Venezia, 1485.


He laughed, leaning back into the couch, arms along the back.

"Go on, then. Seduce me, cucciola mia."

It wouldn't really be a challenge; Ezio was, in the most unflattering terms, easy, and just that he asked undoubtedly meant he was already interested. Adages about horses and water just didn't hold true with him, and if you presented him with an opportunity, he was up to his nose in a heartbeat... or up to something, anyhow. Truthfully, it drove his friends a little crazy –– for all the deadly situations he put himself in, for all the arrows he dodged and swords he ducked under, his penchant for dangerous women was likely going to be the one that got him killed.

He called it worth the risk. Anything was, once you were holding the attention of a beautiful woman.