paradisa | xxxiv λ borgia games

----- Lucrezia -----

[He's supposed to be a changed man. Supposed to be.

As much as he would like to say his commitment to Lana is wholehearted, it's hard to break old habits, especially when his "habits" have spanned half of his life. Even if he hasn't purposefully broken his promise to Lana, it's hard to deny that there's still a part of him that isn't done being a womanizing scoundrel. He likes the attention too much, and the affection, and the companionship.

While he adores Lana and wants to do right by her, he's also tired of spending so much time meeting his own "needs"... not that he blames her, but after a year of booty calls, weekend marathons, copious amounts of exploration, and a lot of personal boundaries pushed, it's a little strange to go from the wildest year of his life to celibacy in a dedicated relationship, even if most of his ladies were understanding.

All of that would be bearable if it weren't for Lucrezia nipping at his heels.

He spends plenty of hours hemming and hawing over his previous encounter with her, and then he gets up and heads down the stairs of their tower, from his room to hers. He knocks, tersely.]

Lucrezia.

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That no longer depends on me.

It would depend on Cesare, then.

You are learning fast, Auditore.

You think I did not know that already?

I see no reason to intermediate now.

You always have, ensuring we have no reason to go for each other's throats.

Then not anymore. [ She thinks she's only been protecting Ezio's throat so far. ]

Will he try to kill me?

Does he have reason to?

Are you going to give him one?

If I have not already.

That is cryptic.

It is not to my benefit to be forthcoming.

So I have noticed.

Is it true then?

You are making choices for your own good, these days, instead of leaving your safety in the hands of others.

[ She nods, not entirely happy about that. ]

This I leave to my brother.

I will speak to him, then.

So you will.

[ She reaches for her book again, an illuminated copy of Ovid's Amores. ]

On my part, I would only ask you to read poetry over this dinner.

[He looks to the book.]

Oh? And why is that?

To keep you from arguing with Cesare.

So if my mouth is occupied long enough, I will not be able to antagonize him.

One can hope. Are boys taught to squabble at every chance given?

In boys it is squabbling, as men are bred to war with another.

Are you to war against my brother?

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