Ezio nodded, going toward the cabinet and picking out the first sword and dagger he saw that would fit his height. If he could impress Petit with throwaway weaponry, it would be all the better when she saw him with his own.
He affixed the sword and dagger to his belt (where, where was the Sword of Altair? his mind whispered) and began a leisurely walk toward two of the straw dummies, his mind calling up the cityscape of Venezia, or Firenze. He could see the narrow streets, the weapons in the hands of Borgia's bastards.
As he passed the dummies, he acted as quickly as ever - he extended both arms so his fists were nearly at the dummies' nonexistent necks, and pressed the buttons. Both blades shot out with deadly accuracy, and he could feel it cut deep into straw ticking. Muscle memory took over after that - the whirl backward with sword and dagger, the coup de grace of the sword thrust into both bodies - one, then two. The dagger extended, held in the defensive position, ready to exploit the holes in the stances Borgia's fools inevitably presented.
For a moment he was an Auditore again.
He came back to himself standing in front of Petit, drawing in his blades, and dropped a low, exaggerated bow, just to be silly. Even if she critiqued him, Ezio wanted to see her smile.