The night air was crisp as Ezio lowered himself onto a roof, careful not to knock any shingles or stones off of it. Venezia was beautiful during the night, with the torches on the streets lit imitating the water reflecting the stars. It was something that Ezio could never see back in Firenze, of course, but that didn't mean he wasn't at least a little homesick. He did, in fact, miss Firenze more than he probably should have, but the comfortable life of being a noble and able to stay home and relax was far gone.
He let out a sigh, his hood falling back onto his shoulders, hair revealed, wet and gleaming in the faint light of the moon after his weekly self-washing (Leonardo had gotten him into the habit of bathing much more often than the rest of society, but he still didn't have the time to bathe as often as his friend). Normally, after bathing, Ezio would lay on Leonardo's rug beside his fire, warming and drying himself as his friend toiled with something or another, and he'd even try to catch up on some sleep at the same time.
This night, however, everything seemed different. It seemed important.
A stranger, hopping from roof to roof in black robes caught Ezio's eyes – he wouldn't have seen the man if not for the red sash around his waist, and perhaps that's what it was there for. Metal glinted on the stranger's wrists and Ezio's first thought was that he must be an assassin. Those thoughts were reinforced by the hood he saw, peaked like an eagle's face, hiding the man's face from view, even as he got closer.
For some reason, Ezio didn't feel this man was dangerous.
It was silent save for the rush of water in the canals as the man made his way closer, closer, and then finally next to Ezio himself. The stranger's mouth was shown under his hood, a cropped beard outlining it, face tilted up in a smirk.
"A fine night, isn't it?" The man had a Florentine accent.
"Si," Ezio replied, leaning back, "I only wish that things could stay this peaceful."
"Eventually," The man responded with a chuckle, hands moving to pull his hood back, revealing hair cropped and pushed back, and a face worn with age and marred by scars, though one in particular caught Ezio's eyes.
"We have the same scar, messere." He pointed out, tapping his lip. The elder man smirked once more.
"That we do. We will share many scars, you and I."
"What do you mean?"
The elder assassin was about to respond when a familiar voice shouted, "Ezio!" and both turned to look, seeing Leonardo standing below.
"Ezio, it's getting so very late. Why don't you bring your friend and come get warm by my fireplace? It's no good if you get ill."
Ezio glanced to the elder, who nodded once.
"I would enjoy that."