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Desmond knew how to do this. He'd run the course so many times. He'd learned to keep his steps light, to match his shadow to the ones on his wall. He hadn't made a single noise on the lead up to now, in the closed off room. One man sitting on a chair, his back to the wall. He knew he hadn't been seen, that he had been quiet enough to be unnoticed.
But the man on the chair had seen him.
And yet, the man on the chair made no move. He kept reading his book. His posture didn't even change.
Desmond felt fury bubble in his gut. He was babying him. Telling him that it didn't matter he had been seen, because he was going to pretend he hadn't.
He wouldn't have done that for anyone else. Not for any of the other recruits.
Not for Sean.
As if sensing this, the man on the chair sighed, and closed his book. "You didn't fail, Desmond."
"Yes. I did."
Desmond hated how childish his voice sounded, but he knew he was right. He stepped out from behind his hiding place, and stood in front of his father.
"And that you didn't alert any of the others? Just me? Is that really a failure?"
Desmond's shoulders began to climb towards his ears. "You always said that I have to get past you to succeed."
"And you do. Eventually. But right now, a thirteen year old managed to get this close to a Master Assassin. I'd say that is impressive enough."
"Master Assassin." Desmond snorted, and kicked his foot against the ground. God, he was sick of that talk. Never mind the constant training, the constant need to prove himself, the adults of The Farm had to invent some kind of superhero group to face off against the imaginary enemy they created. "And what risk does a drug company have, again?"
William's eyes darkened, and suddenly he was before Desmond, moving in that uncannily fast way he could.
Desmond's breath caught, and he pressed himself against the wall instinctively.
"Abstergo is not a laughing matter, Desmond. They will destroy everything, kill everyone, just to prove they're right. Don't think for a moment we're safe here. We will never be safe. Not while they exist."
"...yes, sir."
Desmond's hands were trembling, where they were braced on the wall.
And then sighed, and turned away.
"You're young still. You don't know how in danger you are. I can only hope we can keep you safe. Until you understand."
He then takes a seat where he had been, and picks his book back up.
Inside the armoury, Solonna is sharpening a small dagger, laughing at something another woman says as she reloads a magazine.
She's barely able to stay upright after her son barrels into her, tucking his body into hers.
She's quick to pass the dagger off to someone else, and wraps her arms tight around her baby son. "Des, aguila pequeña, what's the matter? You know you ran into me, while I was holding a knife, si?"
Finally, Desmond lifts his head, enough that he was resting against his mother's shoulder.
"I'm never gonna be an Assassin."
"I'm not! And I won't ever be!" Desmond says, squirming away from his mother as quickly as he ran into her. "I won't be! Dad thinks I'm weak."
"He doesn't, mijo. He thinks you're young. Skills come with time and practice."
"And even if I could be, what's the point? The Templars aren't real! This is just a...a dumb cult!" Desmond kicks at the ground.
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