"You had a friend that the Templars shoved in the Animus as well?"

Cal hadn't bothered to ask much about the small cell of Assassins that Shaun operated with. He heard that someone named Lucy Stillman and someone else named Desmond Miles died. Presumably, Desmond was the son of William Miles. He didn't particularly feel like asking or learn anything more than he already had. It didn't feel relevant, and it certainly felt like he was intruding on something personal. Cal had enough of intruding on dead men's graves for a lifetime. Even if something, deep down, told him he'd probably see more ancestors eventually.

Then he rolled his eyes and tilted his head back to look at the ceiling. He threw the small ball in his hands upwards, catching it, then repeating the motion over and over again. Partially because he was bored, partially because he wanted to annoy Shaun.

"If you have any questions about what happened in Madrid? You better ask." He said calmly and with an edge of coolness. "Before the Mentor decides he's going to interrogate me himself."