"I hate you."

"I gathered."

"I really, really hate you."

Silence.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Don't you have some astoundingly witty reply that you're eager to share?"

"No."

"No?"

"No."

"Fine. Then I'll start."

"You do that."

"Why are you here?"

"Why are you here?"

"I asked first."

"And I'm asking second."

"I was walking along because someone told me to scram from the training grounds, and then I heard those two pacing around."

"Hm," I sighed, trying to shift into a more comfortable position. It didn't work. "Same."

"Who told you to scram? I want to thank the man."

"I meant I heard the lover's quarrel. Didn't want to intrude."

"Really? You?"

"I have some tact left."

"Could have fooled me. And I swear the god, woman, don't move that knee any higher."

"Why are you so worried?" I mocked. I could almost feel his glare.

"Let me guess? The door locked behind you."

"Hm? Oh, yes. Unless it opens the other way, yes, it locked behind me."

"Lovely," he shifted. I grimaced…there was an uncomfortable amount of contact involved.

"Stop moving. It's cramped as it is."

"It was quite roomy until you came along, actually."

"Are you making a crack about my weight?"

"Not at all."

After a second, I groaned. "Fuck."

"Yep. Oh, and by the way, I retract my statement from earlier. You are not flat as a board, it seems."

"Oh, gee, thanks so much for your approval," I self-consciously tried moving farther away from him, but the walls rudely refused to let me sink through them.

"Why did the make the ceiling so damn low on this thing, anyway?" Ezio grumbled as he hovered over my head, having to lean on the wall behind me to keep as much space between as possible and not collapse on me completely.

"I don't know. Ask the architect," I snapped at him. To say I was in a bad mood was to say the least. "And why the hell are you so wet?"

"I just came out of the bathhouse."

"Ah. Should have known- you actually smelt clean for once."

"Thanks for tha- hey!"

"I aim to please." Silence fell between us for a while. Suddenly he spoke up.

"When do you think we're going to get out of here?"

"I don't know. But hopefully, very soon." I didn't like the fact that I noticed how hard his chest was. Dammit it all.

"Aw, come on, admit it. You want me."

"Yes! I do want you! Right here, right now, in this very small closet that for some stupid reason locks itself!" I hissed, kicking him.

"Okay, ow!"

"You deserved that, you asshole."

"When was the last time you were even this close to a man, anyway?"

Too long, it appears. "Not long enough to even consider you a man. You're more of a slug in my mind."

"Lovely image."

"It is, but it doesn't add to your non-existent charm."

Lies, dammit. I hated him so freaking much. And I also hated the fact that I was still human, female, and still overloaded with hormones. I fell silent, trying my hardest to ignore the fact that he smelled like soap and something distinctly male, not unpleasant, though. Not to mention the heat that radiated off his body. This isn't right! I frantically thought. This is the most annoying, naive, arrogant, stubborn jackass…and he hates me as much as I hate him!

Okay, so I didn't hate him. But I really wanted to. It would make things a lot easier.

All cats are gray in the dark. I never understood the full meaning of that until now, really. Stupid hormones.

"Well, never though I'd see the day. You're quiet," he sneered through the dark, and the reality finally came crashing down on me. I almost sighed with relief.

"What, would you rather I chattered your ear off?"

"No, but I'm starting to wonder if you fell asleep of something. Or died."

"No reason to sound so hopeful."

"Hm. You're right. The smell would be horrible."

I punched him in the side, though due to the lack of space, it was weak. He reflexively moved to trap my hand between his hip and the wall.

"Let go." I growled.

"So you can punch me again?"

I let out another growl in anger. My other hand was on my other side and I was unable to help myself out of the trap. He was strong and the closet was small.

"If you don't let me go," I lowered my voice dangerously, "I'll give you a hug."

He gasped in mock horror. Admittedly, I was struggling to hold back a grin. Trust me, it was quite difficult. "You wouldn't!"

"Oh, I so would!"

"Do you even know what a hug is? Seeing as you never had one in your life?"

"Well, I guess the hugs I get aren't as innocent as ones between friends. But I'm sure the technique is the same."

"Seriously though, don't touch me."

"Let go of my arm."

"No."

"Now you're just being stubborn."

"Learn from the best. And I like to see just how far you'd go."

"Ha ha," I laughed sourly, "I guess my arm is not that important. If I can just reach my knife..."

"Don't get blood on me."

I swore under my breath.

"What is it now?"

"My knives are in my boots. I can't reach."

"Aw."

"Asshole," I snapped, "I also have a lock pick in there."

"How many things are hidden on you?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Not really, no."

"If can get to them, I'll open the door."

"Well, you can't."

"No shit, Sherlock."

"Who?"

"Famous detective. Never mind."

"Oh."

"Could you reach?"

"Maybe."

"Okay, that's my thigh."

"Well, I can't see a damn thing."

"And you're supposed to be an assassin."

"Exactly! An assassin! Not an owl!"

"...Duly noted."

I felt his warm hand slide down my leg. His hair brushed my face as he leaned down, the arm that was still leaning onto to wall behind me barely a millimeter above my shoulder. I resisted the urge to shiver.

"I can't reach!"

I lifted my leg up a bit, turning slightly to give him better access. His arm must have slipped or something, because somehow it ended up on my waist. But only for a second. He moved it to the wall quickly, and I was thankful he did.

"Damn, how many pockets to you have?"

"The lock pick is in the very bottom one!" I hissed. "Hurry up! Your hair is wet!"

His hands were on my leg again, now lower and feeling around my calf, right above my boots. He seemed to have found the pocket, finally, quickly sliding up my body again as he straightened out.

"Got it!" He felt around for my hand and I felt the familiar thin metal.

"Took you long enough," I growled, moving my other hand to the pocket that was much closer to the to and pulling out my lighter. "You might want to move away a bit more."

"What? Why?"

"You might get burned."

"What are you doing?" he seemed to be panicking now, but I ignored him, clicking on the lighter. The small flame illuminated the closet, showing Ezio's slightly scared face. I smirked.

"Don't worry, it won't hurt you."

"What is that?" Fear was replaced by curiosity.

"It's a lighter-"

"What?"

"It…it makes fire," I replied, remembering that he'd have no idea what the hell a lighter was. "There's a bit of fuel in there and it makes sparks," I quickly added. The last thing I needed was him thinking I was a witch or something and calling me to be burned at the stake. "Now shut up and let me concentrate," I added. I moved, having to turn side ways to face the door so that my shoulders were pressed between Ezio and the wall. I then sunk down into an very uncomfortable crouch and set to work on the lock.

"Who makes locks like that on closets?" I asked in frustration. It had two triggers inside. "It's a small empty cupboard no one ever uses!"

"Don't ask me, ask the architect."

"Shut up," I snapped. I was now in an even worse mood, because his... ahem, upper leg was now in my shoulder. Ew.

"Are you about done?" he seemed to notice the close proximity I had with his family jewels too, and he was getting nervous, all for a good reason.

"Almost- There!" I turned the knob and nearly fell out of the closet, stepping outside and stretching with a groan of relief. Ah, beautiful light. I missed you so.

Ezio stepped out after me, looking ruffled. He looked at my sincerely happy expression and seemed so surprised to find me actually content after nearly an hour (at least it felt like it) of sitting in the closet with him. Then he finally snapped, "We are to never speak of this again."

"Speak of what now?" I raised an eyebrow, tucking away my lighter and lock pick away in their original places. When I straightened out, I smiled brightly at his grumpy expression. "Trust me, I got about as much pleasure out of that as you did."

He glowered at me and my smile faded, for some reason my temper flaring. "Fine. Be that way." I snapped, turning and storming away.

When I was outside again, I took a deep breath of fresh air. That was a nice change after a dusty cupboard and him.

Well that was...interesting?

Ezio ran a hand through his still slightly damp hair in thought and loathing for the demon that was Eden. Oh, the irony of her name. Meant to symbolize perfection, peace and beauty when really, she was a horrible, mean, sadistic witch. He loathed her nearly as much as as Vieri. Not because she wasn't an enemy, but rather an ally who he couldn't get rid of. He hated her because he was raised as a gentleman and unable to physically harm her, even when he really wanted to. Even if it seemed like her life's desire to drive him completely insane.

And most of all, he hated the fact that her smell was still lingering in his nose. He despised the fact that he was a young man in a close encounter with a young woman. The only thing that reminded him who she was in the darkness was the way she insulted him every time she opened her mouth, more than usual due to her very bad mood.

Damn her. Damn the bloody closet, damn the stupid lock, damn her warm scent...of cherries and apples.

He breathed in deeply, trying to get the smell out of his nose. He'll have to burn this shirt, it seemed. Right now, he needed to go and find himself a distraction and a bit of rest.

He wondered absently if there was a brothel anywhere around town.