anachronismo | (no subject)

(no subject)

Even if Stephanie had access to all the paper in Rome, she didn't think she'd have enough room to write down all that sucked. Bathing sucked. The weather sucked. The clothing sucked. The Borgia family sucked. Lack of deodorant sucked. Lack of modern convenience sucked. Oh, what else? Getting a cut on your arm sucked, because then you worried about stitches and sterilization, and when you're pretty much the most medically advanced person in the history of ever (so far, and maybe that was probably an annoyed exaggeration), that meant you fixed yourself up as best you could, put your shirt back on, and went on with your day. That really sucked.

It was embarrassing, too. She was eager to help, eager to commit to Ezio and the Assassins, but not so eager to kill. The extra care it took to not spill blood (and not make it totally obvious what she was doing) cost her bumps and bruises. And this time, some skin and blood. She wasn't sure if she was more worried about the scar or Ezio noticing--if he hadn't already. She'd lost track of how many chats about killing they'd had, both in Rome and in Paradisa.

For now, she sat herself down at the desk and tried to look busy. She could work on other embarrassing things to distract herself from her "scratch"--like her understanding of local geography. Ugh. Rome was fucking confusing, even after all this time. It didn't make sense to her like Gotham had.

Maybe she'd just invent satellite imaging.

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Ezio had been out all night, and even without a wink of sleep, he had to arrange some novices' passages up to Moscow for work. Then, of course, he had to see to it that the defenses were fortified, lest his spies news of Cesare's plan to attack within the next few weeks were true, and touch base with Machiavelli. There were also other recruits to train and welcome back.

And at some point, he also had to eat something and get to sleep.

With a sheaf of papers in hand, he moved to the desk where Stephanie sat, and dropped the stack in front of her.

"I have work for you," he said, almost distracted. "Do not just sit there pretending to work."

"I was studying, thank you very much."

She could be insulted, or she could let it go. Going with the latter seemed to be the wiser option. Act natural. She shuffled through the papers with both arms--even if her right bicep throbbed painfully.

"Anyway, be happy I was easy to find. Welcome back, too." Stephanie gave him a smile while she briefly made sure he was in one piece. While she didn't get as anxious as she did initially when they parted to do their own things, she did worry now and then about him. He was her best friend and her guide here. Doing without would be another for the "Things That Suck" list.

"Everything going alright?" It never hurt to ask, and it gave her time to get a good look at what he wanted. She never really minded getting something to do. Work, no matter what it was, was better than just sitting around and thinking about how much she didn't want to be in Rome.

He gave a grunt of acknowledgement, leaning against the desk and perusing one of the papers. There wasn't usually much paperwork involved in being an Assassin, but when they stole sensitive documents, every page needed to be read, scrutinized and catalogued in their records. That and preserving controversial documents, as well as new scientific documents that were at odds with Borgia politics –– those, most of all, needed to be protected with care.

"It is fine," he replied, after a moment.

Then, satisfied with the paper, he looked to her papers.

"What are you studying?"

Stephanie actually enjoyed the reading, even if she didn't completely comprehend all of it. Of course, she didn't prefer paperwork.

At his question, she smoothed out one of the papers, tapping it with her index finger. "Maps. I'd like to get more familiar with the layout of the entire city, not just be really comfortable in a few areas and kinda-okay in others."

She felt like she should already know this. Maybe she should. Then again, she thinks, there's probably a book of things she should have picked up by now.

"Trying to catch up, but it's surprising how little time you have between trying to liberate a city and catching up on everything else, too."

"You have lived in Roma longer than I have," he reminded her. "If you are ever chased by Borgia guards, they could trap you if you did not know the proper path to take. Forget everything you ever learned about the inter-met or whatever it is you use to look up directions and learn to remember directions with your eyes, Stephanie."

A bit harsh, perhaps, but it was out of concern. The last thing Ezio wanted was for his favourite novice to get wasted by the Borgia over something as small as directions.

"Perhaps we should remove you from the field so that you have more time to focus on your studies."

"Which is exactly why I'm spending my time on this," she replied, with just the tiniest hint of agitation seeping through. "I've never really gone sight-seeing here, you know. The abbey, this island, and wherever you send me is what I know. I'm filling in the gaps."

She knew Gotham like the back of her hand. That didn't serve any use to her at all now, but she was determined to know Rome like that, too. Before Ezio arrived, she didn't have much motivation.

The moment the word remove left Ezio's mouth, Stephanie was pushing herself to her feet. That came with the tiniest of grimaces, but it wasn't enough to stop her exasperation. "No. Don't you dare. Do you want me to go crazy?"

He sighed, rubbing his temples with his free hand. As much as he adored her, the one thing he never had patience for was belligerence, no matter how much he'd inflicted it upon others in his youth... no matter how he still wielded it against Machiavelli and his other partners.

"Do not argue with me," he replied. "You do not know the streets as well as you should, you are behind in your studies, and you need to rest that arm."

She couldn't think he wouldn't have noticed, or hear it from one of her brothers or sisters. Nothing happened in the field without his knowledge.

She opened her mouth, and then shut it as she clamped her hand over her arm. It wasn't a surprise that he knew, but she was feeling indignant and him using her arm as an argument didn't help.

"My arm is fine," she said, walking around to the other side of the desk. Sure, some antibiotics would be nice just in case, but she was pretty sure she'd live. "I don't know if you noticed, but I've been genuinely happy out there. This is me being the happiest ever, here. I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing, I'm helping, and I stay happy. Sitting at a desk? Not being allowed to do that? Not happy."

Standing in front of him, she looked him in the eyes. "Please. I'll find the time to study more, but taking me off the field will do way more harm than good."

She was willing to break out the pretty please if necessary.

"I know it makes you happy, dolcezza," he replied, taking on a bit softer tone and reaching to touch her face. "But I am only looking out for your safety."

Alright, so he was a sucker for the women in his life, and Stephanie –– his lost American lamb –– often needed to be placated more than the rest, considering her terrible predicament. It was easy to forget that she came from a land of blinking lights and lightning power and cloud-like beds, and that she was so prone to these fits of unhappiness.

No one in his position put much stock in happiness, after all. Not with work to do.

"You will thank me for it. Now, let me see that arm."

"I know you are, but my safety isn't what you need to worry about," she sighed. Stephanie let his hand brush against her skin, but she didn't lean into the touch. She was upset, and this wasn't over yet. But her eyes went to her arm when he mentioned it again.

"It's nothing, just a scratch. I took care of it."

She dropped her hand, and the frown on her face deepened. Bright red polka-dots were staining the material of her shirt where her hand had covered. It quickly resumed its position.

"I just need to wrap it again. I'm fine. If I'm on house arrest I can practice sutures, too."

Oh, the sarcasm.

On the contrary, he thought –– her safety is what he needed to worry about most.

He took her arm in hand, peering at the wound with a growing frown. It didn't look infected, but it didn't look good, either. His free hand went to his belt and he touched his coin purse to check that he had coin on him, and the telltale feel of metal inside confirmed it.

"I do not like how it looks," he replied. "I want to take you to the dottore."

"Oh, no. Keep your freaky doctors away from me. I don't need leeches and dirt rubbed into it, I just need to tighten the bandages."

Renaissance medicine was something she wanted to stay far, far away from. But she doubted he'd just let her go on her merry way with it looking like that.

"It's hard to do that with one hand. You can help me."

Ezio shook his head.

"I have been seeing doctors my entire life, Stephanie," he said. "It is a cut. You need stitches and something to protect it from harm. There will be no dirt nor leeches."

She watched his face, finding it almost funny that it felt like their positions would be reversed, not too long ago. When did he become the concerned, mature one?

"I can do those things," she insisted. "I trust me way more than your doctors. I just need an extra hand. I see you've got two of them."

"I am not doing stitches," Ezio argued, but he wasn't about to forcibly drag her to the doctor, either. He shook his head and sighed, and then relented.

"We will send for another novice girl. She will have a finer stitch than you or I."

Good enough.

"Fine." Attitude, Stephanie. She closed her eyes to reel it in, exhaling slowly. "... sorry. I don't mean to be a pain in the ass. I know you're busy."

She felt bad enough on most days, knowing he had to juggle her on top of everything else. She needed the extra attention, the extra help. She was the one always finding something to argue about. Not that she necessarily felt she was wrong, but she did feel guilty for adding more stress to his plate.

At least on the field, she felt like she was making up for it.

"Sit," he told her, moving away to pull out the chair from behind the desk. Not that there was anything wrong with her legs, but he'd prefer it if they could sit to discuss the matters of business and being a "pain in the ass."

She sat, though with a look of reluctance. It felt like she was about to get lectured by the principal.

"Sitting."

He kneeled down in front of her, one hand on her knee.

"Listen," he said, trying to be both firm and sympathetic at once. "Do you remember what it was like to be teaching me about your time, even when I had been in Paradisa for over a year? What kind of troubles I ran into with people and society because I did not know how to behave amongst another culture? You had a lot of patience for me, and I am trying to show you the same courtesy... but you must trust me when I tell you what the right course of action is."

"I remember." There was no way she'd forget. She thought about those times a lot, missing them. She missed feeling confident and comfortable and knowledgeable.

She put her hand over his.

"It's just difficult. Not the trusting you part, I trust you, but the whole... not belonging, part. At least in Paradisa you had people from your time, or from times like yours. I don't have that, and it really, really sucks sometimes," Stephanie sighed, shaking her head and looking down at their hands. "You remember how restless you felt, right? Not being able to do anything? That's how I feel."

"They could be out there," Ezio reminded her, quietly. "So you need not lose hope on that, yet. But in the mean time, you would fit in better if you did not eschew our culture and customs. If I say you cannot dine with the men, then you should not fuss. If I want you to study as a civilian for a time instead of doing work as an Assassin, then you should study. If I want you to see a dottore, you should go. I am trying to make it easier for you to fit in!"

"So... I just shut up and do as you command. That's my life, now."

She didn't sound thrilled.

"That is not what I said," Ezio replied. "I just would not see you alienate yourself by protesting so vehemently to these things."

She let go of his hand to pinch the bridge of her nose, frustrated. Had he felt like this in Paradisa? Did he feel suffocated? No, probably not, because even with the restlessness he felt, Paradisa was a vacation. There was fun there. Rome? Not so much. Not that she had found, anyway.

A part of her wanted to argue and fight, but the words just weren't forming. So, she just sighed, shaking her head again.

"I'll try."

"Thank you."

He took her hand and kissed it, gently. He was trying not to let the Borgia consume him completely. He still had to care for the people around him.

"I am doing my best to look out for you, Stephanie."