So I decided to be evil and mess with Malik :D I wonder how difficult it was to get use to only having one arm?

Altaïr expertly climbed down into the bureau courtyard sending several surprised birds to the sky. The assassin stretched leisurely, it had been a long trip from Masyaf and Altaïr was glad to be on his feet again.

A sound from within the bureau caught his attention. Grunts and growls followed by a thump.

"Fuck!"

Curious, Altaïr edged around the corner and took a peek. What he found almost made him laugh. Malik stood leaned up against the counter, struggling with the ties on his pants. His one hand fumbled as he desperately tried to tie them.

Altaïr must have made a sound because Malik looked up with his usual scowl.

"Do you need something or are you just going to gawk?" he demanded.

Altaïr forced down a laugh and smiled smugly at Malik. He leaned on the door frame and crossed his arms.

"Having trouble, Malik?" he inquired teasingly.

The rafiq gave him a dangerous glare. "If you are only here to mock me then get out of my bureau!" Malik yelled. He looked back down to his work. Malik wrapped one tie around his index finger and tried to stick the other through the loop with his thumb. This failed as the ties fell from his hand and Malik let out another frustrated growl. He threw up his hand only to bring it crashing back down as a fist on the counter.

Altaïr's shoulders slouched and he dragged himself fully into the bureau. His face softened and he spoke in a kinder tone.

"Would you like some help, brother?"

Malik gave him a venomous look. "No. I do not need nor want your assistance, novice!" he hissed to the other.

The assassin took another few steps forward until he was an arms length from Malik. "Malik, would you please let me help?" his voice lowering further.

The former assassin let out a huff and looked away.

"...Fine..." Malik mumbled begrudgingly.

Taking the assent in stride, Altaïr knelt down before Malik. His nimble fingers easily moved over the strings and tied them together.

"Uh...?" Altaïr's and Malik's heads both snapped around to the voice.

In the doorway of the bureau a novice stood uncertainly. His wide eyes and slightly parted mouth showed his shock.

The two older men froze under the gaze of the boy. Altaïr's hands still holding the tie of Malik's pants.

Malik's face burned bright red with embarrassment. "This is not what it looks like." he insisted and shoved Altaïr away. The master assassin fell back and caught himself on his hands. Malik strode forward to the novice.

"Why are you here?"

"I...uh...b-brought your uh...feathers. The ones you asked for..." the novice stumbled on his words. His bright eyes darted between Malik and Altaïr and his cheeks tinged pink.

"Yes, thank you." Malik snatched away the small box that the boy held. "Now leave." He waved a dismissive hand.

The novice hesitated for a moment, still unsure. His eyes wandered back to Malik and he jumped as he once again saw the furious look upon his face. With a brief bow he scurried up and out of the bureau.

Malik ran his hand over his still burning face. He released a groan. Finally opening his eyes he looked back to Altaïr.

The man hadn't moved from the spot that Malik had pushed him to. His shoulders shook and his mouth twisted in a suppressed grin. Unable to hold it in any longer Altaïr burst out laughing. He rolled onto his side and clutched his stomach. The rafiq snarled angrily and stormed past, giving him a sharp kick in the back as he did so.

"You are unbelievable! That is the last time I let you help me." Malik declared.

"But...but...it-he..." Altaïr tried to speak but couldn't between guffaws. He wiped tears from his face and pushed himself upward. "You should have seen your face!"

"I hope you drown." was Malik's dark reply.