The moment stretches out as Altaïr imagines they're both considering what the future will hold. The silence around them, save for the sound of the wind, seems to indicate that they really have earned a moment of respite in the present. He isn't foolish enough to expect it to last long, but he's no longer arrogant enough to take it for granted.

Or, perhaps, to take for granted that the presences of the Summoned he's come to know will persist. These last weeks have been enough to prove otherwise, and Altaïr is still processing how much that bothers him. He's not a man many would call friend — has never been, maybe never will be, but he will not lie to himself and say he's been left untouched by all of this.

From under the beak of his hood, he meets Claude's eyes, and there's a faint smile for just a moment as he nods in thanks. "I've had a lot of practice."

It's more of an admission than he's made to Claude in the past, and a step closer to more truth than he's given anyone in this world, whether Claude realizes it or not.