Escorting jobs were horrific, at best.

Altair ignored the whining man trailing behind him, gesturing at the "monstrosities" of the poor district. He even stopped to gawp at a body that the guards had discarded on the floor, and Altair had to stalk back and drag him away. What he didn't see couldn't hurt him. And now? He had somehow managed to swat a thug in the face with his flailing hand.

Altair rounded on the petty robber, even as he towered above the assassin. Altair gripped the leather arm guards around his charge's wrist and tugged him so he slightly stood behind the master assassin. His steel eyes didn't seem to affect the stocky assailant, who broke into a greasy smirk and wrenched him forwards by the collar of his hood. Altair had other ideas though, and didn't really have the time to dance with the fools of the city. Sadly, his way of disbanding thugs was rather illegal.

The guards howled jibes behind him as he ran, charge in tow through Acre streets.

His companion's angry yelling was the most dominant noise in his ears, though. "How irresponsible," "you're supposed to be a master assassin!" and other things laced themselves amongst the hubbub of the city folk. Altair didn't care. He bolted around an alley corner, eager eyes drinking in the surroundings. A relatively short alleyway with a rather short back wall, a melee of beams sticking out of the walls like teeth. With a easy yell he threw the other man up onto a beam protruding from the alley wall, the small man hung over it like a child over their fathers knee. Altair turned on the guards, and with a similarly easy movement, drew his sword.

With a gargled yelp –muffled by the collar of his tunic when it jarred painfully into his teeth- was hefted up onto the beam alongside the mouthy bastard. Still insulting him and ignoring the pelt of stones across the stone slabs of the building. With a strained grunt he wrenched the now seething dai's chest onto his shoulder and simply hauled them both over the short wall. The shorter man yelled, but the landing was soft enough. Altair aimed well, and they landed in the haystack beyond the short back wall of the alley, the gate to the cemetery looming a few yards away.

The guards' yells and attempts at coaxing out their prey were futile and vain, they realised this before they left to bother citizens and drink the city's alcohol preserves dry. Altair finally hissed out his anger and propped himself up on his hands, rage contorted face an arms length from Malik's, own sheepish one. Altair growled.

"Dumbass."

"Well, we didn't get hurt, so that's okay. Right?"

"Only because of my superior skills at covering the landscape."

"Running like a girl you mean."

"A sexy beast of a girl, yeah."

Malik laughed, letting his head hit the wooden bottom of the wagon, ignoring the hay digging into his ear.

It was barely a moment, but it was enough.

They were students again, hiding from Master Sadiq. He wanted them to join in with the other novices swim lessons. Malik had run with him. They hadn't the time to save Kadar-

"I know what you're thinking. And you need to shut up."

The moment was lost amongst Solomon's Temple.

"You're mind reading creeps me out more every day, Mal."

"Yes well. Your love for illustrated books creeps me out, Altair."

"You're just sore that I like their pictures better than I like your maps."

"It takes a master to make a map. Never forget that."

"In that respect, we might finally agree."

"Don't look at me like that when we are in a haystack, novice."

"Then don't poke me when we are in a haystack, Dai."

"You are insufferable."

"And yet you suffer me. My luck knows no bounds."

"Oh shut up and get your pants off before I leave you here."

"What about-"

"Fuck the appointment. The Dai of Acre is a stuffy old fool. He won't die of old age if we make him wait a few moments. Especially if you adhere to tradition."

"That. Was a low blow."

"Punny guy."

"You love it."

xxx

It was always amazing to see Malik talk his way out of things. The assassin figured it to be witchcraft. Whenever he was late, he usually got a boot to the head; even if it was by an hour. Malik never explained how he managed to explain being three days late and missing a boot.