Leonardo and Ezio paused and turned to look in the direction of his assistant. Ezio seemed to be studying him, looking past him to see his true motives. So then, he would let him. The man looked foreboding and intimidating in the shadowed firelight even with his hood off, but Salai didn’t care. Ezio was human, so Ezio could be defeated.
“Why are you so excited that some animal was killed to create boots?”
He tilted his head and acted genuinely confused. Inside, he was dancing with victory as he felt Ezio send a glare that would have most of Hell running—but he wasn’t nicknamed “Salai” for nothing. He could almost hear the trap close as Leonardo thought.
“I… I had not thought of that. I do not generally think after receiving a gift.”
Leonardo’s face twisted up as he ran his fingers over the pelt. Salai tried not to laugh at the irritated look Ezio gave him.
“Then, perhaps he should take it back?”
The artist said distantly, “No, I will keep it: it would make a fine set of boots. I had not thought of it that way. Perhaps for you? Oh dear, I had not… Oh my, Ezio…”
Ezio sighed and rubbed his forehead, muttering curses under his breath. Leonardo smiled at him softly and placed a hand on the assassin’s shoulder.
“Salai, it is well into early morning. You should get some sleep. We all should,” Ezio growled.
Salai nodded and bowed. “I am sorry for interrupting, maestro, but I simply could not sleep when I heard conversation. I will leave you two.”
He turned around and exited the room, and as he glanced back over his shoulder, he could have sworn he saw Ezio pulling Leonardo in for a kiss. The fight was on, and Salai would not lose.
He was out of the house the next morning before Leonardo was awake. And when Leonardo did wake and begin looking for that wonderful piece of hide Ezio had given him—Heaven forbid he lost it: he was always careful with what Ezio gave him—he started searching frantically.
“My God, surely I—No, I put it—”
“Leonardo, what are you looking for?”
He stopped the hectic shuffling through his piles of sketches to stare at the handsome man. Without the armor and the weapons (all safely stored in his room so Salai couldn’t get to it), he seemed almost naked—breathtakingly beautiful, indeed Leonardo thought, but with just his shirt and pants, Ezio seemed naked.
“Your hide. I lost that beautiful hide you gave me just last night!”
The forty-year-old man chuckled and walked over, pulling Leonardo into an early morning hug. “Did you ever consider your assistant stole it?”
Leonardo hugged back lightly, resting his forehead on Ezio’s shoulder and murmuring, “I do not want to believe it.”
Ezio hugged him tightly. “You are too nice. He has stolen from you all nine years he has lived here.”
Leonardo sagged in his arms. “I know. But the boy—he has potential. And he is such a joy to paint.”
Ezio scowled at those words but hugged him regardless. After a few minutes, Leonardo straightened, and he let go. Leonardo smiled at the assassin. “Well, there is work to be done. Are you leaving—”
He held up a hand for silence. “I have decided to retire to the desk. My body cannot handle the same strain as it did before, and now I can rest with Cesare dead.”
Leonardo stared at him, shocked. “You—but—assassinations are—”
Ezio smiled softly. “They are the past. If you do not mind me—”
Leonardo smiled warmly, his eyes lighting up with child-like splendor. “No! No! You are always welcome to live here!” He hugged the assassin tightly. “Never think otherwise! Oh, this is wonderful! No more worrying about whether or not you will return! And won’t Salai be relieved!”
Ezio pried the artist off and looked him in the eye. “Salai will not receive this well. He hates me, Leonardo, and always has.”
Leonardo laughed. “I am sure you are mistaken. The boy is greedy and a thief, but he is not bad. Breakfast?”
Ezio gave him a concerned look. “Leonardo, you need to…” The words died in his throat as he stared at the artist’s happy look. He nodded with a sigh.
“Please. It would be nice.”
And as Leonardo rushed off to fix a breakfast for them, he could only think about how ugly this was going to get.
Re: Dead Cows... Oh Really, Leonardo?
Leonardo and Ezio paused and turned to look in the direction of his assistant. Ezio seemed to be studying him, looking past him to see his true motives. So then, he would let him. The man looked foreboding and intimidating in the shadowed firelight even with his hood off, but Salai didn’t care. Ezio was human, so Ezio could be defeated.
“Why are you so excited that some animal was killed to create boots?”
He tilted his head and acted genuinely confused. Inside, he was dancing with victory as he felt Ezio send a glare that would have most of Hell running—but he wasn’t nicknamed “Salai” for nothing. He could almost hear the trap close as Leonardo thought.
“I… I had not thought of that. I do not generally think after receiving a gift.”
Leonardo’s face twisted up as he ran his fingers over the pelt. Salai tried not to laugh at the irritated look Ezio gave him.
“Then, perhaps he should take it back?”
The artist said distantly, “No, I will keep it: it would make a fine set of boots. I had not thought of it that way. Perhaps for you? Oh dear, I had not… Oh my, Ezio…”
Ezio sighed and rubbed his forehead, muttering curses under his breath. Leonardo smiled at him softly and placed a hand on the assassin’s shoulder.
“Salai, it is well into early morning. You should get some sleep. We all should,” Ezio growled.
Salai nodded and bowed. “I am sorry for interrupting, maestro, but I simply could not sleep when I heard conversation. I will leave you two.”
He turned around and exited the room, and as he glanced back over his shoulder, he could have sworn he saw Ezio pulling Leonardo in for a kiss. The fight was on, and Salai would not lose.
He was out of the house the next morning before Leonardo was awake. And when Leonardo did wake and begin looking for that wonderful piece of hide Ezio had given him—Heaven forbid he lost it: he was always careful with what Ezio gave him—he started searching frantically.
“My God, surely I—No, I put it—”
“Leonardo, what are you looking for?”
He stopped the hectic shuffling through his piles of sketches to stare at the handsome man. Without the armor and the weapons (all safely stored in his room so Salai couldn’t get to it), he seemed almost naked—breathtakingly beautiful, indeed Leonardo thought, but with just his shirt and pants, Ezio seemed naked.
“Your hide. I lost that beautiful hide you gave me just last night!”
The forty-year-old man chuckled and walked over, pulling Leonardo into an early morning hug. “Did you ever consider your assistant stole it?”
Leonardo hugged back lightly, resting his forehead on Ezio’s shoulder and murmuring, “I do not want to believe it.”
Ezio hugged him tightly. “You are too nice. He has stolen from you all nine years he has lived here.”
Leonardo sagged in his arms. “I know. But the boy—he has potential. And he is such a joy to paint.”
Ezio scowled at those words but hugged him regardless. After a few minutes, Leonardo straightened, and he let go. Leonardo smiled at the assassin. “Well, there is work to be done. Are you leaving—”
He held up a hand for silence. “I have decided to retire to the desk. My body cannot handle the same strain as it did before, and now I can rest with Cesare dead.”
Leonardo stared at him, shocked. “You—but—assassinations are—”
Ezio smiled softly. “They are the past. If you do not mind me—”
Leonardo smiled warmly, his eyes lighting up with child-like splendor. “No! No! You are always welcome to live here!” He hugged the assassin tightly. “Never think otherwise! Oh, this is wonderful! No more worrying about whether or not you will return! And won’t Salai be relieved!”
Ezio pried the artist off and looked him in the eye. “Salai will not receive this well. He hates me, Leonardo, and always has.”
Leonardo laughed. “I am sure you are mistaken. The boy is greedy and a thief, but he is not bad. Breakfast?”
Ezio gave him a concerned look. “Leonardo, you need to…” The words died in his throat as he stared at the artist’s happy look. He nodded with a sigh.
“Please. It would be nice.”
And as Leonardo rushed off to fix a breakfast for them, he could only think about how ugly this was going to get.