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Connor isn't sure how Haytham found him.
The pair sit far apart from each other, not acknowledging the other. Someone will have to break, will have to talk. It won't be Connor, though. He is not the one who sought him out. He is not the one who needs to explain himself. He is not the one who held onto crucial information that Connor needed to know, and decided only to share it when it pleased him.
Connor tucks his knees under his head, staring out at the clearing. There's a sizable buck in the distance, watching over a doe and a fawn. He could shoot the buck now, take it back to the homestead. Miriam has been wanting the antlers of a buck, and the meat would be good to trade. Connor's down wind. He could hunt it.
Haytham coughs, and Connor glares at the buck, ignoring the doe and fawn. He won't be the one to acknowledge the other first.
"If you are planning on ignoring me this entire time, I should just end you now." Haytham sighs, activating his hidden blade behind Connor. Connor is aware of Haytham - of the danger he could provide. Just like the buck, turning his back is dangerous. But Haytham is not behind him, instead sitting on the edge of his vision.
"I understand that you're," Haytham sighs, rolling his eyes. "upset, what with how I didn't inform you of General Washington's indiscretions towards your people, but-"
"Washington wasn't the one to burn my village." Connor interrupts, venom dripping into his tone. "He ordered it, and is as responsible of the act as the men who did burn it, but it was Lee."
"Connor, please." Haytham rolls his eyes, his voice disapointed. "You can't genuinely believe that Washington wouldn't do his own dirty work."
"I never said that." Connor glares deeper at the buck. "But he was retired to Mount Vernon when my village burnt, when my mother died. No other colonists were there. Just Lee and your men."
"I never ordered-"
"I know." Connor says, untucking his knees from under his chin. He moves into a crouch, glaring at the buck. "You never ordered my villages burning. You weren't here. But your men still did it. My mother's blood is on Lee's hands. My blood is on Lee's hands. My problem with you is not born from my problem with them."
"Excuse me?"
"You are a man of inaction." Connor says, his voice as scalding as boiling honey. "You do nothing, holding onto your secrets until it suits you to tell them. You lie and send others to do your dirty work until it suits you."
"Connor-"
"No." Connor says, standing and pulling out his bow. He lines his sights on the buck, watching as the doe and fawn graze near him. "You only make excuses, and you do not explain anything. I have no need for excuses. Not from you."
Connor fires, the arrow striking his target in the eye. The buck falls as Haytham rises. The doe and fawn dart off into the brush, and Connor walks towards the carcass as Haytham leaves. Connor kneels down next to the buck, and Haytham raises his gun towards Connor's head. He pauses, lowers the gun, and leaves.
All talk, no action.