At the question about his treatment at the hands of the Initiative, Haytham shrugged. "I cannot speak to their methods, though I'm told others have been drugged as well." He wasn't about to go tipping his hand just yet by explaining how he'd pressed his blade to the Guide's throat not long after arrival.
"...a man with evil intentions...."
Evil. Funny how the Assassins could spend their whole lives believing the Templars evil and themselves good, and yet Haytham had been raised to believe the exact opposite.
"I saw nothing, unfortunately," he said, not missing a beat in the conversation, despite his musing on the Assassin's choice of wording. At least this was no lie. "I was at sea with my son--one minute there, the next here." It felt odd to mention Connor to this man, very nearly a complete stranger. Then again, it still felt odd to have a son at all.
"England, lately by way of the Americas. The year was 1778. Yourself?"
no subject
"...a man with evil intentions...."
Evil. Funny how the Assassins could spend their whole lives believing the Templars evil and themselves good, and yet Haytham had been raised to believe the exact opposite.
"I saw nothing, unfortunately," he said, not missing a beat in the conversation, despite his musing on the Assassin's choice of wording. At least this was no lie. "I was at sea with my son--one minute there, the next here." It felt odd to mention Connor to this man, very nearly a complete stranger. Then again, it still felt odd to have a son at all.
"England, lately by way of the Americas. The year was 1778. Yourself?"