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Characters: Amon and YOU!
Date: Late noon of March. 4th
Location: Free clinic in the Earth Sector, general area.
Situation: Amon making an effort to not act like Amon and circumstance throwing the attempt back in his face. You just can't take the terrorist out of the man.
Warnings/Rating: Potential for violence and aangst Likewise high risk of puns.

[ In the following few weeks after his unconventional return had become an accepted fact did Amon begin to consider integrating himself into what passed for normal society on Keeliai. There was no denying his old prejudices and mistrust of the general population were ever present. Yet Amon had kept to rumination rather than action and kept others in cold regard. There was little to be won in brash action other than a quick failure and quicker reprimand.

So while he possessed the capacity for violence with no small amount of ambition to create conflict he allowed more pragmatic endeavours to take precedence. It helped that there was no war for him here; no named enemy other than his own listlessness that had begun to eat away at his motivation. And yes, the irony that he was the only bender here was not lost on him.

What had kept him on his feet was the need for a livelihood; which he eventually found in a free clinic in the Earth Sector. Coming from a prodigious line of waterbenders and as someone with extensive knowledge of human anatomy had given him a leg up in his new position even if he rarely, and to his likening, if ever needed to use bloodbending or water healing. Most of his skills were field grade but he had an aptitude for being a healer; himself having tried becoming one in his youth after leaving home only to find it could be applied elsewhere. Namely manipulating the human body and severing the lines of chi that accounted for bending. Not that his over-specialized skill set that won him so much infamy in Republic City would do him any goo here; Amon had to adapt and this clinic was where he eventually found himself for the time being.

The kedan didn't own the clinic; Amon had come to understand it was a branch of Wayne Enterprises catering to both foreigners and kedan who couldn't afford proper healthcare. And even he would admit it was a peaceful profession that offered the chance to keep his head down and under the radar. Most who came thought didn't even mention the mask he was almost never without, thinking it some eccentric choice and nothing more. At least, for a short while.

Never living statically for long, conflict finally arose in earnest sometime that afternoon. Amon had been seeing to a kedan woman who could have passed for normal human save for her faceted red eyes and pearl-coloured skin. A subtle and unavoidable application of bloodbending alleviated problems with her arthritis. When the woman regained her footing Amon was seeing her out safely when the trouble started.

A kedan man with severe, human features and impossibly tall rounded on Amon before he went back into the clinic. Somehow this man knew him, and what he was; apparently word after Tarrlok exposed him spread overtime and into more ears than just the foreigners. An off-duty police officer he picked up somewhere in the midst of this man's vitriolic tirade about foreigners plotting this and foreigners scheming that. It was all very fascinating as it was racist until the man had it in his head to grab Amon tight by the shoulder and start making nebulous threats on both his life, and any place of business owned by these shit-eating foreigners. The man took one swing at Amon when the latter didn't respond that connected with the exposed part of his face, but when he made to hit Amon again...

The kedan hit the sandstone street before he could blink. Amon hauled him back up on his knees where he held him there with one hand gripped the side of the man's face. Amon started to beat the side of the man's face and jaw in and all without a word or sign of emotion. Amon's grip slackened but the kedan couldn't move; his eyes wide and nostrils flaring like a frightened animal with blood pouring down the side of his face. Tired of his fear, Amon then pressed into his blood with a thumb against the kedan's temple; very gentle and hardly a touch at all to an onlooker. What must have been the worst migraine imaginable tore a howl of pain from the man before he crumbled into an unconscious, bloody heap in the middle of the street when enough oxygen at been cut off from his brain.

A wave of murmurs was heard in the crowd that had gathered around this altercation. Amon paid them no mind and left the man where he fell before starting back to the clinic. If some kedan saw fit to threaten and abuse those they saw beneath them, Amon would be more than happy to return the favour with fear. ]

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[By this point he had gathered that some time had passed since he'd been here last, even though to him it felt like nothing more than a long nap. The thought was distressing, to say the least, because he didn't know where he'd been all these months, if he'd been anywhere at all.

And, of course, because he didn't know who was still here and who wasn't. Mainly: his brother, who he hadn't seen for a while prior to his own absence. He knew that Noatak (and he was still Noatak - Tarrlok refused to use that other name he'd picked out for himself) was good enough at hiding that not seeing him for a while didn't mean he was gone. However, when he heard a commotion going on, he certainly didn't expect his brother to be at the center of it.

He was unsure about whether or not he wanted to confront Noatak about this. Part of him just wanted to walk away and leave it, assuming he hadn't been spotted this far away. But it made him angry to see his brother using his bending like this after all the anger he spouted at other benders.

And, well, there was the slight bit of hope that Noatak might try to behave a bit better if he knew that Tarrlok was back.]

Noatak. [Said in that disapproving 'I'm-disappointed-in-you' tone of voice.]

[ Amon had one foot in the threshold when a familiar voice stopped him mid-stride. Working out of the poor side of the Earth, and now with bloodied knuckles was not how he imagined his lost then found then lost again brother would have wanted to see him. But that was all moot point; Tarrlok seemingly appeared out of thin air and back into Noatak's life.

Frozen where he stood and blue eyes peering out of white wood he stared mutely at his brother. Tarrlok didn't appear to be injured or even distressed; he looked bothered and maybe even angry, but that was to be expected. Instead of offering a single word or making any move towards him, Amon flipped the wooden sign on the window of the clinic door from 'OPEN' to 'CLOSED' before he disappeared inside. Following him in was entirely Tarrlok's decision. ]

[As much as Tarrlok wanted to be angry that Noatak would just run away from him, he also thought that it might be a sign of his brother having some sort of remorse for what he just did. That was better than nothing, right? Or, it could just be that he didn't want to argue with Tarrlok over it.

Only one way to find out. He opened the door - it wasn't locked and a 'CLOSED' sign wasn't enough to keep him out - and followed Noatak inside.]

Noatak, you can't avoid me forever. [How long had Noatak been here without him, anyways?]

[ Back facing the door, and Tarrlok, Noatak was hurriedly cleaning a stock cabinet. Metal equipment that made a small racket as he ignored his brother in favour for a bout of neurotic tidying up.

Now it was against his brother's wishes not to avoid him? Of course it was. Noatak could all to easily belief his brother would disapprove no matter what he did, or didn't do. ]

[It was against his wishes now because he'd been gone for so long, and after what he'd seen, well...they needed to have a talk, even if Tarrlok wasn't exactly eager to talk about it, either.]

I'm not leaving until we talk, so you might as well stop ignoring me.

I was told you had left.

[ Noatak kept his tone clipped and dispassionate as he still refused to turn around. They both knew now they were here they weren't going anywhere. ]

For a while, I had. I just got back.

[And now the important part...]

Would you have done what you did out there if you knew I was watching?

I see.

[So they had gone through the same gauntlet with no recollection of what happened. Unfortunate, but it did bring him a bit of comfort to know Tarrlok hadn't gone through anything unpleasant.

Noatak busied himself by playing with the strings of his mask to get it off; he knew Tarrlok would harp on him if he didn't. He found somewhere out of the way to keep up while ruminating on the 'correct' answer to give his brother. ]

Almost breaking his jaw, or knocking him out with bloodbending? Let's not mince words here: What troubles you the most- that I brutalised a man in the street, or that I used my bending?

But to answer your question, without hesitation.

Both. I don't object to self defense, but there is such a thing as going too far and I have no doubt you would have criticisms for me if I defended myself in a similar manner.

[He looks around, and for the first time focuses on where they are instead of what his brother is doing.]

Do you work here? [As in: 'Here in this place where you are pretty much definitely using your bending for healing'. Which Tarrlok would have no objections to, if it was anyone else.]

You invite criticism simply by offering it. [ Noatak makes no attempt to even sound civil. ] You've never given a damn about excessive behaviour if it didn't come back to bite you.

I do. [ He took a moment to finish cleaning what mess a busy day had made while try decide if he was infuriated or relived to see his brother. ] And before you ask I seldom find myself bending, and if I do than it's just to remind myself it's even there.

...I don't claim that my own past is spotless but the point is I'm trying to do better. And, might I add, I never had to use bending in my chosen career at all and you still seem to think that's how I got ahead.

[He sighs. At this point, part of him would rather just give up on Noatak, but he still has some loyalty left to his family.]

We've spent twenty-six years apart. Are you interested at all in the possibility that there might ever be something other than animosity between us? Because if you want us to be enemies, we can be.

Don't [ Noatak pointed to his brother; his posture taking on a menacing quality to it. In reality Tarrlok's comment hurt more than it angered him. ] try to manipulate me as if you're trying to win my vote.

You and I both know any past attempts at mending our relationship were through my initiative. I've made concession after concession with you since coming here and while your suspicions are fair I believe this little pissing contest has started to wear thin. [ Already exhausted with yet another argument on the verge of becoming ugly, Noatak side with slumped shoulders. ]

For the sake of our mother, try to convince yourself that I genuinely don't wish to see us in opposition again.

Your initiative? You're lucky I'm willing to get near you after what you admit you did to me. I'm not the bad guy here for not immediately forgiving you.

[He clenches his fits, trying not to show his anger but failing.] You have no right to bring her into this. If you want to make a concession to me, then put this ridiculous cause of yours behind you. Unless it's more important to you than your family is.

You're right, Tarrlok; I hurt you and there is no excuse for that. But I will only ask once that you not make assumptions of what leaving home did to me. Or that I shouldn't have the right to speak of my mother because of it. [ Noatak drew the line there and made no secret of how bitter he really was. ] Perhaps if you were assaulted in the street for what or who you were then you would have jumped markedly slower on my "cause." A cause and notion that do not even exist here.

In case you had forgotten it is us, and only us.

You don't have the right to feign concern for our mother in order to get me to agree with you. [Because, regardless of how long ago that it happened, he still connects his own desire to take care of his mother as 'something Noatak thinks is weak'.]

Then why do you insist on keeping that mask around if you're not still attached to that story you made up?

[ If Tarrlok had asked him a question it had sailed over Noatak's head the moment he thought it wise to accuse him of feigning anything between them. The guilt that burdened him over his brother lessened only minutely the more heinous Tarrlok's actions and erratic behaviour had become, but their mother was a sore spot.

The implications and insults Tarrlok was throwing his way were getting too heated however justified and Noatak just cut loose. Before he knew it he threw a punch. ]

[He had kept himself at a reasonable distance from his brother, so there was still time for him to dodge the punch. He didn't bother striking back, and there wasn't any water around to bend. Bloodbending was, of course, a futile and dangerous endeavor in this situation.

Instead, he just backs up to the door, his hand on the knob. He could talk big and throw insults when they were just arguing, but he didn't want Noatak getting too close. He knew what happened to others in his situation before, and as much as his brother seemed apologetic for what he says he did, Tarrlok knew that his own bending could be taken again in an instant, in the heat of the moment. Permanently gone, just like that. And the last thing he wanted was to be defenseless here.

As much as he tried to look angry now, the truth was that he was frightened as well and some of that showed through no matter how much he tried to hide it.]

Stay away from me, or I'm leaving.

[ Noatak immediately put his hands up in a yield. Hands that were still caked with dried blood did not engender peace between them no more than anything else had. While he did regret having made to strike his brother he did not regret the anger he felt for Tarrlok's accusations.

He didn't want his brother to leave, but he could not let that transgression go. ]

So long as you understand that you will never use her against me like that again.

...I'm sorry.

[He gets off guard, and he is actually sorry for it. He's just so used to thinking of Noatak as this disapproving figure from his past that he failed once and might never be able to make it up to that the thought of him being able to hurt Noatak - with words no less - barely even occurred to him. His brother was too strong to be hurt. Right?]

I was just...reminded of our past, when you mentioned her, so I thought that was your intention. But it was a reaction I didn't think through very well. I'm sorry.

[ Relenting his anger, Noatak turned from his brother after a long and thoughtful gaze. There really no words and he nothing more to say once Tarrlok decided to let off a delicate subject.

He sees to the blood that still dirtied his hands at a sink at the other side of the small office. Back facing his brother once more his voice becomes quiet and distant. ]

I've spent a number of years dogging you at every turn. Should you wish we not see each other for a while longer I will understand and do so.

Avoiding each other wouldn't accomplish much. [Even if just ignoring the issue would make him feel a bit better, temporarily.]

You didn't answer me before. Why do still wear that mask? We're the only benders here, as far as I know. What good does it do?

Accomplish what; I wonder. [ Noatak cast Tarrlok a dark if detached state over his shoulder. ] You of all people should realise the longer you wear a mask the harder it becomes to simply...Stop.

[ Of course, he was only speaking in partial metaphor. The mask itself was merely a physical disguise, but the pair of them had lied about themselves for decades now. They both may as well have been wearing costumes ]

I mean, it wouldn't make things any better between us. [Even if the hope that things could still get better was slim.]

I don't know what you're talking about. Making the best possible presentation to the public is part of my job, but it isn't the same thing.

[ Noatak turned around. Leaning against the sink counter with pink stained hands from blood mixed water running in rivulets down his hands. Knuckles were white with the tight, frustrated grip he held to the sink edge, but he kept the rest of his demeanour in check. ]

Don't play coy with me after you've spent your entire life fabricating a lie to cover up our checkered past. Your "best possible presentation" would never acknowledge the monster that fathered us; you wear a mask the same as I.

Can you really blame me for that?

You know as well as I do that, even if it wasn't my fault, there would always be people who would distrust me simply because I have the capability to bloodbend, and because I'm his son. I'd never have gotten elected anywhere if that information was public.

[ Noatak was hardly subtle with his sardonic, dark bout of laughter. ]

You speak of prejudice as if you know its meaning.

[He doesn't want to get into this conversation. He wants Noatak to just leave all this equalist stuff behind, but supposes this type of thing can't be avoided that easily.]

Don't start with that again. You need to stop acting like I had an easy life just because I'm a bender. You know I've suffered, Noatak. You're the only one who really knows.

After a fashion. [ Noatak knew the response was unfairly cold, but he couldn't deny how bitter the years made him. ]

Forgive me for not sympathising with your the trials of your illustrious political career, but this isn't the fight you want to start.

My illustrious political career that I spent my entire youth working towards. It wasn't just handed to me because I'm a bender and I won't hear your disagreements on that point.

Besides, you're a bender too, if this is a fight you want to start.

I learned when to apply discrepancy and where to see unjust privilege where it thrive. Not that I want to diminish your legitimate accomplishments in light of your feats that were comparatively less-so.

[ Despite of the acerbic direction Noatak was determined to take this conversation he had no hint of satisfaction in how he spoke. ]

You and I are both still animals when backed into a corner. So why don't we stop pretending otherwise? It's not all my fault.

You're so eager to jump to the aid of those you see as less fortunate. I don't remember anyone coming to our aid when we needed it. It's every man for himself, and it's naive to think otherwise.

[Because he's bitter, and the only way he can be less angry about the fact that he and Noatak were stuck facing their problems alone is by saying that everyone has to face their problems alone.]

If you want to think you're an animal, go ahead, but I'm not following that line of thought. For all you claim to care about fairness, you sure seem to think that we deserve to be punished for something we didn't choose.

Those you've made unfortunate [ Tarrlok was putting him against his hard morals and soft spot; he couldn't be both his brother and Amon, but he couldn't drop one for the other so easily either. Noatak's mouth set in a deep frown. ] If all you're going to do is hold me against the supposed crime of running away as a scared child then you'll find this argument going in circles.

It's not what you had no choice in but the acts you did, and to be honest I would have been happier if neither of us were benders. Nothing that happened to us justifies later violence.

If neither of us were benders from the beginning, yes, perhaps he would have kept the loving father act and perhaps we never would have known his past at all. But we are benders, and taking that away won't do a thing except put us at a defensive disadvantage.

[Not that all non-benders were defenseless, but most of the great non-bender fighters had trained with some sort of weapon since they were very young and Tarrlok figured he was too old to learn an entirely different fighting style. Not everyone could be a prodigy.]

It may not justify it, but at the same time...we can't be expected to make all the right choices alone. Maybe you were just a scared child when you ran off, but your last words to me then were all I had. I tried to be someone you wouldn't think was weak anymore, so I could at least feel like you would have thought better of me if I ever got to see you again. I suppose that's pointless now.

I know but- [ Noatak finds himself wringing his hands and inspecting the floor around his feed. Meeting his brother eye to eye became as much a challenge as when they first arrived; before they even made attempts at something remotely civil. ] I'm sorry but I don't think I have it in me to dwell on what might have been more than I already do.

Making excuses won't help us now. [ As if it ever had. He couldn't excuse much of anything; his trying to move on was what landed him in such hot water and blinded him so that he had willingly captured his own brother. The only one living person he claimed to have any affection left for. ]

For what it's worth I never thought you were weak and my greatest crime was parting with those words. I am so sorry; I am.

...As much as it hurt to hear, you weren't wrong. I'm not proud of the way I was back then. I think if I had dealt with things differently, it would have turned out better for us.

[Because Tarrlok has unreasonably high standards for himself at age eleven. That, and being angry at his past self was a bit better than being angry at himself right now.]

[ Haytham was accustomed to ignoring the street fights that continually broke out on Keeliai, but there was something particularly noteworthy about this one that piqued his attention. There were the accusations, highly vitriolic and condemnatory, but he dismissed them as typical xenophobia, a common trait among the kedan. There was the mask, odd even when compared to the foreign outfits of the native population, but its mystique dulled in comparison to the actual fight. It was a technique Haytham had never seen before, surgical in execution and brutally effective.

A simple touch to the forehead, and the kedan fainted. If only assassinations were so elegant. ]

That was quite a technique.

[ he tone is level, keeping curiosity and envy out of his voice even though he feels a tinge both. Haytham makes no motion to follow the stranger back into the clinic, not wanting to put himself in a position where the stranger would have a tactical advantage of any kind. ]

Where did you learn that?

[ Amon expected reprimand from either the crowd that had already started to dissipate or anyone whom accompanied the kedan still lying in the street, but praise? One had to wonder what sort of character a man possessed where that would be the sort of response at the forefront of his mind.

Curiosity becomes infectious when Amon turns at the threshold and steps back into the street. Watching behind the white lacquered mask he regarded the stranger as having an interest that weren't pure curiosity. The man was much too composed to have spent his years listening to his conscious, in Amon's opinion. ]

Self-taught.

[ Not the farthest thing from the truth he could have offered as explanation. His lie that the so-called guardian spirits granted him that nifty trick only served him when everyone in the room shared the same gods whose names he perverted. The alternative was to explain bending, and he had grown sick of speaking of the matter only to be met with ignorant wonder. ]

Adjunct to skills borne of breeding, I'm afraid.

Unfortunate, but not unheard of.

[ they had bloodbending, Haytham and family had eagle vision. Haytham stood his ground, hands folded passively behind his back, keeping his stare level with with the eye slits of the mask. ]

An odd skill for a healer to have, but the study of anatomy does have varied uses.

Oh?

[ It was a rather irresolute 'oh'; Amon not entirely certain the man was referring to personal experience, or simply what he picked up from time spent here. Both were possible, but Amon never liked to leave any question unanswered. ]

You assume this has always been my lot in life, but you're not so far off the mark. May I ask what sort of man walks into a violent commotion like that wholly unconcerned save for his own curiously?

I've known several— individuals who received similar abilities through their ancestry.

[ known, am one... eh. specifics. Lies came easily, and in this specific case, it was half true. ]

Merely a man who finds self defense a skill worth learning, and one with an old wound that has begun to twinge rather sourly.

[ that was an unfortunate truth, and his hand covers his side unconsciously as he wonders how much better it would have healed if he were younger. Age was a curious thing, sharpening the mind but dulling the senses, and even he had to admit that age was finally catching up to him. ]

Ah. Well don't we all? [ There was no hiding the caustic self-awareness dripping from that statement; he long held his ancestry to blame for his certain 'uniqueness.'

Amon's own bitterness aside the enigmatic man before him implied he was in need of one of his services or another, and it stirred something simply Hippocratic within him. After all, he had never turned down anyone he gauged as someone without any unnatural talents. Gingerly Amon put a foot in the clinic's threshold and opened the door wide. ]

Old wounds fester; I can take a look at it in favour of the sorry state in the streets. Maybe then we can discuss self-defence and your aged pains in better company.

[ the old is directed at his injury, but it's a sobering reminder that he'd received the wound over a decade ago, and that even back then his joints had begun to creak and his reflexes had not been as sharp.

His true intent had nothing to do with his old wound (he doubted there was anything they could do, even if Amon was the best doctor on Keeliai), but as far as excuses came, it was both convenient and truthful, if wholly embarrassing. Admitting he felt weak, even slightly, was as easy to him as a husband admitting to his wife he was sterile. ]

A sensible suggestion.

[ he keeps his tone brisk as he walks towards the door, looking rather energetic for a man who just admitted to feeling under the weather ]

It isn't severe enough to impede my daily routine, but pain strikes me at the most inopportune of moments— I am an active man, and I would rather not have to change that.

[ Amon unceremoniously pulled out a steel chair for Haytham with loud screech of metal screeching against a sandstone floor. While he could only call his medical skill field-grade by the standards of his time there was an undeniably knack he had for it. Due in no small part to how it was in medicine he honed his skills as bloodbender outside of simple violence. ]

I understand. This place demands a certain talent for staying alive and on ones feet. An old war wound?

[ It served as a way of to fill the quiet void that filled the clinic empty save for themselves, and of course to pry for information. ]

Nothing so dramatic, merely a moment of weakness. I was exhausted, let my guard down, and— well. [ the consequences are pretty obvious. let's not even mention the poor butler. ] It was a lesson hard learned, but I've seemingly managed.

[ He takes a seat, feeling rather dubious to the whole situation now that he's spoken of the Lucio affair to someone outside of the family. For a moment he sits rather still, unaware of medical procedure that isn't bloodletting or simple amputation ]

Perhaps it would be easier explained once you see.

Seeing as you're still alive I'll assume your assailant's only success was squandering the element of surprise. [ What Amon imagines isn't anywhere near as romantic as an assassin ambushing Haytham and two ancient brotherhoods caught in a bitter rivalry. He assumes Haytham was simply once as young and stupid as himself. ]

Looking would help, yes. [ Amon bit his caustic tongue, and laid a hand on Haytham's shoulder. Already he could feel the corded muscles in the man's arm and back tighten painfully. Age had done the injury no favours. ]

You must have torn the muscle at a young age, and never allowed it to heal properly. This will be unpleasant; you should try not to bite your tongue when I do this.

[ Bloodletting wouldn't be...wholly inaccurate, and while Amon had every intention of avoiding relying on his bloodbending he couldn't deny that any skill needed to put to constant practice. Detestable as he found his abilities he also didn't want to let his personal pride have him go soft.

There was a small audible 'pop' noise as Amon felt through the long-suffering ball of nerves and poorly healed muscle with pressure in Haytham's arm uncoiling like a snake. But he could only alleviate the pressure the injury put on itself. You couldn't heal scars. ]

Rest was not on the forefront of my mind, nor did I have the luxury of time.

[ he wanted to add on more, a witty retort of some sorts: that there was no rest for the wicked, or that he'd returned the injury in full, but the very foreign sensation of bloodbending shuts him up. He'd rather have died than give any outward sign of surprise, but even decades worth of stoicism and stubbornness can't keep a sharp breath of pain from escaping.

He'd been expecting something the lines of native medicine— stupid really, considering the demonstration that brought him here in the first place. But in Haytham's defense, there's nothing in the world that can really prepare you for the sensation of having inner bodily functions redirected by an outside force. He sits for a few seconds in rather stunned silence, before finding his voice, remarkably as lofty as ever. ]

It's the same technique, I assume. Employed in another manner for a markedly different outcome.

[ it's like that moment where he chased down Ziio and had difficulty catching his breath. you sound stupid Haytham, go home and think about how stupid you sound. ]

I wouldn't doubt it; you don't shoulder something like this for so long unless you had no other choice. [ Amon and puns need to break up. ] Forgive my wording.

[ A hand lingers on Haytham's shoulder as he felt out for any other old war wounds or the like. Amon was surprised to find Haytham otherwise healthy as an ostrich horse. For a man who he surmised lived a life of violence to be so accustomed to it, and at his age, Amon expected more than one neglected injury with a few collected scars. Interesting. ]

It's a...flexible art, and while what you saw outside wasn't a gentle demonstration the technique itself is rooted in the healing arts.

[ Fingers ghosted off Haytham as Amon disappeared into an adjacent room and re-emerging with a glass of water. For the briefest moment the water appeared to have a dull, opalescent and bluish light as Amon argued with himself if he should practice waterbending to heal while he was here. That he placed a very ordinary glass of water next to Haytham was his answer. ]

Can you tell me more about your attacker? [ Blunt with his questions and openly curious as he sat down in chair catty-cornered to Haytham. ]

[ Haytham cleared his throat slightly as he mulled over how to really describe Miko. ~~How do I even begin to explain Miko?~~ He tried to kill me once. It was awesome.

He takes the glass with a small nod, but not before noting the odd glean the water took for a split second before it was handed over. Not poison: no poison had that kind of effect, nor would any assassin take the effort to heal his target before killing them. He could ask, but instead he runs a thumb along the glass's rim, considering. The saying won't be invented for another few centuries, but #YOLO. ]

His name was Miko; I did not know him well, but he was a good man, merely fulfilling his duty. He was careless that day, and so was I— I took his blade, and he my horse.

[ a good man, but an assassin. Haytham's mouth twists slightly as he considers the irony of it all, and how it must have felt to be run through by his own blade. He took a small sip, arranging thoughts and half truths before continuing. ]

He nearly ruined my arm, even if only by accident, and I repaid him fully the next time we met.

[ his tone is light, clipped, almost as if discussing nothing more than unexpected weather. He turns his attention from the water to stare at Amon directly, mask be damned. ]

Removing threats is a necessary part of my work, as I'm sure it is in yours.

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