The Eagle and The Rat [Arno Victor Dorain]

X - Moitié Vérité, Moitié Paix

"Holy shit," Sylvestre said, as Maxime slid down her mask, "what happened?" He sat across her with slightly wide eyes and a twinge of a frown on his face.

She took a sip of the water in front of her, using the cup to cover up her nose. "Don't act like you care."

"Oh, I most certainly do," he announced, his frown becoming a grin, "I need to ask how exactly whoever did that to you did it. Master Bellec, you must be aware that you are a hard Assassin to punch. Congratulations are in order."

Rolling her eyes, she set down her cup with a little more force than what was required. Even in a revolution, Sylvestre never changed.

The two sat in a bar, hidden in a dark corner that faced the door where they had the best view of all the other patrons. Usually, she wouldn't allow such a public display of the two of them, but seeing as he had information she wanted and information she didn't want him to have, she had to agree to his stipulations about where to meet.

"If you wanted to see me hurt, you could have done it yourself," she muttered, "I don't have all day, so get on with it."

"My dear Assassin," he teased, "I've just sat down. You can't spare me a moment to relieve myself of my harsh working conditions?"

"You have a more stable and higher salary than everyone in this room combined."

"But away from you," he added, "how is a man to survive in such conditions?"

"I hope I wasn't who you had in mind to help you relieve yourself."

Finally, Sylvestre ceased in his talking. He tried to glare at her, but there was little malice or conviction behind his green eyes. "What a terrible idea."

"Exactly. So let's stop with this foreplay and do want we came here to do," she said, sliding over to him a scroll hidden under her plate of bread and jam, "business."

Arno listened from his corner of the bar, his hood down and his ponytail tied into a bun. He suspected that Maxime already knew he was watching her, but even so, he tried to be cautious, which is why he was looking towards the door and not her, waiting for his accomplice.

Axel entered soon after. His beige hood bellowed on his shoulders, his white button-up struggling a bit to hide all that muscle. Arno really didn't understand why Axel carried that axe around. It was weighty and hard to swing repeatedly as battle had one do. Of course, Maxime had an answer, her viking heritage jumping out at his complaints: what good is your opponents' weapon when you can hook and reel it out of their hands?

Axel pulled his hood down as he sat down beside his friend. "You better be right about this," he said, "I don't feel like losing a bet to Horace."

"As opposed to losing a bet to me?"

"Horace doesn't need another thing to inflate his ego," he snickered, "and Max could have hers deflated a bit, too."

At that Arno also laughed a bit, pulling friend slightly closer. "And finding her Templar lover would do just that, wouldn't it?"

Sure, bringing Axel into his blackmailing plan for Maxime wasn't the smartest idea, but if he was going to make this work, he needed someone of a higher rank than himself to verify his claims if he should ever bring them to the Council. Horace wouldn't bite, and Pierre was an obvious no, so Axel was his only option. Of course, he didn't know why Arno was doing all this.

"That I don't buy," he replied, "people who don't put the Creed first don't become Master Assassins."

Arno used his cup to tilt the face of his friend to the corner in which the two sat. "Is that why she's sitting next to one over there?"