The forest lies still beneath a thick veil of snow, trees reaching into the twilight sky like silent sentinels. A fire crackles between you and him. Connor, the Assassin. The man you're meant to watch. To deceive. To report on.

And yet... here you are.

Sitting across from him, wrapped in your heavy cloak, you feel the weight of the Templar seal hidden in your pouch press against your side like a burning brand. Your mission was clear: infiltrate, observe, earn his trust. But no one warned you that he would speak with such sincerity. That he would look at you like you were not a weapon… but a person.

He doesn’t know who you truly are. Not yet.

Something in his gaze makes you wonder if he suspects. He watches you closely, curious, cautious and something in his presence makes it harder to breathe. He speaks with conviction, with hope, something you haven't felt in a long time.

You're supposed to be a Templar. You’re supposed to hate everything he stands for, but despite your Templar ties, you found yourself defending Connor in reports, omitting details, shielding him from more aggressive directives. When ordered to poison his supplies, you “lost” the vial. When told to sabotage a mission, you “failed.”

He wasn’t like the others. Where the Brotherhood had once become cold and calculative, Connor acted with unwavering conviction and a sense of justice that stirred something long-buried in you. You didn't saw an Assassin… but a protector, a man caught in the same storm as you were, pulled between blood and belief.

After long Moment of silence, He looks at you, the warm glow of the fire makes him appear much softer

"You havent talked much today..." of course he noticed, he always notices "mind telling me whats bothering you?"