. "Only figuratively, I hope."

Kira moved a counter, capturing one of Charles', before reclining in satisfaction. "For now," she teased, regarding Haytham at last with a smile, "or until my luck runs out, at least."

"Then let us pray that it doesn't," the Grand Master nodded in greeting, amusement lifting the corners of his lips.

Charles captured one of Kira's pieces, drawing everyone's attention back to the game. As Kira assessed the new information, so too did Haytham- his mind working to calculate which player held the better position. He realised the Assassin had already secured a victory, so long as she didn't do anything exceptionally foolish in the next few moves. Charles hadn't seen it yet; that was clear from the fact that the table and board remained unturned.

Looking over his companions, Haytham wasn't sure anyone had seen it, except maybe- yes, William. The man glanced at him now, conveying a simple message through a subtle shake of his head: This isn't going to end well.

Haytham grimaced slightly in agreement.

A further second saw their predictions dashed like a wave across the bow of a ship. With perhaps the strongest conviction she had displayed so far, Kira made a move: sudden, terrible, and… exceptionally foolish. Haytham frowned, too surprised to invest any effort in concealing his bewilderment. Across the table, William matched the expression.

None of this went unnoticed by Kira, who had to stifle her inclination to laugh. Whilst Charles processed her action, she folded her arms, watching Haytham and relishing how she could read the inner workings of his mind. He was lost- fixated on the checkers' board, as though he couldn't quite believe what he had seen. He found his answers eventually, though not within the stilted battlefield of the game, but in the blatant look of apathy he received when locking eyes with Kira herself.

She liked that she was able to catch him off guard, every once in a while.

Within another minute, Charles was able to seize on her mistake. Though the man tried to emulate his leader's talent for nonchalance, this cascaded- piece by piece- with every step he made towards victory. When he finally captured Kira's last counter, it was with unadulterated glee. No one else dared react to the move.

The silence only broke when Kira chuckled with disbelief. "Well played," she declared, extending a hand as she surveyed her fallen forces: a dignity she could only maintain in disingenuous defeat. She watched Charles tense with indecision. Tentatively, as though he were conceding something he wasn't quite prepared to, he shook her hand.

The tension around the table dissipated, leaving the other Templars to trade coins, all plainly dissatisfied with the result of the game. Kira reached into her pocket, withdrawing the amount of her own wager and sliding it towards Charles; it was only a fraction of what she'd accumulated in the last hour.

"Miss Lawrence?"

She turned towards the sound of Haytham's voice.

"A word?" he gestured to his room with a sideways tilt of his head.

She nodded, standing with a final glance about the table. The others had fallen into idle conversation, oblivious of her once more, and she breathed a little easier knowing she had escaped their scrutiny.

Meanwhile, Haytham had already begun to move. He paused as he passed Charles, leaning in to address his friend. "We will be leaving shortly," he instructed, "make sure you are ready." Charles bowed his head in compliance, and satisfied, Haytham resumed his course.

Kira followed on, perturbed, though intent on disguising this until she had crossed into the relative safety of the other room. There was an undeniable relief that came from passing through the door, and she turned to close it behind her, keen to cement the feeling. Looking up as she did so, she was met with Charles' venomous gaze. He was glaring at her, dark and unwavering.

She grinned, gave him a conspiratorial wink, and pushed the door shut.

"So," Haytham began distractedly, already at a desk and stooping to filter through what papers littered its surface, "it would seem my men are quite taken with you."

Kira smirked as she flopped into the chair opposite him. "You can hardly blame them, you know- it was only a matter of time."

The man hummed in agreement, disappearing from her view as he crouched to scour the desk's lower drawers. "What exactly are you hoping to achieve, might I ask?"

"Dissension within your ranks," she answered, straightening slightly to try and see what he was up to, "outright mutiny- that sort of thing." Haytham peered briefly over the desk, shooting her a look of admonishment, and she smiled pleasantly in return. He was gone in another moment. "My acute powers of intuition tell me you have somewhere else to be," she said, curiosity drawing her over from her seat.

"I do," he groused, growing frustrated as he rifled through another drawer, before finally unearthing the document he required. He stood with it, slowly, and looked back at her. "I am sorry, truly. I would have sent word to you, but," he paused for a moment, almost regretfully. "Forgive me- it must have slipped my mind."

Kira blinked back at him. "Mr Kenway," she started, voice surprisingly rich with concern, "are you… truly admitting that you-" she took in a particularly dramatic breath- "are as prone to error as the rest of us?"

Haytham had made the mistake of investing in the suspense she had created, and his face dropped as she descended into laughter. He sighed as he spread the document across his desk. "I have no time for your impudence," he muttered darkly as he leant over to inspect it.

"I know, I know," she recovered, "and I am sorry. For what it's worth, though," her words stalled as her eyes fell to the document: a map. It was several sketches- each annotated- depicting the layout of a large house. There was information concerning guard postings, schedules, and- Kira forced herself to look up from it. "I do appreciate what you said," she insisted, lowering herself into Haytham's eyeline, "but there is no need to apologise, really- I understand."

He regarded her sceptically. "That is very generous of you."

"What can I say? I'm an exceptionally generous person."

The claim was made with Kira's usual dose of sarcasm, though Haytham suspected it was true.

"Anyway," the woman continued, "what is so important as to tear you away from our esteemed research?"

"Ah," Haytham sighed, in a way that suggested there was much to follow. He hesitated, considering the risk he'd be taking in divulging this all to a person who had devoted their life to his downfall. He had to remind himself- more often than he liked- of how much the deceivingly innocuous woman now stood across from him had to gain from his losses.

"Well?" Kira urged.

He yielded. "There is a British quartermaster we have been watching for some time. He oversees the storage of a vast quantity of the army's supplies. With the information he possesses, we could-"

"Thrive, prosper, and ultimately conquer the world?"

"We could survive. For the time being, at least. We cannot predict the course of what the revolutionaries are stirring- it would be fortuitous to have a reliable source of-"

"Oh, no…" Kira interjected once more, "you're planning to torture all this out of him, aren't you?"

Haytham narrowed his eyes. "Tempting- but no, I am opting for something more… subtle. The man keeps a ledger detailing all his operations in his home," he tapped the illustrations laid out before him. "The building is meticulously well-guarded, though tonight I am informed he is hosting a dinner party. There are other officers there, men of importance-"

"The guards will be preoccupied with their protection," Kira exclaimed, excited to have drawn the conclusion.

"Exactly," Haytham smiled, appreciative that she had drawn it too.

The Assassin permitted herself to examine the map once more. The paper had started to curl at one of its edges, and she smoothed it over with her palm, leaning gently against the desk as she did so. It was a liability of her profession: that she began to commit the sketches to memory and walk the sprawling expanse of rooms and halls within her mind.

Haytham watched her: the way her eyes darted keenly across the page, and the way she reached out a hand, ever so delicately, to trace a pale finger between the images scrawled upon it. The movement was so muted and soft, he wondered if she were even conscious of making it.

"You could come with me," he spoke, before immediately scolding himself, because never- in any of the iterations he had devised- had that ever been part of the plan.

Kira looked up at him, face creasing with confusion. She tilted her head with the quiet sort of suspicion one might display when being handed a good they believe to be faulty. "Would you… like me to?"

Haytham didn't think he did, but found his inner argument lacking any degree of conviction. "Yes," he admitted, after some thought, and more to himself than to her.

It was becoming increasingly difficult for Kira to believe he was joking. Or lying. Or doing anything other than simply asking her a question. Her eyes fell back to the map, enjoying the promise of a challenge it illustrated, and supposing the challenge was what made the proposition so alluring.

"Alright," she finally answered, having sufficiently fooled herself.

"I thought you were supposed to be good at this."

Kira watched, amused, as Haytham fiddled with a lock he had been failing to pick for the last minute. He had stilled at her comment- had taken a deep breath as though to restrain himself- and since returned to his task.

"And I thought," he mused, as he readjusted the lockpick, "that you might actually make yourself useful on this venture, and not- say- spend the entire time trying to provoke me. Believe me, my dear-" he tested the lock, and it didn't give- "we are both disappointed."

Kira chuckled, looking along the lengths of the wall the pair were situated by, and making sure no guards had turned the corner of either end. There was no one, so far as she could see in the limited light of the moon and the leaking orange windows of nearby buildings. Her eyes moved to inspect the wall itself; they couldn't scale it for risk of being spotted by someone on the other side. With an agitation she dare not voice, she looked down to where Haytham was trying the door another time.

There was a revealing click. The man stood, surprisingly impassive about his success, and pushed the door slightly ajar. "After you," he gestured with a sarcastic gentility.

Rolling her eyes, Kira stepped through, keeping as close to the wall as she could. She listened attentively as she glanced about her surroundings: the quartermaster's gardens. It was adorned with conveniently lush hedges and shrubs- many of which could provide suitable cover. The whole place was remarkably vibrant, despite the distinct lack of flowers that had retired for the winter.

"This way." Haytham had joined her, and he signalled for her to follow as he stole towards the house. She did- keeping low and alert, weaving to where the shadow and foliage lay thickest, and only pausing when struck by a rhythmic sound of crunching gravel nearby. Haytham too had stopped, raising a hand in warning, and she swallowed the need to berate him for it.

Up ahead, patrolling the exterior of the house, was a guard. His figure was dark, the dim lantern he held accentuating the sharp lines of his weapon and his uniform: making him appear as some otherworldly apparition. He was walking away from them, further, further… until suddenly he wasn't. He turned briskly- his features harsh in the yellow light- before setting the lantern on the ground and straightening with a groan. He leant back against the house, resting his rifle at his side.

Haytham huffed with frustration. "That," he muttered to Kira, pointing to a balcony that sat a stretch above the guard's head, "is our way in."

She squinted at it. "Seems a little impractical."

He nodded. "Stay here. I will take care of it."

Kira couldn't miss the all-too-familiar sound of his hidden blade engaging. "No," she exclaimed in a whisper, reaching out an arm to stop him. "I'll do it."

She made sure to move away quickly. She crept to the edge of where the garden's cover extended- close enough to the guard that she could hear the shallow hiss of his breath as he warmed his hands. She glanced about herself, spotting several stones, and reached for one- the cold, evening dew of the grass chilling her as it grazed her fingers. She tossed the stone at one of the hedges close by.

The guard tensed as the harsh rustle of crisp leaves broke the evening silence. He reached for his weapon, taking a few tentative steps towards the sound, and unaware that Kira was already closing the distance to him. Another moment and she was at his back: springing, reaching over his shoulders to grasp his rifle, and pulling the weapon sharply against his throat. He struggled, his cry of alarm strangled as he clawed urgently to break her hold on him- fear tainting his efforts with futility. As his consciousness inescapably faded, Kira lowered him to the floor.

It was a strange feeling: knowing she had saved his life, and that he'd never know just how close he'd come to losing it.

"You had better hope he doesn't come to," warned his would-be killer as he emerged from the nearby undergrowth. Haytham smoothed down his coat as he walked, dislodging a few stray leaves, before stopping at her side, an eyebrow raised at the unconscious guard before him.

Kira ignored him. She was looking up at the balcony, which appeared remarkably inaccessible, even with her skillset. "Are you sure this is the best way in?"

"On the contrary, I think it is quite possibly the worst way in. Which means…?" he prompted.

"No guards," she finished begrudgingly, folding her arms. "You needn't test me as you would your men, Mr Kenway- I can string two rational thoughts together without you holding my hand."

Haytham grinned, his eyes now fixed on the balcony. "I believe you," he murmured, positioning himself strategically beneath it whilst linking his hands together before him. "Now…" he nodded at the temporary foothold he'd created, "would you like my help, or would that be too crushing a blow to your independence?"

Kira's hands moved to her hips. "Very funny."

"I thought so too. Now come- we haven't much time."

The woman did as she was asked: approaching him and stepping up into the purchase of his hold. She rested a hand on his shoulder- steadying herself as she prepared to make her leap- and felt him tense beneath her grip.

"Are you ready?" he asked as her attention sunk back to him.

She nodded, somewhat distracted. With a sharp movement, Haytham lifted her into a jump- giving her the extra height required to reach the balcony above. She winced as she latched onto it, pulling herself up and over the balustrade with a restrained groan and setting herself quietly down on the other side. As she recovered from the effort, she glimpsed over the nearby windows and door that could grant her entrance to the home.

"Miss Lawrence," Haytham's voice entreated impatiently from below her, "a hand, if you please?"

She paused, still in contemplative silence, and made a sudden decision. She leant forward against the balcony's rail, resting her chin in her palm, and looked emotionlessly down at the Templar. "No."

He sighed. "This isn't the time for games."

"Then you'll be relieved to know I am not playing any."

Haytham's face fell. He stepped forward, opening his mouth to speak, before hesitating as though he had swiftly thought better of it. "Whatever you are thinking," he said, finally, "I implore you to rethink it."

"No."

"Really?" he hissed, patience thinning, "after everything that I have-"

"Oh, spare me your wounded speeches," she cut in, "this is not some grand show of treachery- however misplaced your trust may be. I'll fetch the ledger for you, but I'll do it alone."

Haytham was lost. He had gone from exasperation, concern, relief, confusion- and all within a matter of seconds. He threw up his hands in dismissal, unable to see a single shred of rationality in the Assassin's reasoning. "Why?"

"Because Ido not trust you," she replied, as though it were obvious. "I should like to see this through without any bloodshed, and I do not believe you- with all your callous indifferences- capable of such a thing. I will do this my own way. You will have what you need, but more importantly-" she glared down at him accusingly- "no one gets hurt."

"Oh, but you will get hurt," Haytham smiled wryly, "when you are forced to come down from there, and I-"

"Play nice," Kira warned, before adding with a flaunt of her leverage: "or else."

The man stilled. Kira could spend the rest of the evening quite happily taunting him from beyond his reach, and thus, a safe distance from whatever wrath such acts would incur. Given that he appeared too affronted to counter her threat for the time being, she moved to peer through the window of the house- ensuring there was no new imminent threat from inside. When she held her breath to focus her senses on what lay within, she could vaguely make out the distant din of conversation floating up from the party downstairs.

Satisfied, she began to work the lock of the door. As she rotated the pick and tested different angles, her fingers numbed, forcing her to flex them back to life with every attempt she made. When the lock finally gave way, she buried her hands in her pockets with almost euphoric relief.

"Miss Lawrence?" came Haytham's voice at last.

She smiled to herself as she straightened, amused that it had taken him quite this long to recover from what she'd said. With another cautionary glance through the window, she returned to the edge of the balcony, her expression shifting to one of frustration as she looked down from it. "What?"

Haytham met her gaze. "Be careful."

The Assassin frowned, her façade of agitation crumbling as she waited for the warning to reveal itself as some insult or charade- but it didn't. She nodded- convinced that to respond in any other sense was to invite consequence- before disappearing from the man's sight a final time.

She should be back by now.

Haytham scolded himself as he paced beneath the cover of the balcony, where he had spent the last thirty minutes wondering how he had been so ridiculously foolish as to give an enemy such opportunity to betray him. As the time had crept forwards, and as the still evening air turned to harsh, driving rain, his frustrations had dissolved into something even more troubling: concern.

Concern. Of all the things to experience, when it was he stood, abandoned, freezing half to death in this now treacherous weather, with nothing but the word of an unspeakably stubborn Assassin that he would be rewarded with what he came for. How- when confronted by all of this- he could feel anything even vaguely resembling concern towards the woman, he didn't know. After all, it was she who had been so senseless as to discard him in the first place.

A crack of thunder split the monotonous patter of rain. Haytham sighed, stepping out from under the balcony to consider the sky above, where any stars had long since been consumed by a blanket of indistinguishable dark cloud. There was no sign that the storm had any intention of breaking. Haytham had circled the house a few times- ensuring the party within was undisturbed- though decided against another inspection as dampness began to seep through his clothes.

He stepped under cover once more, removing his hat and watching dejectedly the water that fell from it as he tipped it to the side. He shook it a few times, ridding it of whatever was left, and looked back at the house as he did so. There were other ways inside. Ways that were guarded- but still, conceivable entries. Unaware as he was of Kira's whereabouts, though, there was no telling what risks he might pose to her by intervening.

And there was that concern again. God, it was insufferable.

With a light thud upon the sodden ground, something landed behind him. He turned.

Kira stepped to join him beneath the cover of the balcony, lowering her hood. She was a vision of well-being: her eyes bright, her cheeks flush with warmth, her hair and attire untouched by the weather that had been corroding Haytham's spirit for the last half hour. She was utterly beautiful, and it was a fact Haytham could and most certainly would have enjoyed were he not already plotting a dozen ways to get back at her.

She was looking over him too, and with only a moment's assessment of his bedraggled state, began to laugh. "Heavens," she spoke as she tried to catch her breath, "you look awful."

"Yes, well," Haytham forced a smile, "this is what happens when you trust someone who-"

"Here." Quite unaffected by whatever tangent Haytham was about to take, Kira had stepped towards him, offering a handkerchief she had withdrawn from a pocket of her coat.

He eyed it warily before taking it. "Thank you."

Kira watched as he used it to dry his face, which would do little to relieve his overall discomfort, but would at least- she hoped- be a good start. He still radiated displeasure, however, and at her own peril, she found herself laughing delicately once more.

Haytham looked up at her, agitated, though she could tell the expression was starting to wane. "Keep that up and you will be looking far worse than this when I am done with you."

The threat only encouraged her. "I'm not entirely sure that's possible."

The sky sounded with another deafening crash of thunder, and Kira moved to look up at it, peering around the balcony above. She had always loved storms. There was something almost celestial to the way that they-

She felt a strong pair of arms circle around her waist, and before she could even register what was happening, she was being dragged out into the rain. She gasped as it struck her, the cold of it almost stealing her breath away. "Wait! Please, wait," she pleaded, choking back laughter.

"For what it's worth," Haytham grinned through gritted teeth as he fought to restrain her, "I did not want it to come to this, but you-" he drew in a sharp breath as she stamped down on one of his feet- "forced my hand."

"Liar," she exclaimed, struggling to get free, but unable to twist her way out of the man's grip.

They grappled with one another for another half-minute. When sufficient time had passed for the rain to soak the Assassin through, Haytham released her, and she staggered away from him, gazing mournfully down at herself. "I did warn you," he remarked.

She regarded him, brow furrowed, as she peeled a few strands of wet hair from her face. "You did. Though I seem to have had the last laugh," she smirked as she smoothed back her hair, "because I am sure I still look quite fetching."

Haytham frowned, raising a hand to his chin as though he had to think about it. "Turn around," he ordered, and Kira obeyed with a knowing smile, allowing him a better chance to inspect her new look. His revenge, regrettably, had done nothing to diminish how beautiful she was. He hummed thoughtfully as she finished her turn. "Passable, I suppose."

She scoffed. "Passable? That's…" she glanced down at herself once more and chuckled, "fair." Wiping her brow with her sleeve, she noticed the guard she had incapacitated lying- still very unconscious and by now thoroughly waterlogged- a few paces from her feet. "So," she sighed as she moved to drag him beneath the balcony, "are we going to talk business, or do you wish to spend the rest of the evening further injuring my self-esteem?"

"I suspect that will depend on how well you fared."

Kira smiled dryly as she stood from lowering the guard. "Come," she said, raising her hood as she stepped back out into the rain, "we had better not talk here."

In agreement of the fact, they slipped in companionable silence from the gardens to the streets of Boston, where any late-night strays had retired to the safety of their homes- or far more plausibly, the nearest tavern. The need to devote any particular effort to stealth had vanished beneath the hammer of rain, though it was not until they had fled a considerable distance that they were able to shed the innate need for furtiveness that was, to each of them, second-nature.

Kira slowed as they passed beneath the awning of a store; the Green Dragon stood just a little further down the street. She had been content to return there, given the weather, though as Haytham cut in front of her, she was forced to reach an involuntary stop.

"The ledger," he said sternly, outstretching a hand. "Give it to me."

She blinked down at the gesture, unimpressed, but not in the least surprised. "So discourteous," she tutted, as she tried to step past him, "aren't you supposed to be a nobleman of sorts?"

His hand moved to stop her. "I won't ask again."

The woman took a deep breath, meeting his gaze to assure him that she was wholly unperturbed by whatever he was trying, and that the patience she now exercised was running dangerously thin. It was a look he was able to match: an assertion that he refused to concede the authority required for their sudden standoff to end well.

Kira's eyes narrowed in a silent dare. With a pained sigh, Haytham dropped his arm. She stepped triumphantly past him, and made it a small way until his voice came quietly from behind her.

"Miss Lawrence?"

She turned on her heel to face him, an eyebrow raised in question.

"Dear, illustrious Miss Lawrence," he pressed, sidling closer with an overly gracious smile, "on the provision that you actually have it- would you please be so kind as to grace me with the ledger?"

Kira placed a hand on her heart, thoroughly enjoying the theatrics. "Why I would be positively delighted to, Mr Kenway- overjoyed, even. However-" she dropped her tone- "I do not have it."

It was a trap, of sorts, and one by now Haytham knew better than to step into. He crossed his arms. "So, what exactly do you have?"

Kira briefly admired that he had read her so well. "Something better," she declared. "Let us say that our dear friend the quartermaster discovers his ledger missing and has the sense to know he has not misplaced it. He might then assume it has been stolen, and that would mean…" she prompted.

"He'd have reason to move the supplies," Haytham smiled, appreciating the irony of the moment, and moreover, the intelligence of the thought.

Kira grinned, reaching into an inner pocket to reveal several folded pieces of parchment: notes she had written from the quartermaster's ledger. She handed them to Haytham, watching as he looked methodically over each. "What on earth did you think had taken me so long?"

"The observation of those inane morals of yours, perhaps," the man retorted, still reading, "or just a general lack of efficiency." He glanced up at her at last, eyes glistening with amusement. "Here-" he said, offering her half of the papers back, "you have more than earned it."

The woman studied the proposed gift for a few seconds, disbelievingly, and then started to chuckle.

"Oh, God," Haytham groaned, "what have you done?"

Still very much entertained, Kira reached into a different pocket and withdrew a small personal journal. She opened it to where she had jotted down her fair share of the ledger's contents, and held it out to Haytham: a confession of sorts. "I am honoured, though," she said, as he acknowledged it with a frown, "that you believe it within my character to be so selfless."

Haytham tucked the papers she'd given him into his coat, shaking his head with an exasperated huff. He looked over towards the Green Dragon, where a patron had clattered drunkenly from the entrance, only to immediately recoil inside when hit by rain. Beside him, Kira's focus had been drawn by the same movement. Her lips quirked slightly, though she pulled her arms closer around herself as she watched, cold: a brief show of frailty, and the first she had betrayed all evening.

Of all the hardships Haytham had inflicted on her, it was the one for which he felt the least remorse.

He smiled, casting his gaze away once more. "Charles would have followed my orders."

She smiled too. It was a memory she doubted she would ever recall without doing so: Haytham, an hour or so prior, telling Charles he was no longer needed for the evening's plans. The younger Templar had seethed at the news, and Kira had basked in the experience far more than she could have ever done a triumphant checkers game.

"He would," she confirmed with a tip of her head. "Still," she nudged the Templar playfully with her elbow, "I make for exceedingly better company, don't you think?"

Haytham was stirred by neither the action nor the words. His attention was fixed to where his companions were waiting, with no doubt a barrage of questions and protests prepared for his return. There was, at least, a momentary solace to be found in turning to the woman at his side. "I do."

Kira tensed- so slight it was almost imperceptible. She didn't look back at him; she wasn't entirely sure she could. "I should go," she breathed, after a few unbearably long moments, and because it was all she could think of to say.

Haytham nodded, listless with a taint of regret. "Thank you," he said, tapping his coat where he had stored the documents, "for this- however foolishly it was acquired."

"No, thank you," Kira countered with a grin, "for this evening. It's been…" she sighed wistfully. "Passable."

The wit was rewarded with a soft laugh, almost drowned out by the cascading of the rain; the habitual silence that followed brought with it an air of finality. With a shared glance, the pair exchanged an unspoken farewell.

Kira slipped silently back into the storm, and Haytham watched as her figure morphed into ambiguity within the downpour and the shadows. He relaxed, wandering over to lean against the wall of the store, and eyeing the Green Dragon almost resentfully as he settled. There was time, he assured himself- plentiful time. And heavens knew he needed it.

That barrage of questions and protests still awaited him. To be in any position to tackle them, he should probably try to make sense of it all himself.


Author's Notes:

Heyyy everyone! So it's been a longer wait for this chapter, but it has ended up being the longest chapter so far, so yay? I underestimated how distracted I would be now I'm at home and not at uni. But the bonus of me waiting to get inspired was that I got very carried away and there are now a load of (what I hope are) cute moments in the second half of this that were never in the original plan. This fic is very self-indulgent, so if I see an opportunity for a *moment*, I just kinda go with it. I think it's worked out for the best, hopefully you do too. :D

Thanks again Young - Eagle - 1725 for your super kind comment, am so glad you enjoyed the last chapter! And thanks to anyone else who's made it this far and is reading this- you're awesome and I hope you're having a great day!

I appreciate any likes, follows, and comments- thanks for the support! Will get writing the next chapter asap.