@fcrgiven
He’d only been gone a month, yet it felt like a year. The moment Talon had returned to Noxus, had received payment - he felt his life go slightly bleaker. The mystery of his time in Ionia, of the strange swordsman that had saved his life... it was all so intriguing, and while he yearned to speak to someone of it, Talon was glad he did not... because the next target on the list he’d be given sank a spear straight into his heart. A heart that, he had always questioned if he had ever truly had. For a week, the assassin had dragged his feet on departing Noxus again. Talon never asked ‘why’ for most of his targets, but this time he did - much to the chagrin of the military. He’d been aware that Yasuo had obviously some sort of battle prowess, simply by spending a brief amount of time with the man. But this... enough to later earn the ire of his Noxian employers? The universe was interested in playing another cruel joke on him. He never hesitated, never questioned what he was doing to who, and yet this time... this time Talon let that weight settle on his shoulders. He owed Yasuo a life debt. A blood debt. A kindness for a kindness. That kindness was not murder. He could kill him gently, swiftly, completely painless. Perhaps he wouldn’t know... but Talon knew better. So he resigned himself to his fate. He would see the man again, and make his decision later on. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Talon wondered if this one, tiny choice hadn’t just completely derailed the path of his entire life. --------------------------------- Yasuo was surprisingly difficult to track, as if he were a man that didn’t particularly enjoy being followed. It took Talon more than a few weeks to locate the man, in which time he’d managed to pilfer one of his storage units where he could dress in more Ionian style garb, as opposed to his sinister Noxian attire. He blended in better now, and with that had continued his prying search until finally, finally he’d located the next inn the other was staying at. But at that time... Talon had realized he had no real plan. And Talon Du Couteau did not improvise. There was a first time for everything. There was no need to even go inside, to feign patronage or ask for assistance. He’d earlier located the swordsman room (some spy techniques were simple, like looking in the damn window), and with the ease of someone who had very obviously intruded on the regular, slid inside his room and braced himself for any sort of repercussion. Talon’s eyes adjusted quickly to the dark, as well as the sparse furnishings. No sword left behind, nothing to suggest he would return soon, so the assassin sighed, looking between the bed, and the dark corners. Did he want to risk Yasuo reflexively attempting to take his head off or- Bed it was. Feeling distinctly comical, if not a little amused with himself, he removes his deep red scarf, most (but not all) of his knives, and shoes before climbing onto the cool sheets, stretching out on his back... and waiting.