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[depayse]

You finally make a place for me besides just in your head, and you do it today. Of all days.

A little below the belt, don't you think?

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[givetheslip]

And why is today such a poor choice?

[Someone's mun knows but isn't sharing.]

[depayse]

[Ah, Maria. One of the few with some sense. His anger softens a little though with her around.] Anniversary.

Not one you'd really celebrate.

[givetheslip]

[She likes to think so. Maria nods, not pressing for details.]

I have one or two like that; I think I understand.

[depayse]

[He wonders briefly if any of these dates correlate with Altaïr.] Glad I'm not alone. I guess I gotta look on the bright side.

Not stuck in a lie-down chair anymore.

[givetheslip]

[Some do, but there's also her actual anniversary with his husbandly predecessor. Not a day to remember.]

I...see. [No she doesn't.] There's something to be said for keeping the good points in mind, I suppose.

Though depending what your mun has in mind, you may find you'll miss this chair. Theysseldom have our best interests in mind.

[neverlady]

Today seemed like a fine day.

[depayse]

[The ladies in his life are all adding salt to the wound. :l] Well, today isn't.... I mean, the twenty-first. Yesterday. [Dammit, he knows it isn't going to make sense.] For me. My time.

[A frustrated sigh.] It's not right to, uh... tease a guy about his last day.

[neverlady]

[Not in the slightest. There's both a genuine question and a slight teasing in Anne's tone.]

Aye, are you up for execution, mister? Can't imagine what your crime might be. [He certainly doesn't look like a scoundrel or rogue.]

[depayse]

[These ye olde people are kind of funny. Execution. Hahaha... ha....

Yeah, okay, it's probably just like execution. You know it's coming. You have to go willingly. Your life flashes before your eyes. Yeah, it's execution.

Could he have still pleaded the belly?] Something like that. Not really up for it, more like it already happened. My crime? Destiny, I guess.

[neverlady]

[Already--? Well, she's seen stranger, she supposes. Both in this place and at home.]

You're no longer of the living, is what you're saying? [Juuuust to clarify here.]

[1066]

Right on time, some trademark Desmond Miles whinging. I'd recommend putting you back there, but I wouldn't wish to impose that sort of suffering on anyone, you know?

[depayse]

[Dammit, Shaun, consider his feelings!] Ha ha, very funny. [Not laughing.]

I'll remember to ask to be there when you kick the bucket.

[1066]

[ he's not your buddy, guy] Yes, yes, hilarious.

Mind if I ask to be around when you get over yourself? If I had a pence for every time you suffered some amount of post-mortem existential angst around here, I'd be filthy bloody rich.

[depayse]

[WOW.] You're great with gratitude, Shaun.

"Oh no, thank you for saving us from The Great Apocalypse, Desmond! We'd hate to have been killed by our own sun!"

[1066]

And you are absolutely terrible at impersonating me.

Oh, I'm sorry, should I have some WWDD bracelets printed for the team to wear? Maybe some shirts with your face on them? Doesn't make for a very 'selfless martyr' if you sit around feeling sorry for yourself.

[insolente]

What makes this day so important, signore?

[depayse]

[Ahaha... ha.... Oh boy. He is so unsure with talking to Ezio about death. It feels so wrong considering.] Kind of like a birthday, but not really.

More like an... unbirthday, if you know what I mean.

[insolente]

[What are you even talking about?]

No, I don't.

[depayse]

[Sigh. It is so hard to tell great great great great great grandpas the new age slang. He guesses it helps to be blunt.] Deathday.

Happy Deathday to me.

[insolente]

The twenty-first of December is the day you died? [He frowns.] Mi dispiace, signore. Do you think this had something to do with your writer's choice?

[sirenae]

It's the sentiment that counts, isn't it? [ A beat. ] Besides, you deserve to be remembered. You've earned it, Desmond.

[depayse]

Lucy.... [Now he just has the sads.]

I just did what I had to do. [A weak laugh.] Just no statues of me in Monteriggioni.

[sirenae]

Keep your chin up, soldier. [ Hey, they're both dead here. She just doesn't want to catch you all broken-up over deaths pledged to the nebulous greater good. ]

And that's why you shouldn't be sad. You saved them. [ A halfhearted attempt at reciprocating the gesture. ] I never pegged you as the autolatry type. Just don't let the ego go to your head.

[depayse]

For a little while, I guess. [Cause, you know, Juno and all.] Maybe after a couple of hundred years, I'll haunt someone for a statue.

[A frown.] Just wish I could have stuck around to see it.

[sirenae]

Selling yourself short already? [ Okay, being murdered (indirectly or not) by a sentient alien goddess is still a touch-and-go thing with Lucy. She continues on without breaking stride. ] Don't be petty. You'll be remembered by the Assassins, with or without an effigy.

As long as you don't scare this would-be sculptor to death by that point with your outdated lingo and egregious fashion sense, I don't see any real problems in your future.

— It would've been nice. Same-old, same-old, I suppose, but sometimes normality's all you ever really need.