Eventually Jacob tired of sitting on Starrick's floor and simply glaring at him. When it became obvious that the man had no intention of paying him any heed, Jacob decided some exploring was in order – because he'd be damned if Starrick thought he could order him to bed like a child.

So Jacob poked around the huge, ornate room. Now that he had time to inspect a place of Templar holding without having to worry about getting caught and murdered by said Templars, he couldn't help but blink in wonder at how richly they lived. Jacob knew that they did, of course. A man like Starrick with a business like Starrick and a hold over the city like Starrick didn't live in squalor. But the room was beyond extravagant, even for such a man.

The floor was covered end to end in marvelous runners and carpets, all thick and plush beneath Jacob's shoeless feet. He curled his toes in it pleasantly as he took in the rich woods that comprised the room, dark and gleaming in the candlelight. His ceiling was ordained with intricate light fixtures and coffered designs, taller than most rooms he'd been in that were still considered residential and not a bank or government building. His desk was heavy as it was surely expensive, and all along his walls were ornate shelves of books spanning a diverse range of topics – from philosophy to economics to war to surgical analysis. It was simply amazing; Evie would kill for access to a library of this caliber.

His small fingers traced the spines of a dozen books, all of them bound in leather and soft beneath his touch. He curled one fingertip into the edge of a single book and slowly turned to look at Starrick, curious if he were watching. Satisfied that he wasn't, he gently pulled the book from its spot, his eyes on his enemy all the while. When the book finally fell from its shelf and slammed to the floor with a crisp slap, Starrick jumped – and damn, if that didn't feel satisfying as hell. Jacob grinned maliciously, ready to start a fight.

But to his surprise, Starrick didn't rise to the bait. Once he settled from his moment of surprise, he looked at Jacob from beneath hooded eyes with the patience of another man and said, "I understand you've been through a lot of change tonight, Jacob. Get it out of your system," and returned his gaze to his work before saying softly, "If only for this one night."

That baffled the young assassin. He stood there transfixed, his jaw agape as he waited for Starrick to pull the rug out from under him. He'd just let Jacob terrorize his room with no issue? Did he think that Jacob would get over this in one night? Jacob scoffed and turned away, but not without giving the book a good kick for measure – peeking out at Starrick from beneath his lashes just to test him. The man didn't even stir. Jacob grit his teeth.

As fun as destroying the room like a hurricane while Starrick watched would be, Jacob couldn't help but think – 'Yes, but what would Evie do?' That destructive sort of thinking had gotten him stuck in Attaway's carriage and seated at Roth's table. Things that surely would have never happened to Evie. No, she was more calm, more calculating. She'd use this time to plan, to identify anything that could help her – to escape.

And if there was one thing he wished he had said to his sister before their last mission, it was that he thought she was a brilliant assassin when she wasn't busy being a preaching ass – and he could learn a thing or two from her patience. Even if he didn't agree with most of her methods.

So with one long calming breath, Jacob turned his focus onto more productive ends: identifying assets that could aid in his escape.

The windows were beautiful and ornate, made of delicate painted glass – easy to break, but they led to nothing but air and a long drop. As a man, a potential exit. As a boy? Not so much. No go on the windows. Jacob frowned and turned to look at the other side of the room. The man's bed was huge, but Jacob wasn't sure if that was because he was small or because Roth actually had that much money to burn.

He glanced beneath it as quietly as he could manage, hoping the man had decided to conceal a gun beneath it. No such luck, but he did find a box with a lock affixed to its front. Curious. He made note of that for later. He poked his head over the side of the bed to check on Roth, only to find him still buried deep in his paperwork. Good. Jacob hoped he'd drown in it. Or at least get a paper cut, the prick.

He turned his attention next to the small night stand at the side of the bed. It held a bible and a rosary on its tabletop – no surprise there, Jacob thought. In its drawer he found a few notebooks, a pen, and a rather wicked knife. He was tempted to grab it then and there, and draw it on Starrick while they were free of other Blighters. But he knew that despite that man's busy façade, he was no doubt keeping a careful eye on Jacob nonetheless. Sure the man wasn't wearing the Piece of Eden, but Jacob would never get close enough to capitalize on the situation regardless.

That was when Jacob realized that his normal means of assassination – quick and lethal brute force – would do him no good as he was. He'd have to channel Evie's methods of working instead and stick to the shadows, utilizing the element of surprise rather than strength of his body. He didn't like that at all. He didn't have the patience for it, he never did.

He closed the drawer quietly and moved onto Starrick's dresser. It had a few framed photographs, no doubt of family or prestigious acquaintances. But otherwise it was pretty barren of knickknacks – or anything helpful, for that matter. Jacob crossed his arms and frowned, quickly running out of places to investigate.

The room had pretty much been covered, except for the piano at the far end, across from Starrick's desk – and then of course, Starrick's desk itself. And there was still one large, looming question at hand: where was the Shroud.

Jacob rubbed at his eyes, suddenly tired. He had only been awake for a few hours now, but the adventure that had filled them had been fierce for his little body. Out of nowhere, he felt as though he had been sucker punched by exhaustion. He rubbed his face and shook his head like a dog, hoping to rid himself of the haze that was slowly creeping over his mind. The dimness of the room wasn't helping matters, either.

When he looked up, Starrick's eyes were on him. Jacob squared his jaw and glared at him, daring him to say something. But the Templar simply returned to his work, letting Jacob do as he pleased.

Eager to stay on his feet lest he tire quicker, Jacob forced himself over to the piano. It was a huge thing, and obviously well loved. Despite its glamorous condition, its seat was creased with use. There was no sheet music to be found though, oddly. Did the man play by memory? Or did he compose himself?

Jacob ran small fingers along the tops of the keys without pressing them, but found no dust. So the man must play often. He delicately tapped his fingers soundlessly across three keys, lost in thought. He could vaguely remember a tune from a long, long time ago. Happy, beautiful. He could see the silhouette of someone playing, someone familiar.

"Your mother was marvelous at this, back when she used to play. Before she met your… Well, she was always much better than me anyway," an old voice said kindly, sadly, as she played for him. "You have the same long fingers. Would you like to learn?"

But the memory quickly bled away as a louder tune – harsher, more painful – suddenly came to mind. The local barman's entertainer singing a ballad about Roth's death a mere fortnight ago.

The Blighter and Assassin made a deadly double bill.

Jacob shuddered and pressed down a little too hard on one of the keys because of it, a soft note playing in response – breaking up the silence.

"I could teach you," Starrick said, making Jacob jump. He looked up to find the man looking at him, his gaze strange and uncomfortably piercing. Jacob scoffed.

"You should have taken Evie if you wanted a pianist," Jacob said.

Starrick considered this for a short moment, then shrugged and muttered a soft, "Pity," as he turned back to his work. Whether in regards to not having taken Evie instead or just Jacob's outright refusal, he didn't know. It unsettled him either way.

Out of places to investigate, Jacob picked a nook behind the piano, just out of Starrick's direct sight, and sat. He pressed his thin back against the wall and brought his knees up to his chest, suddenly overwhelmed.

Everything was just so large now. He had found a knife, which was great, but surely Starrick knew he'd find it. No doubt it'd eventually go missing before he could ever find a way to grab it unescorted. There was nothing in this room but dusty pages, a madman, and an assassin trapped in the body of a little boy. Jacob trembled, and hated himself for it. He bit his lip lest it start quivering and quickly shoved his face into his knees.

'Hush now, Jacob,' he thought to himself. 'All is not lost. Just stay calm. Find the Shroud. Turn back into a man. Kill that fucking prick, Starrick, and find Evie. Piece of cake.'

He repeated the words to himself until he felt his mind falling into a lull amidst the soothing repetition, and the words followed him down into the dark.

Starrick watched as the boy wore himself out. It was a painful process to watch, but necessary nonetheless. Jacob was a bright boy, despite his rash behavior. He didn't take the opportunity to harm Starrick or himself with the knife when he found it – nor did he utilize Starrick's invitation to tear the room apart. He investigated everything quietly, like a dog settling into a new home; and Starrick couldn't be more pleased with the development.

He watched as Jacob trailed small, thin fingers along the alabaster keys of his beloved piano – lost in thought. Watched as the boy yawned despite himself in his explorations, his little hands rubbing at his eyes. It was hard to remember that this boy was a man mere days ago. That he would've lodged a knife in Starrick's throat if given the chance.

But now, his little assassin was curled up in the corner where he thought Starrick would not see him – obviously trying to calm himself down. Starrick gave him his privacy, waiting until his little ribs eased into a more soothing pattern and his breathing slowed. Finally, the hands around his knees began to slacken, and Starrick decided that was enough for one night.

He rose from his seat slowly, making sure to ease out the achy kinks that had grown into his muscles from hours of sitting at a desk. Then he made his way over to Jacob – slowly, lest he startle him. But the boy was exhausted, and even when got so close that Starrick's shadow eclipsed him, he did not stir.

"Dear boy," Starrick said, kneeling down to gather him into his arms. He was light, and just like in the chambers where Starrick first held him, he couldn't help but think – too light. He'd feed him in the morning. Something hardy and filling.

When Jacob didn't stir, Starrick took that moment to walk him over to the large bed and gently lay him in it. He looked even smaller now, if possible – dwarfed as he was in the bed. Starrick tucked a stray lock from Jacob's brow and rose to return to his studies.

There'd be hell to pay in the morning, no doubt, when Jacob fully recovered from his excitement. He'd need to be ready by then.

[a/n]

Two things!

a.) Just wanted to give you a heads up that I'm going to DragonCon this weekend for an extended trip starting tomorrow and won't be back until next Wednesday - which means no updates in the mean time. But stay tuned, there's more to come!

b.) A huge thank you to those of you who have been supporting the fic. I appreciate your enthusiasm and it makes my day to hear you're enjoying the read. As always, constructive feedback is always welcome and appreciated. You guys are awesome.