Haytham would like to believe it's just the alcohol messing with him. He sees you — an Assassin. An Assassin he killed a long, long time ago. Yet, there you stand, alive and perfectly fine.

You're staring right at him as you sharpen your blades. Oh, dear god, for once in his life, he desperately hopes he's hallucinating.

"This isn't real," Haytham mutters, downing his drink. "No, it's ridiculous. I killed that Assassin years ago. I'm worrying over nothing."