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Roma, 1502
They were all at dinner when Ezio returned.
Instantly, all of the recruits dropped their conversations in favour of greeting him. Amongst all the pleasant, happy calls was Machiavelli, stewing over his dinner with that usual displeased look. Ezio smiled, amused, before greeting all his recruits. There was a shuffle as everyone budged down the table to make extra room for him at its head, and he sat down to join them. Stefano disappeared to the kitchen to get another plate.
"Good," Ezio said, "I'm famished."
"You're a day late," Machiavelli said.
"Ahh, Machiavelli," Ezio said. "My apologies. I had an unfortunate run-in with the Borgia guards on my way back into Rome. I decided to take a detour to destroy their tower."
"While you were doing that, I was stuck waiting here," Machiavelli replied.
"I trust the recruits did not make your life difficult," Ezio said, glancing around the table.
A half-dozen smiling faces greeted him.
"No, Messere Ezio. I'm afraid we simply bored him," Luca replied. "He wasn't content with the contents of the library."
"Is that so? Did nothing interest you?" Ezio glanced to his friend, just as Stefano returned with his dinner. "Ah, bene. Grazie mille, Stefano."
"They're getting rather outdated," Machiavelli replied. "It is less that and more these recruits of yours being a rowdy bunch. It's difficult to write with that much drink being passed around."
Ezio turned to look at his recruits. A few of the recruits glanced between themselves, determinedly avoiding Ezio's gaze. He looked back to Machiavelli.
"How much drink?"
"Ask them yourself."
Ezio glanced back to the recruits, who were all fussing over their dinners.
"To be fair," Anneta piped up, "Bastiano and Paolo returned from Moscow. They succeeded, despite... difficulties."
Bastiano and Paolo didn't look impressed. Anneta shrugged, popping a piece of bread in her mouth.
"Tell me later," Ezio interjected, and then glanced back to Machiavelli. "My friend, there is precious little to celebrate these days. As long as they carry out their work and don't sleep too late, they are permitted to drink." He paused. "I certainly did, when I was their age."
Machiavelli just scoffed.
They were all at dinner when Ezio returned.
Instantly, all of the recruits dropped their conversations in favour of greeting him. Amongst all the pleasant, happy calls was Machiavelli, stewing over his dinner with that usual displeased look. Ezio smiled, amused, before greeting all his recruits. There was a shuffle as everyone budged down the table to make extra room for him at its head, and he sat down to join them. Stefano disappeared to the kitchen to get another plate.
"Good," Ezio said, "I'm famished."
"You're a day late," Machiavelli said.
"Ahh, Machiavelli," Ezio said. "My apologies. I had an unfortunate run-in with the Borgia guards on my way back into Rome. I decided to take a detour to destroy their tower."
"While you were doing that, I was stuck waiting here," Machiavelli replied.
"I trust the recruits did not make your life difficult," Ezio said, glancing around the table.
A half-dozen smiling faces greeted him.
"No, Messere Ezio. I'm afraid we simply bored him," Luca replied. "He wasn't content with the contents of the library."
"Is that so? Did nothing interest you?" Ezio glanced to his friend, just as Stefano returned with his dinner. "Ah, bene. Grazie mille, Stefano."
"They're getting rather outdated," Machiavelli replied. "It is less that and more these recruits of yours being a rowdy bunch. It's difficult to write with that much drink being passed around."
Ezio turned to look at his recruits. A few of the recruits glanced between themselves, determinedly avoiding Ezio's gaze. He looked back to Machiavelli.
"How much drink?"
"Ask them yourself."
Ezio glanced back to the recruits, who were all fussing over their dinners.
"To be fair," Anneta piped up, "Bastiano and Paolo returned from Moscow. They succeeded, despite... difficulties."
Bastiano and Paolo didn't look impressed. Anneta shrugged, popping a piece of bread in her mouth.
"Tell me later," Ezio interjected, and then glanced back to Machiavelli. "My friend, there is precious little to celebrate these days. As long as they carry out their work and don't sleep too late, they are permitted to drink." He paused. "I certainly did, when I was their age."
Machiavelli just scoffed.