[ good morning anatole! beautiful weather, isn't it? perfect for flying, don't you think? the forge certainly thinks so, since it is flyyyyyiiiiiiiiiing-- oh, hello there ground
crackoh, you are not very forgiving or soft at all, ground. well. the sky looks nice and sky-ey, doesn't it? even if you can only see that narrow strip of it above this
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Scusi?
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Who's Skoosy? I'm Asellus.
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Ah-- my apologies.
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... Worse?
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It's not that far.
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How graceless, Ezio.
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... How do you know my name?
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[ well, this IS true. ]
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[ well, the fact that he's a hobag is common knowledge... ]
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Ezio?
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... Sì?
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[Or not ruggedly shaggy.]
Drinking much lately?
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... My apologies, madonna, but you must have me confused with someone else. [ ... you know, that other italian dude in a hood running around on rooftops. ]
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Are you quite all right?
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... I am.
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[...AND YOU LOOKED FAMILIAR, SIR.]
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Oh. [ something like a nervous laugh. ] No, nothing like tha--
[ there's a shout from one of the taller apartment buildings behind him, something along the lines of "oy, get down from there, scorched, 'afore i start usin' you for target practice!" ezio, only recently... recovered(?) from being wanted for murder, starts and whips his head around to look in the direction of the shout, then makes the snap decision that maybe this roof isn't the safest place to be and. um. hops off the edge of the roof.
he lands on the balls of his feet, letting the the shock roll his weight forward and catching the rest of the impact on his palms and the knee he brings into contact with the ground (his boots conveniently include padded leather kneepads, it looks like...). ]
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