Aedan enjoyed the response.  The revelation to an outsider of their highly guarded secret, their profession, was rare.  It held its own risks and consequences in both worlds, and yet it had already been calculated in the Irishman’s mind whether it was worth maintaining that anonymity.  His conclusion?  Spoiling it there for the sake of measuring Govannon had not been a waste.  As he’d hoped, the former doctor came across as more put off by the fact that Aedan had teased with the prospect of death, dismissing the possibility that he’d actually been poisoned outright.  It revealed a couple of important details about their positions in the midst of this dance of half-truths and self-interest.<br/><br/>First was that Govannon likely believed him to be what he claimed, falling to disease and in need.  He’d have been more worried about his own health after drinking the coffee if he thought that they were after revenge.  Second, the man held no apparent qualms with working in an environment with those of low moral standing.  Yes, he’d done his own unforgivable things, committed his sins, but he was not a hypocrite who would lash back at Aedan or Raff for their own.  The way he settled the coffee off to the side and dismissed its existence entirely was perfect.<br/><br/>Further disclosures brought the man’s excitement under evaluation.  Govannon had the giddiness of a child on Christmas Eve when presented with the idea that a real lab was hidden away there in the house, but the sense of a man of his age and status to at least attempt veiling it under a type of dignity.  Well, caution, at least.  Aedan hadn’t figured him out enough to know how much pride the man had.  If he had to guess, it was a great deal, though only because he wasn’t able to figure out why no one understood his mission.  It was about the same as a devout priest both shocked and maybe a touch disgusted when confronted with an atheist.  Aedan could indeed imagine this cunning, handsome man declaring those against him as nothing but heathens.  It was a fun image that sprang into his mind, Govannon standing behind a podium in a lecture hall instead of a churchly pulpit, his lab coated arm pressing a thick book on medical science to his chest in lieu of a bible, preaching his own beliefs to the masses as med students took around the collection plates for organ donations.  A tad gruesome toward the end, but if he didn’t have a dark sense of humour then Aedan wouldn’t have had one at all.  He chuckled.<br/><br/>What little bit of delight it had brought him didn’t stick around for long.  It was back to details.  As amusing an idea it might’ve been to Govannon, the two assassins didn’t seem to find a problem with him talking about the police headquarters.  Aedan turned his head ever so slightly toward his mentor, staring at the carpet at the large man’s feet instead of directly at him.  It was unnecessary, as were words.  He caught the almost imperceptible twitch of a finger.  Inward, toward the palm.  Raff had already started the wheels in motion.  The man had connections Aedan did not, and it was possible that he could come by the remnants of Govannon’s work without needing to break into anywhere and put themselves in the open.  If it came down to it, Raffaello would go alone and see to it himself.<br/><br/>That was not the most worrying part of the whole plan, however.  What Aedan disliked more than anything was that the discharged doctor had managed to set himself up a perfect out.  Even if there was no such vault, which Aedan took his mentor’s silence as confirmation that it was no lie, and even if there wasn’t anything in there needing retrieved, how were they to know?  Aedan couldn’t say one way or another, and if it was that secure then Raff wouldn’t be able to get in.  As good as he swore the Italian was at his job, there were real world limits, and this was one of them.  Raff couldn’t go along.  He was huge, and despite his ability to move as quiet as a mouse like a proper assassin should, he would’ve been too easily noticed when going into somewhere like that to confront a vault.  Worse yet, Aedan had the thought that it could’ve been a trap.  If the big idiot got himself captured or killed, he’d have died of a broken heart and guilt long before his lungs gave out.  Aedan wondered if he could’ve fulfilled that role and went instead, but knew that it was an equally bad idea.  All he needed was to become a prisoner in some other environment where he was no longer in control, under the crazy doctor’s ‘care’ in a secure location.<br/><br/>In short, Govannon had the perfect excuse to run off on his own, and there was no way to pressure the man into a corner to prevent it or convince him otherwise.  It was maddening, and Aedan didn’t like how helpless he felt in that moment.  That was perhaps just as much to blame for his sudden aim toward the smug asshole as anything.<br/><br/>“Aedan…” the soft, deep voice of his friend soothed from beside him.  It was a warning, too.  If Govannon was all he was supposed to be, then he might’ve been the last chance the hot tempered redhead had at survival.  Despite that, Aedan went off in an acidic rant in Irish Gaelic with no concern whether he was understood or not.  Raff’s response to it was still calm, reserved, and he spoke the language back to his ex-student.  It was clear that the words were stiff, laced with a thicker accent than when he spoke English.  It wasn’t a language Raffaello was great at, or even good.  Passable, as Aedan understood the words meant to comfort and ease him.  Wild green eyes narrowed, the gun still levelled on Govannon, and one more venomous phrase dripped from his lips.  It didn’t take someone familiar with the uncommon tongue to understand the nature of his words.<br/><br/><i>I don’t trust him.</i><br/><br/>Before the dark haired Italian could put in any more effort to sway him from his paranoia, the tickle in his chest from earlier returned to plague him.  He tried to bite it back, but his effort only got him so far.  The cough seized him.  It was dry and was painful to hear.  About the time he sucked in a breath, it was too harsh and aggravated his failing respiratory system even more.  The good news for Govannon was that he was no longer in the line of fire while his temperamental host fought the hacking cough back into submission.  Raff would blame the cigarette, though it was just as much the fault of that fine whiskey and his own tainted mood that had caused him to forget one of his medications the night prior.  Either way, nothing would be said about it, because Raff didn’t want to exacerbate an already turbulent atmosphere.  It would only make Aedan’s temper worsen and his heart and lungs have to work even harder than they already had to.<br/><br/>“Aedan, please,” Raff pleaded with him after he was left gasping.  As guarded as the Italian had been before, there was a noticeable amount of hurt in his expression as Aedan shoved a comforting hand away.  “Do you need oxygen?  Where’s a tank?”<br/><br/>“I’ll get it my fucking self!”<br/><br/>Harsh words from a raw throat.  Aedan shrugged out of the hand that came to rest on his shoulder and pushed up out of his comfy chair.  There was no arguing with him, but then there usually never was.  The redhead stormed off, muttering the entire way, something about being treated like an invalid, but the words were mostly lost when he passed through to the hall and left them there to wonder.  Well…  Raffaello didn’t have much to wonder about.<br/><br/>“Believe it or not, that went well,” he commented.  He swore fate itself had intervened and given the short-tempered man that coughing fit to break him away from the intent to neutralize what he perceived as a threat.  Raff didn’t think the trigger had ever been in real danger of being pulled, but he’d been wrong before.<br/><br/>“He’ll agree to let you go fetch whatever little secret you have hidden in your father’s vault.  He doesn’t like to admit it, but he knows his time is running out.  Current treatments are losing effect, we have no new directions to go in, and a successful transplant is almost impossible.  You are all he has left.  I’d say not to let that go to your head, but you don’t seem like the type.”  Raff smirked, moving to gather both forgotten coffee cups to return them to the tray.  “You’re not in it for the glory, are you?  I could almost admire you for that.  Most would be after fame, money, the chance to have your work published in the great medical journals…  Would you even care about all those trappings?” Raff asked, honestly intrigued by the man, just as much as Aedan had been.