#lecredo

[fortrivmph]

"do not put me in a situation. i am at my limit and very tired."

"You're an idiot." It popped right out, but Haytham didn't regret it, because it was true. Hauling Arno under one arm ( and noting with some frustration that it wasn't as easy as once it had been to just manhandle another person; his shoulder and hip both protested loudly ), he began ramming his way through the crowd, unafraid to use Dorian as a club to shove people aside. "You put yourself in a situation. I'm getting you out." True, he had given Arno the tip-off as to where to find Germain's agent, but that didn't make him responsible for the mission going tits-up.

[fortrivmph]

by all means, stay in this cozy little coffin. but i have to go now.

"You'll carry it with you." Haytham was intimidating on a good day. Somehow, this man had dragged himself through the whole of the Revolution, destroyed his own Rite, opened his throat on an Assassin's blade of his own volition, lived, sewn it up again, and stumbled across the sea to throw himself into the next political disaster that captured his fancy. He moved as one already dead, but that didn't stop him from besting Arno with the sword, or leaping about the Paris rooftops with an ease that had the entire Brotherhood squirming. And that was out in the daylight. Here in the catacombs, surrounded by carefully-arranged bones, he seemed every inch the creature Bellec had made him out to be. He, like Arno, seemed to take comfort in the silence. Nestled between two skulls, he stared out at the Assassin with glinting eyes and an expression that was difficult to parse. Was that judgment, or understanding? "I see you come down here all the time," he continued, his voice less resonant than it had been ten years ago. "You like it as much as I do. Let's not pretend we don't both know why."