INTERMISSION

"Fried biscotti! Fresh, piping hot biscotti!" Ezio dully raised his eyes to the man draped with open boxes, all carrying the nose-wrinkling scent of fried oil, as he loudly made his way past, "Five florins a pop! Fresh, hot biscotti!"

"I take it you're not hungry, eh, Ezio?" Antonio asked as he approached the Assassin by his seat on the floor, slumped against the wall.

Ezio snorted in response and pulled his black hood down farther over his eyes.

"So..." Antonio inhaled and carefully set himself down beside the younger man, "How are you enjoying the performance?"

"Is that even a question?" Ezio replied dryly.

"I thought as much..." Antonio said, disappointed. There was a silence and Antonio frowned as his friend's gloomy attitude grew in intensity and proceeded to smother him. Intermission had begun some fifteen minutes ago- the viewers were calmly flushed from the stage area and now they clogged up the hallways. Ezio focused his smoldering gaze on a child playfully sprinting up and down the corridor, wearing a nearly-faithful Assassino costume (complete with a papery cape tied onto his right shoulder).

"According to the program," The thief master began, clearing his throat, "There are two more acts."

"Bellissimo," The Assassin responded through gritted teeth, "another hour of this cazzo producer's attempts at ruining my reputation."

"Come now, Ezio," Antonio sighed, soothingly rubbing his hand on the man's shoulder, "It isn't so bad. Besides, Rosa and I ought to be in the next part! Aren't you just a bit curious?"

"No." Ezio said curtly and retreated beneath his hood for the second time.

"Avanti," Antonio replied, rolling his black eyes, "Why won't you just be an adult about this?"

"Why won't you give up trying to convince me that this isn't a waste of time?" Ezio's disembodied voice fired back, muffled through his cloak.

"Alright, alright, fine." Antonio said slowly, standing. He brushed his tunic off before leaving the Assassin with one piece of advice, "I won't bother you anymore. Just remember- the playwright wrote this because he admires you."

Ezio heard the words, but they took a few moments to meld into him. Admiration...? He wondered...

"Che cazzo...?" He muttered, pushing back his hood as he scanned the hallway for the master thief. Suddenly, his vision was blocked by the figure of a small boy, dressed in a white hood and brown cloak. Ezio raised an eyebrow as the child scrutinized him in great detail for some unknown reason.

"Hmm," The boy mused, stepping back, "Your Assassino costume is pretty good, but your hood is the wrong color. And your scar is on the wrong side."

Ezio's eyes widened and the edges of his mouth twitched as the child swiftly turned and continued running down the corridor.

"...The scar is NOT on the wrong side!" He spluttered indignantly, diving beneath his hood yet again.

"Will the audience please return to the stage area!" A loud man with a bell announced, moving quickly through the studio, "The show is recommencing soon! Will the audience please return to the stage area!"

"So, Ezio," Rosa turned to the Assassin in her seat, green eyes glinting, "Ready?"

"Unfortunately," He sighed, rubbing his tired eyes.

"Hey- has either of you two seen Leonardo?" Antonio called nervously, gripping the edge of the seats as he leaned forward in the row, "I've been looking all over for him!"

"No," Rosa shook her head, her brown waves swinging in response, "Sorry."

Antonio grunted in annoyance and moved on.

"Messere, you really shouldn't be back here!" A stagehand tried desperately to shoo the genius from the shaded area, but his conviction could not be moved.

"I will leave soon, bene?" The artist said absently as he proceeded to search for his target.

"But the show is resuming!" The stagehand continued, crying out, "I cannot allow you to be here! I could lose my job, honorable signore!"

"Calma, amico," Leonardo said, grasping the frightened man by the shoulders and forcing him to stare into his hypnotizingly blue eyes, "I will be gone in a matter of minutes. All I want is to speak to the actor who plays Leonardo da Vinci."

"But-!" The cast member stuttered, "But he is to be on stage soon!"

"Just one minute," Leonardo said soothingly, "That's all I need."

The stagehand gulped nervously and thought for a moment. Then he nodded shakily and the genius released him with a soft 'grazie'. Leonardo waited anxiously for several long minutes, tapping his foot and folding his arms. Soon, hurried footsteps sounded across the wooden backstage and the artist turned to see his short lookalike frowning in annoyance as he tried in vain to free his wrist from the messenger's hand.

"I found him, signore!" The man announced, pulling to an immediate stop, "Now please- hurry up with what you wanted!"

"What is this?" The actor snarled, rubbing his sore wrist. His brown eyes ran over the true genius with contempt, "Who are you?"

"You play Leonardo da Vinci, si?" Leonardo asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I do," He nodded, "And I shall let you know I am supposed to be onstage in a few moments!"

"Well, I happen to have some important things to say," Leonardo's voice lowered tremendously and his blue eyes began to morph from curious and cheerful to menacing and black, "And you are going to hear them."

It seemed this unusual show of intimidation caught the smaller man by surprise, and he found himself unable to respond.

"Bene," Leonardo began, nodding in approval, "Now- I happen to be a very good friend of Messer Leonardo, and I do not believe you are representing him properly."

"But-" the actor attempted, but Leonardo's voice was a knife to his words.

"You are too prompt, too arrogant, and too flimsy." He continued, "Tell me, what do you know of Leonardo? Anything?"

The actor clearly did not trust himself to speak, as the timid silence stretched on. The true artist seemed to grow taller by the minute and his stone-cold gaze was enough to frighten anyone. "Well?"

"N-N-Nothing, signore," The man croaked, "I only listened to what the playwright told me to say!"

"Well then," Leonardo resumed bitterly, "I shall have to instruct you. First of all- you are playing a mastermind. A genius, painter, architect, scientist- whatever you want to call it. You must appreciate this."

"Of course, messere," the man nodded quickly.

"Everything you say must sound intelligent," Leonardo continued, "You must appear refined- but always open to friends. After all, relationships build and sustain our legacies."

"Certainly, messere," he agreed shakily.

"And finally, the last thing you absolutely refuse to do-" Leonardo inhaled sharply, rearing himself back on his heels to deliver the final blow. The actor shrunk, paling considerably. The stagehand covered his eyes.

"-Smile!" Leonardo grinned, clapping the man on the shoulder, "Enjoy yourself!"

With that, the artist turned briskly and whisked himself through the exit, rushing back to the audience seats. The actor felt his jaw drop and stared after the mysterious blonde man in wonder- until the stagehand grabbed him and dragged him back to the stage, whispering fiercely about how late they would be.

END INTERMISSION