Giovanni didn’t hover. No, the young man was glued to him. It didn’t agitate him…no. Ezio discovered that he found it…comforting. Giovanni quickly learned the administrative duties that came with being the master assassin and worked with him. And they worked so well together it was as if they had been doing it for ages.
Like how he would sort and deliver the incoming messages and missions. Make sure that enough supplies were stored in the hideout or distributing them as to allies. Things of that sort. He’d even quietly take over writing when Ezio’s hand would hurt.
“I didn’t know you could write…” Ezio observed when Giovanni had first offered to do so after his hand had tired from balancing accounts. He was standing next to his chair, staring at the neat handwriting. He immediately regretted his observation. How stupid was he!? He had seen Giovanni reading books from the library or taking notes, of course he could read and write!
Giovanni had taken it with a smile. “I started learning before I came here…” He trailed off, looking out the window as unbidden of times with his blood family, the Borgia, came to mind. He shook them off and looked back. “When Dad noticed, he made sure I continued. Maybe he knew it’d help you one day?”
Ezio laughed as he ruffled Giovanni’s hair. “Then I will have to find Francesco and thank him. I don’t think you could have a better father than him.”
“Unfortunately…I am not quite so good with all this adding.” He shyly smiled up at him. “But you’ll make sure I do it correctly, right?”
“Of course. I’ve never forgotten the banking that my father taught me.” He pulled up a chair flush against Giovanni’s. He would have rather sat in one chair and worked with the young man on his lap, but he knew how easy it was for someone to come into his ‘office’ nowadays.
“Ezio.” Well, speaking of the devil. Ezio told an amount for Giovanni to write before looking up to Machiavelli. The man only ten years his junior immediately launched into accounts he was receiving of rivalry starting to appear between some group of mercenaries and a handful of assassins. Ezio knew it was a mix of trying to get the assassins to cooperate, to not have rivalries, which he half found odd since last he remembered Machiavelli didn’t like mercenaries very much himself. There were several other problems he half listened to, but it was hard to concentrate when a certain someone’s foot was slowly rubbing along the back of his calf.
“Giovanni.” Machiavelli eventually turned to the young man, and his eyes narrowed imperceptibly.
“Si, Consigliere?” Giovanni looked up respectfully after he had been addressed. However, under the table his foot didn’t stop rubbing.
“Once you are done assisting Il Mentore with this task you can go back to your missions. I’ve done up a rotation who will assist you, Ezio, until your arm is healed.”
Giovanni slowly set his pen down. “I don’t hope to come across as rude, or as an undoer of your work, Consigliere, but I would rather stay with the Maestro.” Realizing such phrasing required explanation, he quickly added. “Since I have been working and learning how to help the Maestro for several days now-“
Impervious Fragility 9/?
Like how he would sort and deliver the incoming messages and missions. Make sure that enough supplies were stored in the hideout or distributing them as to allies. Things of that sort. He’d even quietly take over writing when Ezio’s hand would hurt.
“I didn’t know you could write…” Ezio observed when Giovanni had first offered to do so after his hand had tired from balancing accounts. He was standing next to his chair, staring at the neat handwriting. He immediately regretted his observation. How stupid was he!? He had seen Giovanni reading books from the library or taking notes, of course he could read and write!
Giovanni had taken it with a smile. “I started learning before I came here…” He trailed off, looking out the window as unbidden of times with his blood family, the Borgia, came to mind. He shook them off and looked back. “When Dad noticed, he made sure I continued. Maybe he knew it’d help you one day?”
Ezio laughed as he ruffled Giovanni’s hair. “Then I will have to find Francesco and thank him. I don’t think you could have a better father than him.”
“Unfortunately…I am not quite so good with all this adding.” He shyly smiled up at him. “But you’ll make sure I do it correctly, right?”
“Of course. I’ve never forgotten the banking that my father taught me.” He pulled up a chair flush against Giovanni’s. He would have rather sat in one chair and worked with the young man on his lap, but he knew how easy it was for someone to come into his ‘office’ nowadays.
“Ezio.” Well, speaking of the devil. Ezio told an amount for Giovanni to write before looking up to Machiavelli. The man only ten years his junior immediately launched into accounts he was receiving of rivalry starting to appear between some group of mercenaries and a handful of assassins. Ezio knew it was a mix of trying to get the assassins to cooperate, to not have rivalries, which he half found odd since last he remembered Machiavelli didn’t like mercenaries very much himself. There were several other problems he half listened to, but it was hard to concentrate when a certain someone’s foot was slowly rubbing along the back of his calf.
“Giovanni.” Machiavelli eventually turned to the young man, and his eyes narrowed imperceptibly.
“Si, Consigliere?” Giovanni looked up respectfully after he had been addressed. However, under the table his foot didn’t stop rubbing.
“Once you are done assisting Il Mentore with this task you can go back to your missions. I’ve done up a rotation who will assist you, Ezio, until your arm is healed.”
Giovanni slowly set his pen down. “I don’t hope to come across as rude, or as an undoer of your work, Consigliere, but I would rather stay with the Maestro.” Realizing such phrasing required explanation, he quickly added. “Since I have been working and learning how to help the Maestro for several days now-“