And then Vidic decided to say hello. After a managing a ridiculously rushed, heart-pounding, teeth-gritting escape, Lucy grimly told Desmond they had to up the hours inside the animus. "We can't let them get the Apple," she explained, her eyes pained.
She didn't have to, really. Desmond understood.
It was obvious what this was doing to him, everyone could see. From morning till night he'd be strapped in -- he'd wake up alternatively craving food or feeling nauseated by it, and he was so exhausted he should have fallen asleep in an instant, but his body was far too alert for bed. With Lucy's permission, he would roam the streets of Monteriggioni aimlessly, leaping from building to building like Ezio would have, his deteriorating muscles screaming bloody murder in his veins with every jump.
"Where's the daft child?" Shaun asked Rebecca, one late night. Lucy was busy catching her turn of sleep -- five hours. Up until then he'd been updating the Animus historical database after trying a hand at cracking 16's cryptic messages and failing spectacularly.
"You worried?" Rebecca grinned, elbow deep in the Animus' entrails. It had overheated today because they'd been using it so often, and for so long. "He's out running."
"For your information, I am not worried." Shaun rolled his eyes in irritation. "He hasn't called in for a few minutes, and it's nearing dawn."
"Worry wart," Rebecca hummed cheerfully.
"Bugger off," Shaun hissed, and moodily returned to his typing.
Desmond returned a minutes before his time limit, limping. There were pockets under his eyes, and his face seemed sunken, like someone had sucked the life out of him. He hadn't shaved all day, and there was a good shadow parching his lips and chin, though not about his pale scar.
"Welcome back, you twat," Shaun told him acidly, glasses askew. "Next time, remember to tell us if you're going to be out all bloody night!"
"He was worried," Rebecca said mildly, not looking up from her work.
"I was not!" Shaun snarled, but it hardly mattered. Desmond gave him a blank look, as if he hadn't really heard. He made his way to the animus and collapsed on it, closing his eyes.
"Session doesn't start for another two hours," Rebecca said gently. "Go to bed, Desmond."
"I can sleep while inside the Animus," Desmond said tightly.
"REM doesn't function the same--" Rebecca began.
"Cazzo," Desmond snarled, his eyes aflame. "I'll rest when I'm dead!"
"You bleeding digit!" Shaun yelled, standing up angrily, face red. "Don't you bloody dare yell at Rebecca like that!"
"Shaun, it's fine," Rebecca said, eyes shuttered. She slipped the needle inside his hole-ridden arm, sedating him to unconsciousness for the procedure. "Whatever you say, Desmond."
Desmond's sunken eyes fluttered, and closed, moving rapidly beneath his eyelids, reliving Ezio's every moment. Shaun grit his teeth, torn between a very real worry and a more present anger. He resolved to forget about Desmond, and focused on the database.
It was Rebecca's turn to nap when Desmond twitched and groaned loudly, calling Shaun's attention. Lucy had woken up some time ago to buy food and thus Shaun was the only one available to oversee his progress. Frustrated, he left his desk and loomed over Desmond's scrunched face, observing it in detail. A bad memory? A glance at the animus computer screen showed Ezio had merely fallen off a building (hence the noise), and was now busy running after a target.
But Shaun was disinterested in Ezio's progress, compared to Desmond's physical state.
The man was pale, his features wasted. If Shaun squinted, he could swear he could see the beginnings of a greying patch underneath his thicker fringe -- Desmond's hair was growing out rather awkwardly, what with none of them owning a pair of scissors. His beard was just as scruffy as Ezio's was now, thick and untamed. There were lines that he hadn't seen before on Desmond's face, lines of anger and worry.
"What are we doing to you," Shaun muttered quietly, dismayed.
Fill [2/?]
She didn't have to, really. Desmond understood.
It was obvious what this was doing to him, everyone could see. From morning till night he'd be strapped in -- he'd wake up alternatively craving food or feeling nauseated by it, and he was so exhausted he should have fallen asleep in an instant, but his body was far too alert for bed. With Lucy's permission, he would roam the streets of Monteriggioni aimlessly, leaping from building to building like Ezio would have, his deteriorating muscles screaming bloody murder in his veins with every jump.
"Where's the daft child?" Shaun asked Rebecca, one late night. Lucy was busy catching her turn of sleep -- five hours. Up until then he'd been updating the Animus historical database after trying a hand at cracking 16's cryptic messages and failing spectacularly.
"You worried?" Rebecca grinned, elbow deep in the Animus' entrails. It had overheated today because they'd been using it so often, and for so long. "He's out running."
"For your information, I am not worried." Shaun rolled his eyes in irritation. "He hasn't called in for a few minutes, and it's nearing dawn."
"Worry wart," Rebecca hummed cheerfully.
"Bugger off," Shaun hissed, and moodily returned to his typing.
Desmond returned a minutes before his time limit, limping. There were pockets under his eyes, and his face seemed sunken, like someone had sucked the life out of him. He hadn't shaved all day, and there was a good shadow parching his lips and chin, though not about his pale scar.
"Welcome back, you twat," Shaun told him acidly, glasses askew. "Next time, remember to tell us if you're going to be out all bloody night!"
"He was worried," Rebecca said mildly, not looking up from her work.
"I was not!" Shaun snarled, but it hardly mattered. Desmond gave him a blank look, as if he hadn't really heard. He made his way to the animus and collapsed on it, closing his eyes.
"Session doesn't start for another two hours," Rebecca said gently. "Go to bed, Desmond."
"I can sleep while inside the Animus," Desmond said tightly.
"REM doesn't function the same--" Rebecca began.
"Cazzo," Desmond snarled, his eyes aflame. "I'll rest when I'm dead!"
"You bleeding digit!" Shaun yelled, standing up angrily, face red. "Don't you bloody dare yell at Rebecca like that!"
"Shaun, it's fine," Rebecca said, eyes shuttered. She slipped the needle inside his hole-ridden arm, sedating him to unconsciousness for the procedure. "Whatever you say, Desmond."
Desmond's sunken eyes fluttered, and closed, moving rapidly beneath his eyelids, reliving Ezio's every moment. Shaun grit his teeth, torn between a very real worry and a more present anger. He resolved to forget about Desmond, and focused on the database.
It was Rebecca's turn to nap when Desmond twitched and groaned loudly, calling Shaun's attention. Lucy had woken up some time ago to buy food and thus Shaun was the only one available to oversee his progress. Frustrated, he left his desk and loomed over Desmond's scrunched face, observing it in detail. A bad memory? A glance at the animus computer screen showed Ezio had merely fallen off a building (hence the noise), and was now busy running after a target.
But Shaun was disinterested in Ezio's progress, compared to Desmond's physical state.
The man was pale, his features wasted. If Shaun squinted, he could swear he could see the beginnings of a greying patch underneath his thicker fringe -- Desmond's hair was growing out rather awkwardly, what with none of them owning a pair of scissors. His beard was just as scruffy as Ezio's was now, thick and untamed. There were lines that he hadn't seen before on Desmond's face, lines of anger and worry.
"What are we doing to you," Shaun muttered quietly, dismayed.