It's been a long time since Altaïr shared more than the most casual of touches with another person, and even knowing his intent as he moved to her, the feeling of Diana's lips on his and her hand against his head overwhelm him for a moment. No one has touched him like this in months, perhaps a year, and longer than that since it last meant something. Not since Adha died, and he'd been certain that any capacity to feel the kinds of things he'd felt for her had died with her—

But he is not thinking about Adha now.

Altaïr is good at keeping his distance from others. Overcoming such a gap is harder. This isn't the type of connection he'd imagined, but it's easier with her. Diana is beautiful, and brave, and easy to like, and in this moment he wants her more than he could put into words if he tried. Which he has no intention of doing. He wraps his arms around her as she pushes against him and lets one kiss melt into another as the world outside their embrace seems to fall away.