So I was browsing around and foudn this excellent piece of artwork that fit too well to not share: http://doubleleaf.deviantart.com/gallery/?offset=24#/d49r5k7
I'm also thinking I'll update this once every 2 weeks -- maybe one every week if I write fast enough.
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"Hellooo!" Desmond called, rapping on the door for the third time in as many minutes. No reply this time, either. He glanced down at his watch and frowned. He didn't really have time to stand here and hope that whoever had ordered this pizza was actually here, but he wasn't about to leave, either. Not for the first time that week he grumbled about his lack of a cellphone, then lifted his hand to try again, pounding on the door this time. "Helloooo--" Then the door abruptly sung open, and Desmond just barely caught himself before he brought his fist down on a blue-eyed, blond-haired man wearing a red beret and a puzzled expression.
Said man did not seem particularly alarmed that a stranger carrying a pizza box had nearly hit him. "Ah-- yes?"
Desmond blinked, but lowered his hand. At least the guy wasn't mad. He presented the box. "Pizza."
But the man shook his head, sand-colored hair swaying. "I did not order anything."
Great. "Mrs... Uh." Desmond dug a hand into his pocket, silently cursing whoever it was that had written down the apartment number. "Gallo doesn't live here?"
"No, but--" The man brightened. "I can show you where she lives." He stepped out into the hallway, not even waiting for Desmond to confirm that he needed help. "This happens quite often," he babbled, turning to lock his apartment door behind him. "I should have realized right away--" He stopped, suddenly, blinking as he turned from his door. Then he smiled. "Ah, Ezio!"
Desmond froze. This couldn't... no. Not again. Desmond slowly started to turn around. Maybe it was a different Ezio...?
But no, it was the exact same one that had paid for a pizza he hadn't ordered only hours ago. And Machiavelli was still with him. Damnit!
"Don't you guys sleep?" Desmond quipped dryly. Sure, it was only 11ish, but Desmond felt that he question was a valid one. He knew that Ezio hadn't followed him on purpose, but he was getting annoyed at his apparent inability to live his life in peace. Ezio and Machiavelli exchanged a glance, Ezio looking a little uncertain and Machiavelli looking unimpressed. The two men drew to a stop and remained silent. Desmond had time to notice they were carrying several boxes between the two of them before the silence was suddenly broken.
"You two know each other?" The blond man stepped forward and around Desmond as he spoke, looking inquisitive and uncertain. Mostly inquisitive, though.
"Yes," Ezio replied, right as Desmond said, "Not in public." The two exchanged a glance and silence fell again. Machiavelli wasn't smiling, which wasn't a surprise, but neither was Ezio, something Desmond had learned to be wary of. The blond man whose evening he had interrupted remained quiet and frowning, looking back and forth between Desmond and Ezio.
Delivery - Part 2 (1/?)
I'm also thinking I'll update this once every 2 weeks -- maybe one every week if I write fast enough.
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"Hellooo!" Desmond called, rapping on the door for the third time in as many minutes. No reply this time, either. He glanced down at his watch and frowned. He didn't really have time to stand here and hope that whoever had ordered this pizza was actually here, but he wasn't about to leave, either. Not for the first time that week he grumbled about his lack of a cellphone, then lifted his hand to try again, pounding on the door this time. "Helloooo--" Then the door abruptly sung open, and Desmond just barely caught himself before he brought his fist down on a blue-eyed, blond-haired man wearing a red beret and a puzzled expression.
Said man did not seem particularly alarmed that a stranger carrying a pizza box had nearly hit him. "Ah-- yes?"
Desmond blinked, but lowered his hand. At least the guy wasn't mad. He presented the box. "Pizza."
But the man shook his head, sand-colored hair swaying. "I did not order anything."
Great. "Mrs... Uh." Desmond dug a hand into his pocket, silently cursing whoever it was that had written down the apartment number. "Gallo doesn't live here?"
"No, but--" The man brightened. "I can show you where she lives." He stepped out into the hallway, not even waiting for Desmond to confirm that he needed help. "This happens quite often," he babbled, turning to lock his apartment door behind him. "I should have realized right away--" He stopped, suddenly, blinking as he turned from his door. Then he smiled. "Ah, Ezio!"
Desmond froze. This couldn't... no. Not again. Desmond slowly started to turn around. Maybe it was a different Ezio...?
But no, it was the exact same one that had paid for a pizza he hadn't ordered only hours ago. And Machiavelli was still with him. Damnit!
"Don't you guys sleep?" Desmond quipped dryly. Sure, it was only 11ish, but Desmond felt that he question was a valid one. He knew that Ezio hadn't followed him on purpose, but he was getting annoyed at his apparent inability to live his life in peace. Ezio and Machiavelli exchanged a glance, Ezio looking a little uncertain and Machiavelli looking unimpressed. The two men drew to a stop and remained silent. Desmond had time to notice they were carrying several boxes between the two of them before the silence was suddenly broken.
"You two know each other?" The blond man stepped forward and around Desmond as he spoke, looking inquisitive and uncertain. Mostly inquisitive, though.
"Yes," Ezio replied, right as Desmond said, "Not in public." The two exchanged a glance and silence fell again. Machiavelli wasn't smiling, which wasn't a surprise, but neither was Ezio, something Desmond had learned to be wary of. The blond man whose evening he had interrupted remained quiet and frowning, looking back and forth between Desmond and Ezio.