"Give it a week," he says, just a little bit challenging, and he feels her up over her suit -- this is very different, and he's certainly a lot bulkier himself with that heavy belt buckle and sword belt and all those layers.
"Yours," Ezio replies. He thinks. He'd been a little more focused on her, anyway, which he is now, too, even though his stomach is starting to growl. He may simply decide to live off eating pussy.
"Definitely didn't ask that, and I can wait to eat," she grins. "I'm just saying, whatever we do, we need to go forward. We'll get trapped if we go back. Again."
Oh, she'd love to spend all day in his room, but Future Stephanie with a hunger headache won't appreciate it.
He laughs; he doesnβt mind, heβs a slow start anyway but he is good with endurance and tight corners. Ezio runs after her. Thereβs a thrill in figuring they wonβt turn a corner and run into someone, or break their stride for anything but their destination.
Sheβs damn quick, though. Lighter, is his excuse.
It feels a bit like breaking the rules on a school campus, somehow. It's all fun and games and Steph keeps the lead she sneakily took by charging ahead, but the speed leaves her once her feet hit the floor of the lobby and she stops a good twelve feet from the kitchen doors.
She thinks about that skeleton upstairs.
"Maybe a real race, later," she says, only needing a moment to catch her breath and lifting her hand to make sure he doesn't decide to barrel on in. "Let's be careful. Gentlemen first."
He mightβve just gone for it if she hadnβt raised a hand, but he stops behind her when she does. Quite tightly behind her, too, nearly enough to bump her, but he just touches a hand to her lower back, rounds her and goes on ahead at a walk.
βCareful,β he agrees, and he strolls in anyway, hands at his sides in case he needs his blades for some reason.
Steph expected a lot of things, but a stench that nearly knocks her on her ass is not one of them.
"Oh, ugh," she chokes out, covering her nose. It's stuffy and smells like a fridge that hasn't been cleaned out in forever. She supposes that might come from the fridge, door cracked open, and she bravely trudges forward to slam it shut. It doesn't help much, but it gives her some peace of mind that nothing is going to crawl out.
"It's like a tomb of rotten lunch meat."
She has no idea if the smell indicates a time frame or if the doors did indeed seal this place like a tomb.
And there's the poor microwave, scorched, and some long dried goop seeping out from under the door. Why did people always do that?
Ezio is no stranger to crypts and tombs, where even if the bodies are long rotted away, the dark and moist caverns flourish with terrible smells just the same. He wanders through the kitchen and steps into the pantry, finding it somewhat similar, with loafs of bread so far past moulding that they've hardened over like stone. When he steps back out, he looks at the microwave and doesn't even recognize it for a moment.
And then, dawning realization: "Oh. The micro-round."
There are cans, at least, on the counter. Steph grabs one of the smaller ones--tomato paste?--and gives it a shake. She frowns, looking at them.
"Well... we've got some food. Canned stuff lasts forever, right? Whoever was in here last didn't like vegetables or strange canned meats. And blew up the microwave, probably."
"Microwave," he repeats. He will forget again soon, because he never uses the thing. He possibly blew it up himself once by leaving a spoon in a mug. He will remember the arcing lightning, at least.
He joins her at the counter to inspect what she's found. Canned food is preserved, to his knowledge, but he has never been certain of how long. He sorts through them and decides:
"Oh, I'll eat that," Stephanie says, serious. A staple of her childhood. "But hey, this is a good sign! There's stuff here. Nothing fresh, but stuff..."
She trails off as she opens cabinets, wandering away some.
"There's some dried beans... a jar of pickles? Does that even keep that long? Vinegar, right? Gross."
More of a question to herself than him. She doesn't expect an answer, so she asks him a better question.
"Do you think the city is better or worse than this?"
βVinegar is good, it will preserve food longer β something you and I are in dire need of,β he replies anyway. βThe city may be better. Often it was not impacted at all by the Castleβs nonsense, wasnβt it?β
It's so unsexy, Stephanie has completely forgotten their previous shenanigans.
"Right. Guess we'll mosey on down to the city and see the damage. We can leave this stuff here, and depending on which place is better stocked, figure out where to bunker down until we figure out... where to go."
She pats her stomach.
"I can wait a while longer to eat. This smell killed my appetite."
Mosey? Ezio nods anyway; he gets it. He will eat canned goods if it comes to it, but he's not particularly enthused at the idea, so he can only hope that there will be better options in the city. If there isn't the canned goods will only stave off the inevitable, so there'll be some need to venture out anyway.
He has very vague memories of the world beyond. Maybe something can be found out there.
"We will need to find candles or something to make a torch, too," he remarks. "The castle does not have enough windows... it will be very dark when night falls."
"You're right," she mutters, taking his hand so they can at least get out of the awful smelling kitchen. It's not ideal, but things are, so far, better than she thought they might be.
"I'm hoping the dark doesn't draw out anything unpleasant."
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He could distract her from starving to death.
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"We can go back to the room, or go down to the kitchen... or I can have you in the kitchen."
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"Not the room. The kitchen." She tips her head to kiss him. "I think we're both hungry."
Ahem.
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Oh, she'd love to spend all day in his room, but Future Stephanie with a hunger headache won't appreciate it.
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βLetβs check the kitchen then so we can focus.β
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Which means she's power walking down the damn stairs. Keep up, Ezio.
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βRace you there?β
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"I thought saying that would be too immature, but... don't think I'll take it easy on you just because we fooled around!"
Which is her accepting the challenge, if her taking off like someone left the oven on is any indication.
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Sheβs damn quick, though. Lighter, is his excuse.
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She thinks about that skeleton upstairs.
"Maybe a real race, later," she says, only needing a moment to catch her breath and lifting her hand to make sure he doesn't decide to barrel on in. "Let's be careful. Gentlemen first."
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βCareful,β he agrees, and he strolls in anyway, hands at his sides in case he needs his blades for some reason.
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"Oh, ugh," she chokes out, covering her nose. It's stuffy and smells like a fridge that hasn't been cleaned out in forever. She supposes that might come from the fridge, door cracked open, and she bravely trudges forward to slam it shut. It doesn't help much, but it gives her some peace of mind that nothing is going to crawl out.
"It's like a tomb of rotten lunch meat."
She has no idea if the smell indicates a time frame or if the doors did indeed seal this place like a tomb.
And there's the poor microwave, scorched, and some long dried goop seeping out from under the door. Why did people always do that?
"Someone blew that thing up for the last time..."
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And then, dawning realization: "Oh. The micro-round."
He makes a little spinning gesture with a finger.
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"Micro-wave. Close."
There are cans, at least, on the counter. Steph grabs one of the smaller ones--tomato paste?--and gives it a shake. She frowns, looking at them.
"Well... we've got some food. Canned stuff lasts forever, right? Whoever was in here last didn't like vegetables or strange canned meats. And blew up the microwave, probably."
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He joins her at the counter to inspect what she's found. Canned food is preserved, to his knowledge, but he has never been certain of how long. He sorts through them and decides:
"I will starve before I eat this."
Canned ravioli. Not Italian at all.
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She trails off as she opens cabinets, wandering away some.
"There's some dried beans... a jar of pickles? Does that even keep that long? Vinegar, right? Gross."
More of a question to herself than him. She doesn't expect an answer, so she asks him a better question.
"Do you think the city is better or worse than this?"
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This place is very unsexy, he decides.
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"Right. Guess we'll mosey on down to the city and see the damage. We can leave this stuff here, and depending on which place is better stocked, figure out where to bunker down until we figure out... where to go."
She pats her stomach.
"I can wait a while longer to eat. This smell killed my appetite."
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He has very vague memories of the world beyond. Maybe something can be found out there.
"We will need to find candles or something to make a torch, too," he remarks. "The castle does not have enough windows... it will be very dark when night falls."
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"I'm hoping the dark doesn't draw out anything unpleasant."
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guess who can still spell monteriggioni on first try? this gal.
winner of the assassin's creed spelling contest 2020
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comment 666 yee
that assassin devil fellow
he's wicked
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"ezio i had the strangest dream you were a chick"
βWas she hot?β
"in a slightly scary way so yeah"
βNiceβ
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