closed.
Characters: Altair ibn La-Ahad and Count D.
Location: Murder Manor, D's room.
Rating: PG, maybe?
Time: 5pm on the 26th.
Description: D was a charitable soul, and Altair has to snoop out why.
In Altair's self-defensive reasoning, it was very good bread.
Very, very good bread, and a very, very startling surprise. He had avoided his assigned apartment for as long as he could, sleeping instead on rooftops or abandoned balconies, but it had grown far too cold outside to justify such a thing against 'the apartments are often under threat.' So he had taken to actually returning to the apartments proper, settling into a bare-bones room to sleep and taking off as quickly as possible once the sun was up again.
And yet, still, someone had found him.
That someone, he was to find, was the odd personage of D -- too much smiling and too accepting and too weird were Altair's principle classifications of the man, but that he'd tracked Altair's apartment... Well. It gave Altair the right to track back, he thought. And that was how and why he ended up dropping to the cold cement of D's own balcony, swinging in from the outcropped ledge with his hood up and (fairly torn, now, since he wasn't so good at sewing and Death City's buildings were very spiky) old armor in place. There was maybe a breath of hesitation outside the balcony door, but Altair wouldn't say such a thing occurred; the day was already drawing toward a close, and here he was, outside of D's balcony, leaning in close to get a look. There was a figure on the couch.
(And maybe he also had a bagged up gift in one of his many hidden pockets, but he was ... awkward about it, to say the least, and so it wouldn't be thought of right now.)
He contemplated just walking in, but Kamui had taught him better than that. Plus, he knew for a fact that the Count would be home, and... Okay, maybe D also deserved a bit more politeness than having someone just barge in.
So. He knocked once.
....
And if D didn't answer within five seconds, all of those thoughts that were dangerously close to respect (which Altair's ego wasn't going to take well) would be gone and the assassin would indeed be picking the lock. But, well. Five seconds was long enough, right?
Location: Murder Manor, D's room.
Rating: PG, maybe?
Time: 5pm on the 26th.
Description: D was a charitable soul, and Altair has to snoop out why.
In Altair's self-defensive reasoning, it was very good bread.
Very, very good bread, and a very, very startling surprise. He had avoided his assigned apartment for as long as he could, sleeping instead on rooftops or abandoned balconies, but it had grown far too cold outside to justify such a thing against 'the apartments are often under threat.' So he had taken to actually returning to the apartments proper, settling into a bare-bones room to sleep and taking off as quickly as possible once the sun was up again.
And yet, still, someone had found him.
That someone, he was to find, was the odd personage of D -- too much smiling and too accepting and too weird were Altair's principle classifications of the man, but that he'd tracked Altair's apartment... Well. It gave Altair the right to track back, he thought. And that was how and why he ended up dropping to the cold cement of D's own balcony, swinging in from the outcropped ledge with his hood up and (fairly torn, now, since he wasn't so good at sewing and Death City's buildings were very spiky) old armor in place. There was maybe a breath of hesitation outside the balcony door, but Altair wouldn't say such a thing occurred; the day was already drawing toward a close, and here he was, outside of D's balcony, leaning in close to get a look. There was a figure on the couch.
(And maybe he also had a bagged up gift in one of his many hidden pockets, but he was ... awkward about it, to say the least, and so it wouldn't be thought of right now.)
He contemplated just walking in, but Kamui had taught him better than that. Plus, he knew for a fact that the Count would be home, and... Okay, maybe D also deserved a bit more politeness than having someone just barge in.
So. He knocked once.
....
And if D didn't answer within five seconds, all of those thoughts that were dangerously close to respect (which Altair's ego wasn't going to take well) would be gone and the assassin would indeed be picking the lock. But, well. Five seconds was long enough, right?