The ship was pitching and tossing as Haytham and Connor were on board of the Aquila and on their way to find Church. I t was already dark and Connor hadn't seen his father for quite a while when he decided that he should go to his quarters to get some rest. He passed his father's quarters on his way and stopped at the closed door just to lean against the wood and listening for any sounds. Nothing. 'Probably already asleep…' the Captain thought as he went on and after a few more steps reached his final destination, not knowing that his father wasn't asleep nor that he wasn't even in his room.
No, Haytham had used the time under deck to go for a stroll through the Aquila when he spotted the rum stock. It may had been his son's ship but it was a ship after all and with it came a bunch of seamen who became thirsty after a long and hard workday on open sea. Haytham tried to imagine that also Connor allows himself a bottle from time to time. But 'No' was the only word that appeared in his mind when he thought about his son, Captain Connor, getting drunk. And the word 'No' just appeared one more time in his mind when he thought about allowing himself a bottle of this rum just now. He tried to figure out when he was drunk the last time, but it seemed to be so long ago that he wasn't even able to find the information in his memory. He usually never allowed himself to get too dizzy from the alcohol. 'Too many enemies, too many duties considering the order, too many endangerments…' these were the thoughts that crossed his mind, but he already had grabbed a bottle, uncorked it and started chugging it like it was exactly what he needed all those years. And it wasn't the last bottle he grabbed.
Connor, there while trying to cope with his "Captain's duties" as Master Faulkner once called it, just finished to write down the current events in the journal when he heard a noisy outside his room. Although he was tired and just wished to finally call it a day he was too curious to just ignore the noise that sounded like a wild horse trying to get out of a stable. But there was no need to follow those sounds as in the next moment the door flung open and Haytham appeared in the doorframe. Connor was too stunned to even say a word instead just stared at his father who obviously seemed to be out of balance. Leaning against the doorframe and grabbing the doorknob as if it was the last thing that could hold him back from falling on his face. "This is not my chamber…" was the first thing he slurred with his cocky british accent while stating the fact. The smell of alcohol slammed Connor like a punch and he brought his hand up to his nose while wondering why Haytham, although being aware that this wasn't his room, nevertheless stumbled some steps forward and closed the door behind him. With that disgusting smell of alcohol now even closer to him Connor tried to take some steps back, but the Aquila wasn't a cruise liner, there for the quarters weren't commodious and he was reminded to that when the back of the knees made contact with his bed. Haytham, now standing in the middle of the room, looked around and stared at the first thing that caught his eye. The desk. On it lay the journal. It was still opened on the page on which Connor just had written the events and the still wet quill lay nearby. Everything lit by the only candle in the room which stood on the desk as well. "What's all this about?!" Connor asked in a harsh tone. But his father just ignored him and weaved towards the desk just to lean over it. Steadying himself by placing his hands on the solid wood. "Ahhh, a journal." he began. His voice filled with amusement while his face showed a hint of a smile. "A good way… to remember old times." He said and with every word his voice became lower and he turned slowly to face Connor, who was still standing in front of his bed and observed his father's strange behavior with a suspicious frown. Without knowing what he said Connor snarled the first though that crossed his mind, "Are you touched in the head?!" .
By hearing the sentence he remembered so well Haytham just could stare at his son. The light of the candle flickered over his son's face and the remarkable resemblance between Connor and Ziio hit him like slap. He straightened up, as much as his blood alcohol level allowed him to, and said with the same low voice as before "You look so much like your mother." Connor, not only enraged because his father 'again' decided to ignore his question but also confused to hear the sentiment upon his lips, cocked his head to the side… "What?" was all he said while squinting his eyes as he tried to figure out if Haytham was just drunk or if it was some kind of strange tactic to catch him off guard and finally putting an end to his life. But there wasn't much time to weight the reasons for this conversation as Haytham , with the words "Yes, you do…" stepped forward, grabbed his son's jaw and pressed a rough kiss on his lips.
Due to his drunkenness and the still present loss of balance he sent both them on the bed. Haytham somehow awkwardly kneeling over Connor, still having a tight grip on his jaw, didn't even mind to break the kiss. And he probably had way too much alcohol in his blood to even see the reason why he should, if he even knew what he was doing at the very moment.
If maybe Haytham wasn't aware of the situation, Connor was all the more. Being first taken by surprise he now he began to struggle. Tasting the rum in his mouth and at the same time having problems to breathe, not just because of the kiss but also because his father shifted all his weight on the hand that lay on Connors jaw, he was resolved to get out of this case. With that he brought one of his knees up and brutally hit his father bollocks. The hit wasn't only hard enough to break the kiss but also to send Haytham headfirst over him. Connor seized the opportunity and stood up as fast as he could. Breathing heavily he stared down on Haytham who not only made contact with his knee but also with the wall. He now lay on his flank and dizzily looked up at his son. One hand clinging between his legs, the other laying limp in front of him he gasped and coughed unable to form a word. And while Connor slowly caught his breath, the gasping and coughing stopped and he found his father to be fast asleep.
Still trying to recognize what just happened he turned, blew out the candle, grabbed his Captain's hat and with the words "…Some fresh air might do me good." He left the room. One more time without knowing what he just said and how much he took after his parents.