Left fist, right fist, block.

Adam dodged the incoming throws from Clara and launched back, hitting her block. He smirked and pushed on further. His right hand fired out, pressing against her rib. The redhead grunted in pain and brought her knee up to his stomach, he winced and her right fist followed, colliding with his cheek. His head launched to her left and his body followed.Lleaving him on the floor of the safety mat.

“Goddamnit.” He moaned, slowly pushing himself up onto his feet, wobbling a little. “Why are you so lithe?”

“Because I don’t sit on the computer as much as you do.”

“Oh come on, you sit there just as much as I do.”

“I don’t sleep at the desk either.”

Adam narrows his eyes and shakes his head, grabbing a bag of frozen peas from a container, holding it to his face. “I’m going to get you back for that.”

Clara just chuckled and stretched out, jumping on the spot a couple of times before walking away, other things to prepare for. Adam looked around the makeshift gym of the safehouse and shrugged, going back to the computer room, determined to find Zanzas handler.

“British man, coming through.” He called, tapping on the door to announce his arrival.

“What? Oh. Isn't everyone here British?” Abigail replies from inside, jokingly. “Come on in.”

He swings the door open with his shoulder, walking in backwards and twisting around, clutching the bag to his face. He looks over and then makes his way to the computer, sliding in place. “True for the most part. One of the guys is from Germany, another from India. But the majority of us are from the UK.”

“Well, I was born and raised American, obviously, but I do have dual citizenship to here. So technically I'm British. Technically.” She looks up at Adam from behind her laptop, which is covered in stickers.

“That poor laptop.” He sighs, flipping windows to one monitor or another, watching her in a convenient mirror. “It’s a wonder it can breathe, honestly.”

“Computers don't breathe.” She rolls her eyes. “Besides, where else would I put my stickers? They all have memories.”

“Ah, but they do. In a sense.” He responds, shaking his head. “If the air doesn’t flow, they get buggered. As for the stickers… Eh. On your forehead?”

“Then they'd fall off. In the shower.” Abigail smirks.

Adam arcs his brows, mind wandering for a moment. “Then wrap cling film around your head.”

“Then I'd be more recognizable. Hide in plain sight. I can't go outside with a narwhal sticker plastered to my forehead.”

“Then wear a cap.”

“Shut up.” Abigail says jokingly, turning her gaze back to her laptop.

“But babbling along about god knows what is my thing.” He shrugs, looking to her in the mirror before turning his attention back to the computer. “What’s the phrase…? Oh yeah, Haters gonna hate.”

“Mhmm.” Abigail ignores Adam, still focusing her attention at the screen in front of her.

“What are you gazing at anyway?” He asks a few minutes later, spinning around in the chair to face her. “I’ve not yet seen you so focused.”

“I am currently having a very important conversation with the people at DedSec. For some reason, they value my opinion. Probably because I'm an Assassin. They get huge nerd boners over that.”

“Tell them I’m still not a fan.” He shrugs, spinning back to his desk.

“Yeah.” She says, obviously not registering what he's saying.

Adam watches her for a moment as an idea forms to mind. With an innocent voice he speaks to her once more. “Did I mention I’m married?”

“Nope.” Abigail says, still not listening.

“Yeah. My husband is a lovely guy. Called Steve.”

“I thought you were going to say your hand and that box of tissues you have over there.”

“Hah. Only on the weekends.” He chuckles, not sure if she was really listening or not.

“Uh-huh.”

“Yeah we have a couple of kids. Roger and Annabeth.”

“Fuck off, you dipshit.” She mutters, looking up after she realizes what she said. “Oh. Not you fuck off, there's this guy and he has his head up his ass. Sorry.”

Adam raises both his brows and chuckles. “It’s fine, I’m just regaling you with my life, it’s no problem. If he’s in England, I could go and tase him.”

“No. He's in the States. We don't have anything over here. Just in the U.S. We don't currently have the assets to expand, and we don't plan on it.” She scowls. “I could beat him up myself, for the record. After this knee heals.”

“I know, but there’s something hilarious and satisfying about seeing a grown man piss himself. Especially when they’ve been a thorn in your arse.” Adam responds, remembering the many times he’s seen that. “Nothing delivers a message better than humiliation.”

Abigail shuts the lid to her laptop with a sigh of exasperation. “Well, I had to leave that conversation before I called him up and cussed his ass out. What were you saying?”

“Oh, I was just seeing if you were paying attention. Describing a marriage with a man called Steve.”

“Adam and Steve. Nice.”

“Eh, don’t worry though. I’m into women.” He laughs, looking something up on a website. “Or whatever doesn’t sound so weird.”

“Yeah. No homo. I follow you.”

“Well I suppose that’s one way of putting it.” He shrugs. “Anyway, any luck with the next clue?”

“No. I haven't been able to figure anything out. Although I looked through it this morning and I saw a person that looked a hell of a lot like you, but it couldn't be you since the pictures were taken 14 years ago.”

“I would have been ten-ish.” He responds with a confused expression on his face. He looks like his cousin to some extent, and some other members of the family. “Are you sure it wasn’t me?”

“Yeah.” She takes the photo album and flips it open, searching through the photo. She stops on a page and pulls a photo out of a sleeve. “See? It was taken in 2002. And it has my mom in it. She had long hair then.”

Adam takes the photo and stares at it in silence, taking in all the features. The greying hair, the eyes and that half cocked smirk. He knew it well, how could he not? He’d grown up seeing it every morning. With a heavy hearted sigh he looks to Abigail. “That’s my dad.”

Her eyes widen, before she nods. “Oh. That makes sense. You look a lot like him.”

“Well, he is my dad. I’d be worried if I didn’t. I mean you do look like your mum, after all.”

Abigail looks down at the photo. “I get that a lot. Everyone tells me that. I'm not nearly as kind and loving as she was, or as understanding. That's all I got from her.”

“Please, she was pretty. It’s a good thing.” He shrugs, slumping down in his seat for a while, mind racing as to why their parents are connected. “Does it explain why they’re in a picture together?”

“Oh… uh… thank you.” Abigail's face turns slightly red. “No, it doesn't, but I know she became a Master right around the time I turned eight, so around the time this was taken, but that doesn't make sense. How would she know your dad?”

“He was the mentor before I took the position, pretty important guy.” He shrugs, sighing again as he races ideas through his mind. “Perhaps that’s why? Maybe at a ceremony or something.”

“That makes a lot of sense.” Abigail furrows her brow, deep in her own thoughts. “I don't remember her ever wearing this before.” She pauses. “And your dad, there's more of a view of what he's wearing. Looks like something an Assassin would wear. Maybe he was part of the ceremony?”

“He was a Mentor. So it’s always a possibility.” He shrugs, looking back to it and thinking on the matter. “Anything in the background that might give a clue?”

Abigail studies the photo with a sharp gaze. “Not that I can see, but these pain meds are stopping me from using Eagle Vision to try and see anything.”

“I can’t do anything about that, sadly.” He responds after a few moments, shaking his head. “Except wait until the meds wear off.”

“That's gonna be uncomfortable on my part.” Abigail winces at the memory of the knife going behind her kneecap.

“Well, we can wait til the knee is healed. But that could take a while.” He shrugs, sighing. “We’d take you the hospital, but they report all knife wounds to the police.”

“Yeah, the thing is, pain doesn't exactly help my focus. So I'm going to have to wait until it’s healed.”

“Eh, you can hang around with me. I’ll take good care and help out how I can.” He smiles, shrugging. “It’s not like I’ve fallen asleep in here a dozen times already as it is.”

“Oh, yeah… uh… thanks.” Abigail’s face reddens.

He gives her a small salute and spins around to the computer again. “No problem Captain. Just let me know if you need something.”

“Captain?”

“Aye Cap’n.”

Abigail smiles. “And what, you're my kitchen boy?”

“Looks that way, guess I means I have to do anything.” He adds on, smirking a little bit as he looks over. “Your word is my command, and what have you.”

“Is it, now? You know, in America, we follow things to the last word and like our loopholes. So I could ask you to do anything?”

He can be seen debating this as he stares at a picture of a Templar. “Got you, son of a bitch… Anyway, yes. Anything.”

He pauses. “I’m possibly going to regret this.”

“So… if I wanted Chipotle, I could ask you and you'd go? Right away? I feel like the President of the United States.”

“If we had Chipotle in England.” He chuckles. “Whatever that is.”

Abigail raises an eyebrow. “Why are you subjecting yourself to this?”

“You’re in pain, and I’m a helpful guy. There’s no real reason.” He laughs.

“I think there is.” She leans forward in her bed, a slight grin on her face.

“Is there?” He asks, tilting his head to the side. “I did the same for Clara, I’m just being a friend.”

Abigail scoots to the edge of the bed, reaching out to grab the back of Adam’s desk chair, pulling it towards her and spinning him around at the same time. As the wheels hit the frame of the bed, Abigail leans forward and kisses him on the cheek. As she goes back to her original position, she grins.

“Well. That was… Unexpected.” He responds, his cheeks turning a slight rose colour. You'd think by now he’d be able to not… Blush. He’s been with Zanza and Leona, after all. He runs a hand through his hair and smiles awkwardly. “Thanks, though.”

“I don't consider myself to be predictable.” She grins again.

“I noticed.” He nods, furrowing his brow. “I’m not entirely sure what you fully mean by that, honestly.”

She raises an eyebrow. “If I was fucking with you, I would be laughing my ass off.”

He takes a while to form some words that are actually relevant, and eventually just settles on “Huh. Well… I’m not really sure what else to say on the matter. I can’t say I’ve been in this position before.”

“You've never been spontaneously kissed on the cheek? You should really get out more, Adam.”

“Weeeeeeell, when you say it like that. I guess I have.”

“I'm surprised you've actually gotten out before. You seem like the type to stay inside on your computer all day.”

“Gee, thanks. I do get out you know. I don’t hide here all day.” He laughs.

“Judging by your pasty complexion, I couldn't tell.”

“Implying you get any sun.”

Abigail glances down at her equally pale arm. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“I’ll buy you a coffin.”

“We can share one, maybe. We both are pretty pale.”

Adam raised his brows at the comment, now assuming there to be some kind of underlying tone to all of it. He nods slowly and then shrugs. “I guess so, yeah. That works.”

“That would be pretty cramped.” Abigail grins again, but less playfully and more… sexily.

“We could make do, I’m sure we’ll fit.” He laughs, nodding slowly. “I can manage that.”

“Would we fit? Not well. Would it be comfortable? Yes.”

“We could always… Sleep on our sides. Probably.”

“Now, seeing as I'm taller than you, would I be the big spoon or the little spoon, Count Adam?”

“We can swap.” He chuckles, shrugging. “Besides, little spoon is the safe position.”

“I don't know… I might reserve little spoon for myself. Hey, I don't have long hair, so it wouldn't bother you.”

“I’m used to short hair, don’t worry about it.” He smiles softly.

“If I had long hair, it would become sentient and choke you. Of course, vampires are already dead.” She laughs, running her hand through her shaggy hair. “I'm surprised you didn't mistake me for a guy when you first saw me and walked right past the room I was in. You wouldn't believe all the times I get asked.”

“Well, Sera had short hair. I can usually notice these things. Besides, I didn’t get to be a good Assassin by being oblivious.”

“I'm glad you're observant. Although it normally doesn't take long for people to notice their mistake.”

“Is that before or after you slap them?”

“They just look down.” Abigail smirks.

“And then you slap them.” He adds, chuckling.

“Yes. Then I slap them.”

“Thought so. I could tell you were a slapper.”

“I slap them like this.” Abigail flicks her wrist, like she's activating a hidden blade, and mimics a slapping motion. “It helps make my point.”

“Fair enough. Though I think that’s more like slashing their face open.”

“Like I said,” She laughs again. “makes my point.”

“Well, I’m hungry. Want some chinese?”

Abigail nods. “I'm hungry too. Really hungry. I haven't eaten much today. Can you order some lo mein and sweet and sour chicken? Maybe some of those delicious bun thingies coated in sugar? And, of course, a five gallon bucket of fried rice?”

“Five gallon bucket?” He asks, raising his brows. “I’ll be damned if I find anywhere that does a five gallon bucket.”

“Okay, then, like, three cartons. Plus sweet and sour sauce. To drizzle over it.”

“I can roll with that. I’ll go order.” He nods, rolling to the door. He pokes his around it and shouts out. “ORDER UP! CHINESE FOR DINNER!”