One cramped underground ride and another sprint later and he was walking, breathless, into the office. He wished he was as fit as his dream counterpart, he hardly ever seemed winded or out of breath even after running the length of Florence, but then he supposed that sort of thing happened in dreams didn't it? He waved a hello to the receptionist and jumped in the lift, the ride up giving him a chance to regain his composure. Not enough for his PA of course, who took one look at his dishevelled appearance and nearly had a heart attack.
"Ezio, you have a meeting today, remember? It's very important, you're already late..." she jumped to her feet, coming out from behind her desk to fuss over him before reaching into a side room to fetch a suit he kept on site for these very occasions.
"Claudia, you worry too much, I'm only a little late. Give me the suit, I'll be ready before you know it." he held his hand out, unfazed as always by her admonishment. His long-suffering sister handed him the clothes with a disapproving frown (so much like their mother sometimes), he responded with a cheerful grin and disappeared into his office.
Successfully suited, hair combed into a much neater ponytail, and now ten minutes late for his meeting, Ezio emerged from the office with his business face on and headed into the meeting room.
"Sorry for being so late, I was- Leonardo," he breathed in shock, his Italian accent - softened by years of living in London - suddenly thicker as his lips formed the word with a familiarity that would be surprising if he hadn't heard himself say it several times in his sleep. How was this possible? There was no mistaking the man sitting at the table, sketching away (and that, too, was just so recognisable, how often had he interrupted Leonardo at work?) It was the man he'd been dreaming about.
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timeasmymeasure
Re: Translation in hovertext if needed
Date: 2016-07-22 10:18 am (UTC)One cramped underground ride and another sprint later and he was walking, breathless, into the office. He wished he was as fit as his dream counterpart, he hardly ever seemed winded or out of breath even after running the length of Florence, but then he supposed that sort of thing happened in dreams didn't it? He waved a hello to the receptionist and jumped in the lift, the ride up giving him a chance to regain his composure. Not enough for his PA of course, who took one look at his dishevelled appearance and nearly had a heart attack.
"Ezio, you have a meeting today, remember? It's very important, you're already late..." she jumped to her feet, coming out from behind her desk to fuss over him before reaching into a side room to fetch a suit he kept on site for these very occasions.
"Claudia, you worry too much, I'm only a little late. Give me the suit, I'll be ready before you know it." he held his hand out, unfazed as always by her admonishment. His long-suffering sister handed him the clothes with a disapproving frown (so much like their mother sometimes), he responded with a cheerful grin and disappeared into his office.
Successfully suited, hair combed into a much neater ponytail, and now ten minutes late for his meeting, Ezio emerged from the office with his business face on and headed into the meeting room.
"Sorry for being so late, I was- Leonardo," he breathed in shock, his Italian accent - softened by years of living in London - suddenly thicker as his lips formed the word with a familiarity that would be surprising if he hadn't heard himself say it several times in his sleep. How was this possible? There was no mistaking the man sitting at the table, sketching away (and that, too, was just so recognisable, how often had he interrupted Leonardo at work?) It was the man he'd been dreaming about.