closed.

[jumpingbird]

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.

Comments

[cake_and_dreams]

The problem with being the city's gardener meant that there wasn't very much to do when winter storms came calling. Really, it was the last thing D had suspected, and when, the snow melted, it would be great for the ground. That didn't mean it had been easy taking care of the plants in the meantime. Not many of them were likely to survive, it seemed, and that saddened him, a little.

Now, finally, he was home from work and warming his hands with a cup tea. The 5:00 news was on, the apartment was slightly more cleared of boxes of furniture (thanks to his dear detective's handy assembling abilities), and Leon wouldn't be home from work for at least another hour. Clearly, now was the best time to relax.

The knock on the balcony door startled him. D blinked, tilted his head slightly, and called out, "Just a moment!" He hadn't been expecting any visitors, least of all ones that would use the balcony as a door.

The Count sat down his teacup and stood, wandering who it might be as he approached. Just in case it was some odd sort of ruse, D peeked through the curtains before pulling open the door.

"Ah, hello," he greeted cheerfully, smiling as though he'd expected the visit even though he hadn't.

[jumpingbird]

The sound beyond had been muffled, but not distorted enough that Altair couldn't recognize it. It still bothered him a bit, that English seemed so natural - but now wasn't the time to whine, and he abandned his attempts to jiggle the door lock undone in order to stop back; to be a good few feet away when D did open that door.

But once that smiling face and cheery "hello!" appeared, Altair realized he'd stepped back onto the most unfamiliar territory possible.

And how did he act hen he wasn't certain?

... Like an arrogant prat, really. (D had to be a saint in the making for this.)

"Hello." He'd brush past the other as though he'd been invited in, eyes immediately rooming everywhere. And while most of the furniture boxes had been put away, those that were left made him stop and somehow shock the arrogance right out of him, if only for a second. Now he was just confused. "You truly built beds here?" That - wasn't supposed to have been as much of a question as it was.

[cake_and_dreams]

In an effort to be friendly, D let the poor etiquette go. It was clear they were from different times (after all, surely anybody now would know about furniture that required assembly at home), and, therefore, different rules were needed. He followed the other man in and closed the door behind them to keep out the awful cold.

If it hadn't been so obvious that Altair had never heard of such a thing in his life, D would have laughed. Instead, he kept a patient smile as he came up beside the man and responded.

"Yes. We found some of the furniture that came with the apartment wasn't really to our tastes, so we picked out some new items and Leon kindly assembled them." Well, most of them. His dear detective had some more work ahead of him tonight.

[jumpingbird]

Maybe D should've laughed, because then it'd at least have kept Altair from staring, absolutely puzzled, at both the remaining boxes and the set up furniture. It shouldn't have been that big of a shocker, really, but it was - different. Odd. And so it did take him a second or two to finally shake himself out of it, to move even deeper into the apartment and subconsciously start edging toward the wall. He had nothing to be afraid of, but it was just habit.

What else was habit was turning his face so that D would get the angle of his hood, but probably catch nothing more than his mouth in profile (which should've been a funny image, too, but, well.

"... Did he use that as part of a 'Christmas gift?'" And, wow, talk about awkward. But Altair was trying to be a sport about it, all actual questions and polite(ish) interest rather than demand-- which probably just made him seem even more hilarious.

In his head, it was also a good starting point to getting to talk about why D had left that food outside his room. Which made him clever, obviously.

[cake_and_dreams]

Perfectly calmly, as though his guest weren't behaving in any sort of way that a civilized person might consider odd, D moved into the kitchen. Just because this was an odd occurrence didn't excuse him from remembering his manners, after all. The water from the tea was still warm, after all, and since Altair was on his turf, it was D's responsibility to be sure he was comfortable and had enough to drink.

"Not at all," D responded. They'd exchanged gifts of their own, after all. "Would you care for some tea?" he asked.

The question was polite, but moot. D had already grabbed a proper teacup and had already begun pouring it. Altair didn't look like the sort of man that would be fond of the amount of sugar in his tea that D was accustomed to, so he left it unflavored as he offered the cup to the man.

[jumpingbird]

Well, Altair supposed that was a good thing. What was really a good thing, though, was that faint aroma of tea that hadn't been brewed straight from a paper bag. Altair had never been much of a tea fan, that was true, but after trying soda (which made his throat feel like he'd swallowed boiling water) and lemonade (sour), tea sounded... okay.

"What sort?" He inclined his head in a simple nod, hesitating only a second before reaching out to take hold of the cup. It looked good. It smelled good.

Vaguely, Altair wondered if D always worked in the kitchen, if he always had something edible prepared.

[cake_and_dreams]

Altair accepting the cup had been a bit of a surprise. D hadn't fully expected him to take it. "It is Rou Gui, a type of Oolong tea from China. It's tastes a bit like cinnamon, if you've ever had that before."

D wondered if Altair ever had tasted anything of the sort before. To D, who had been eating sweets his whole life, cinnamon was a common thing, but something he was fond of. Altair didn't seem to be aware of what sort of modern commodities or food were, so who knew how well he would take to this?

There was, of course, only one way to find out.

"Give it a try," he gently encouraged. If Altair didn't like, he could always brew him something else instead.

[jumpingbird]

Cinnamon. Thoughts of bickering merchants and snippets of Crusader talk on the myths of where the spice came from had Altair grinning in what could have passably been called amusement, and while there could've been a worry over whether or not the cup was poisoned...

Altair wasn't yet that paranoid.

"I've had cinnamon before." Dismissive, but the casualness of the whole situation was still striking. One small sip -- and under his hood, his eyebrows shot up. Surprisingly, his voice didn't hold a trace of suspicion or even caution (score ten for your prowess at charming the jumpy, D). "Is it made of actual the actual spice? It tastes..."

Oolong. Altair drank tea, sure, but not enough tea to be able to tell anyone what the difference between black or green or oolong or darjeeling or any others were, sadly enough.

[cake_and_dreams]

That was a curious reaction. A grin was something he had never expected to see out of his mysterious guest. Whatever it was that had caused the grin was a mystery to the Count.

At least the other hadn't flat out refused to drink it, claiming poison or some such nonsense. He seemed like the type. "I'm not sure how it is done on this world," D responded, still studying Altair. "I believe the bush it comes from may just happen to have a strikingly similar taste to the spice."

He paused and tilted his head slightly. It was hard to tell if he had enjoyed it or not. "Do you like it?" he asked.

[jumpingbird]

"Hm." The fact that D kept his eyes on him wasn't lost on Altair; he kept himself still (no budging, no giving!), but all of that earlier amusement would be long gone by the time he gave his non-commital hum. He kept quiet as D tilted his head and asked his question -- after a pause, his response would only turn out to be a tight but truthful, "Yes."

And, true to Altair fashion, the yes would have to be enough - further compliments just wouldn't come forth. In reality, it was probably the best cup of tea he'd had since arriving in Death City, but D didn't necessarily need to know that .

Then he was on the move (forever restless), prowling back past D toward the balcony to glance out, walk along the wall. Inspecting.

And, seemingly out of the blue (rude rude so rude--!), he'd ask: "Are you a Christian?"

[cake_and_dreams]

D noticed the stillness. The man seemed to be determined to give nothing at all away - something that was ironically rather noticeable, at least to D. Most people would at least fidget or twitch. It made him curious, if anything, to learn more about this man.

Altair moved past him and D watched, letting him move along the balcony as he wished. It occurred to D that Altair could well be on his way out. He seemed like the sort of person prone to rather spontaneous things, at least. After all, his coming here had been at least a bit of a surprise.

He wasn't expecting to be surprised with such a question.

D's eyes widened just slightly for a split second before he caught himself and got his face back under control. It was a rude question, and modern etiquette dictated that something like that shouldn't be dignified with a response. But Altair didn't follow modern etiquette. It was possible, D figured, he didn't really know any of it.

And so he answered. "No," he said, keeping the answer short and simple. "Why do you ask?"

[jumpingbird]

He'd keep on topic, too, with D being so obliging.

"Why are you giving out gifts in its celebration, if you aren't?" The assassins at Masyaf hadn't cared much about holidays: they certainly weren't 'days off,' and if they did hold special meaning to a certain individual, then that individual could celebrate the event on their own. But the idea of a person celebrating another culture's holiday... It was like trying to imagine a knight participating in Ramadan. In other words, unimaginable.

He supposed it made for a nice gesture (his own gift was a response only to that, and he'd use that as his excuse until his dying day), but... still. It was curious.

And since D had consistently satisfied his curiousity before, why not in this, too?