This was getting ridiculous.

Malik stared across the dimly lit bureau at the assassin dozing in the next room, his torso swathed in bandages, their stark whiteness standing out in contrast against his tanned skin. This wasn't the first time he had dropped by in need of medical attention after an assassination, beaten, bruised and bloody, and Malik doubted it would be the last.

Altaïr threw himself into his missions with such sincere, single-minded determination, so much so that it was typical for him to not even realize the extent of the injuries he had sustained until after the adrenaline from battle had faded. In a way, Malik thought it amusing - Altaïr was so focused on his path to redemption that he could likely get himself killed before noticing that anything was amiss, but on the other hand, Malik found it troubling. Not so long ago, he'd been all but begging Al Mualim to drive a dagger through Altaïr's heart as atonement for Kadar's death, but now, he couldn't help but wonder... what would be gained if Altaïr were to die?

The one-armed Dai shook his head, frowning to himself and turning around before he could see one amber eye sliding open, watching his back as he departed into the other room.

In the morning, the two spoke little over breakfast, as was their custom. Malik checked over Altaïr's wounds, then gave him permission to return to duty. As Malik busied himself with tending to his maps, the assassin wasted no time in pulling on his white robes, offering the other man a simple thank-you before making to leave.

But in that split second it took Altaïr to turn around, Malik couldn't help but recall the thoughts that troubled his mind the night before. "Altaïr," he called, and the assassin stopped in his tracks.

"Yes?" Altaïr responded reluctantly, shifting to glance over at Malik. He frowned slightly, but the expression was hidden by his white cowl, pulled low over his face.

"Before you go..." Malik began, then trailed off, chastising himself for not thinking this through more. It was stupid. He shook his head before continuing. "Keep safe. It would not hurt to take care of yourself every now and then."

That didn't seem to be what Altaïr had been expecting, if the incredulous scoff was anything to go by. "I always take care of myself," he said indignantly, turning to leave again, but the long-suffering sigh from behind the desk made him pause.

"No, you do not." Malik didn't bother looking up from the maps scattered across the surface of his desk, choosing to scowl at ink and parchment rather than Altaïr's face. He figured the assassin wouldn't mind; he likely knew the sharp bite of Malik's glare far too well by now. "You only see to it that the mission is completed by any means possible, and this tendency of yours has a way of causing trouble."

Altaïr grimaced wordlessly at the reminder, knowing all too well what that trouble entailed, his eyes trailing of their own volition to the Dai and stopping at the place where his left arm ought to be. Malik could feel his heavy gaze and, without looking up, waved his remaining hand in a dismissive gesture before continuing on. "Yes, yes, we both know you have caused other people pain in your bullheaded determination, but have you ever noticed how often you have gotten yourself injured, Altaïr?"

The assassin had apparently given up on leaving and was well into the bureau by now, only a few steps away from the desk. Malik figured his silence meant he was thinking over the words, weighing them in his mind. Really, he didn't need to spell it out to the other man - how often indeed did he come to the one-armed Dai in need of aid, to remove an arrow, to stitch a nasty gash from a sword, to set broken bones from a slippery fall?

Eventually, Altaïr shrugged wordlessly by way of response, and Malik took it to be the best sign of admittance he could get out of the relentlessly stubborn man. He finally abandoned his mapping and offered the assassin a rare smile, reaching over the desk to place a hand on his shoulder briefly. "Remember, Altaïr, while I once wanted nothing more than to have seen you dead, that time has passed. Now, instead, you would let too many people down if you were to fall."

Shockingly, Altaïr returned the smile, grasping Malik's hand on his shoulder before placing it back to its previous spot the desk. "As you wish, brother."

And with that, he turned and slunk out of the bureau, leaving Malik surprised, but not unpleasantly so.