"Good thing you didn't know you'd run into me. Pretty sure you would have, then. Right?" Gently, she elbows his side, laughing. Albeit a little forced.
What are the chances of this turning into a two person nudist colony? Nudist... castle?
"If I had known it was you? I would not have a stitch on me. It would only be fitting," he chuckled. He ran a knuckle up her side, teasingly. "I forgot what this skin looked like." Skin? He doesn't remember what it's called. "You may as well be naked, too."
"Suit," she corrects. "You--" Got used to it, after a time. Right? Maybe. It's another thing that strikes her as strange. She could have seen him yesterday, or she could have seen him much longer ago. It's gnawing at her that she can't remember.
"Nevermind. We'll see if you have something I can borrow so you're less distracted."
He laughs. He could have not pointed it out at all, and spent the day admiring her, but he isn't going to push it. Ezio respects the friendship line wherever he can –– where his being a man allows, of course. And he could get used to her suit again, given enough time.
"I'm sure I do."
Plenty of ladies leaving things on his floor, after all. He thinks so, anyway. Didn't he have notches here, or something? Perhaps that was his imagination.
There are a few names on the tip of her tongue, but she stops in the middle of the hall for a moment. Well, that's an unpleasant surge of jealousy that feels remarkably like pulling some stitches.
He, unfortunately, will never forget his own tastes. He stops with her, still with that impish grin plastered on his face, waiting for her to take a dig, but there she goes, dismissing him again. He doesn't mind. He's almost never minded.
Everything may feel confusing, and his memory hazy, but the one thing that hasn't changed is being so drawn to her.
"Bossy," he remarks, but he slips his hand into hers to take her up to his room, which draws ever-closer.
"Duh," she replies, grip on his hand probably a little tighter than necessary. She's quiet for the rest of the journey, head on a swivel, looking at door after door. Nothing here looks touched.
When they reach his door, she stares at it for a long moment.
It is eerily quiet. How long ago was it that people ran screaming through it, breaking elevators and setting things on fire and climbing up the walls? Those things happened, didn't they?
"That you did," he said, opening the door with little fanfare and tugging her through.
His room is, to his knowledge, the same as it's always been. Furnishings in the style of his home, save the confusing little anachronistic touches. A coffee maker. A plastic binder. There are jeans in the wardrobe, too, which he goes to and begins rummaging through, looking for any saved girls' clothes.
"It feels like it. You know, familiar," she tells him, stepping in and sitting in a spot she's certain she sat a hundred times before. She looks around, much like she'd been looking around the halls. At least she feels safer in here.
"You know that feeling, when you've left something flammable going? I have that feeling. I just can't remember what, when, or where."
"Well, this castle is made of stone, and it is very large," Ezio says, and he pulls clothes out by the stack to better sort through them. Is that a red lacy thong hanging out the side of the drawer now? Whoops. He tucks it back in and goes back to rifling. "If it is on fire, then we will have plenty of time to find out."
He eventually produces a woman's dress, which is loose but very, very short.
"When have I ever worn anything like that?" Never. "I know you didn't forget that about me. Put that in the maybe pile for if you find some shorts to go with it."
It'd be nice if she could just wish up something like she'd typically wear. Or could remember her damn room.
More rummaging. Some things do have memories attached, obscure but meaningful in some way. Sixteen, he thinks. He bedded sixteen women in the castle alone — maybe seventeen if he included that one regrettable morning, but Paradisa’s meddling shouldn’t count.
“I don’t think I saw women who wore shorts. Unless...”
He makes a gesture along his upper thigh, almost right at the hip. Short shorts.
“Terrible waste of such shapely legs,” Ezio replies, teasing, but he produces both of those. They can always break into someone else’s room later and see if there’s nicer clothing to be looted. If not... “Are you any good at sewing, dolcezza?”
"I thought the point was to hide the shapely legs," she mutters. "And yeah, I can sew, but I'm not committed to sitting around and doing that all day when we have a whole castle and city to explore."
For now, there's other things to take care of, but she's aware that very soon, she might have nothing left to fill her time but sewing clothes to fit her and talking to Ezio because he's maybe the only other person in this place. Oh, god.
“You can complement them without drawing too much attention,” he advises her, because Ezio apparently knows women, and he certainly knows what it’s like to look at women.
He figures he isn’t going to learn sewing any time soon, so it’s good that she knows, at least. It could come in handy if either of them took a spill, too.
It feels good to be nagged, too. He hums some agreement as he goes to the bathroom to dampen a cloth and clean up.
"Clearly the most pressing matter at hand, here," she says with another eye roll, but maybe it's his way of distracting her from the situation. Or, you know. He's just being Ezio. Hard to say.
Once he's out of sight, she hastily swaps the suit for looking like a potato sack. There's some creative belting here, some thick cuffs rolled, and her boots really do just tie the look together.
"I'm gonna make a big mistake looking out the window, aren't I?" She asks aloud, giving Ezio a moment to either deter her or encourage her on.
He just shakes his head at her, smiling. She can grouse all she wants, but he knows she likes it. Deep down. She's cute even in a potato sack. He finishes scrubbing his feet and sets about getting his boots on, buckling them tight. He doesn't think he's worn these boots in years, maybe, as they're worn in in a way his feet don't initially remember, but they're sturdy for climbing the outer walls of the castle and that's what matters.
"Depends on what you mean by mistake," he murmurs, doing up the last buckle. "If you don't feel comfortable climbing, then don't. I'll go and slip into some rooms and unlock the doors for you."
"I can climb," she reminds him, stepping towards said window, "I just don't wanna look out there and see a sea of zombies."
Overdone. So, so overdone.
Taking a breath, she pushes the curtain aside to peek out. Or, she would, if the glass wasn't foggy with grime. Undoing the latch, she finally pokes her head out to look towards the city.
"... uh, well... creepy, but no zombies that I can see."
No destruction or crumbled buildings that she can see, but the gardeners have clearly taken an extended holiday. She can see overgrown trees, tall grass, and pathways leading towards the town are well overgrown.
He has to remind himself what a zombie is, and he's not sure it comes back entirely right. Corpses that got sick. No, that's not right. Oh well.
He joins her, boxing her in against it with an arm on each side of the window, leaning in over her to follow her gaze out. (Her hair smells nice, by the way.) It looks wild; not entirely unusual to him, as any county road can get that way without care, but it is strange for a place that knew to be so well travelled.
"I didn't mean to say you can't climb," he says, and he gestures for her to scoot. He'll go out first. "You're just nervous. And you use those ropes with the..." Ugh. "Bat hook."
Steph ducks out under his arm so that he can go out first. If they're about to find skeletons in a room, it is probably best he see it first lest she fall off the side of the castle and become one herself.
"I can do it the old fashioned way, don't you worry your pretty little head."
She ignores the part of her that feels like she hasn't properly stretched in a long time.
Ezio chuckles, and he steps up onto the windowsill. With a hand on the top of it, he pivots so he's standing with his back to the precipice -- he can get a good look at the wall and its potential footholds. They're not too bad. There's even a great crack forming up the side of the castle, like there'd been a tremor that the old mortar hadn't quite stood up to. Must be sturdy, though. Very little has fallen. He gestures up at it, not sure if she can crane her neck out far enough to see.
"Our old friend isn't fixing itself up anymore," he remarks, and then he drops very suddenly off the edge, catching himself on the windowsill by his fingers, catching his feet against the brick. He grins at her. "Let's hope I remember what to do if I fall, hmm?"
She listens to Ezio, frowning. No upkeep here. No free stuff. Not good. She wonders if the city has things they might find useful, but to be honest, that place was only ever for the fun illusion of shopping and browsing and pretending to be sort of normal. Now, they might actually need it.
As much as she knows she can trust his skills, he makes her flinch.
"Ha-ha. Funny."
Steph waits for him to move before hoisting herself up and into the window. Admittedly, there's a weakness to her muscles she's not familiar with, the slightest strain under her own weight.
"Oh, yeah. For the record, we're sticking together, okay?"
It makes more sense to check different rooms, but that's how the killer gets you.
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What are the chances of this turning into a two person nudist colony? Nudist... castle?
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"If I had known it was you? I would not have a stitch on me. It would only be fitting," he chuckled. He ran a knuckle up her side, teasingly. "I forgot what this skin looked like." Skin? He doesn't remember what it's called. "You may as well be naked, too."
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"Nevermind. We'll see if you have something I can borrow so you're less distracted."
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He laughs. He could have not pointed it out at all, and spent the day admiring her, but he isn't going to push it. Ezio respects the friendship line wherever he can –– where his being a man allows, of course. And he could get used to her suit again, given enough time.
"I'm sure I do."
Plenty of ladies leaving things on his floor, after all. He thinks so, anyway. Didn't he have notches here, or something? Perhaps that was his imagination.
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"Nothing gross, thanks."
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"Steph... what kind of company do you think I have been keeping?"
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"I don't know. Or remember. So."
She shrugs and rubs her temple.
"Nevermind. Let's hurry it up."
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Everything may feel confusing, and his memory hazy, but the one thing that hasn't changed is being so drawn to her.
"Bossy," he remarks, but he slips his hand into hers to take her up to his room, which draws ever-closer.
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When they reach his door, she stares at it for a long moment.
"Yeah, I remember this."
She visited a lot.
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"That you did," he said, opening the door with little fanfare and tugging her through.
His room is, to his knowledge, the same as it's always been. Furnishings in the style of his home, save the confusing little anachronistic touches. A coffee maker. A plastic binder. There are jeans in the wardrobe, too, which he goes to and begins rummaging through, looking for any saved girls' clothes.
"Make yourself at home."
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"You know that feeling, when you've left something flammable going? I have that feeling. I just can't remember what, when, or where."
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He eventually produces a woman's dress, which is loose but very, very short.
"What about this?"
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It'd be nice if she could just wish up something like she'd typically wear. Or could remember her damn room.
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“No? It was worth a shot.”
More rummaging. Some things do have memories attached, obscure but meaningful in some way. Sixteen, he thinks. He bedded sixteen women in the castle alone — maybe seventeen if he included that one regrettable morning, but Paradisa’s meddling shouldn’t count.
“I don’t think I saw women who wore shorts. Unless...”
He makes a gesture along his upper thigh, almost right at the hip. Short shorts.
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"Jeans and a belt will do, thanks. I can make yours work."
High fashion? Never. But if they're the only two people in the castle, it doesn't really matter, does it?
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For now, there's other things to take care of, but she's aware that very soon, she might have nothing left to fill her time but sewing clothes to fit her and talking to Ezio because he's maybe the only other person in this place. Oh, god.
Her frown deepens as her eyes drift to the floor.
"You should probably go wash your feet."
Gross.
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He figures he isn’t going to learn sewing any time soon, so it’s good that she knows, at least. It could come in handy if either of them took a spill, too.
It feels good to be nagged, too. He hums some agreement as he goes to the bathroom to dampen a cloth and clean up.
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Once he's out of sight, she hastily swaps the suit for looking like a potato sack. There's some creative belting here, some thick cuffs rolled, and her boots really do just tie the look together.
"I'm gonna make a big mistake looking out the window, aren't I?" She asks aloud, giving Ezio a moment to either deter her or encourage her on.
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"Depends on what you mean by mistake," he murmurs, doing up the last buckle. "If you don't feel comfortable climbing, then don't. I'll go and slip into some rooms and unlock the doors for you."
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Overdone. So, so overdone.
Taking a breath, she pushes the curtain aside to peek out. Or, she would, if the glass wasn't foggy with grime. Undoing the latch, she finally pokes her head out to look towards the city.
"... uh, well... creepy, but no zombies that I can see."
No destruction or crumbled buildings that she can see, but the gardeners have clearly taken an extended holiday. She can see overgrown trees, tall grass, and pathways leading towards the town are well overgrown.
"Don't like that."
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He joins her, boxing her in against it with an arm on each side of the window, leaning in over her to follow her gaze out. (Her hair smells nice, by the way.) It looks wild; not entirely unusual to him, as any county road can get that way without care, but it is strange for a place that knew to be so well travelled.
"I didn't mean to say you can't climb," he says, and he gestures for her to scoot. He'll go out first. "You're just nervous. And you use those ropes with the..." Ugh. "Bat hook."
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"I can do it the old fashioned way, don't you worry your pretty little head."
She ignores the part of her that feels like she hasn't properly stretched in a long time.
"Just like the good ol' days, right?"
They did their fair share of running around.
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Ezio chuckles, and he steps up onto the windowsill. With a hand on the top of it, he pivots so he's standing with his back to the precipice -- he can get a good look at the wall and its potential footholds. They're not too bad. There's even a great crack forming up the side of the castle, like there'd been a tremor that the old mortar hadn't quite stood up to. Must be sturdy, though. Very little has fallen. He gestures up at it, not sure if she can crane her neck out far enough to see.
"Our old friend isn't fixing itself up anymore," he remarks, and then he drops very suddenly off the edge, catching himself on the windowsill by his fingers, catching his feet against the brick. He grins at her. "Let's hope I remember what to do if I fall, hmm?"
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She listens to Ezio, frowning. No upkeep here. No free stuff. Not good. She wonders if the city has things they might find useful, but to be honest, that place was only ever for the fun illusion of shopping and browsing and pretending to be sort of normal. Now, they might actually need it.
As much as she knows she can trust his skills, he makes her flinch.
"Ha-ha. Funny."
Steph waits for him to move before hoisting herself up and into the window. Admittedly, there's a weakness to her muscles she's not familiar with, the slightest strain under her own weight.
"Oh, yeah. For the record, we're sticking together, okay?"
It makes more sense to check different rooms, but that's how the killer gets you.
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