Warning! Racist abounds in this here. After all, this is Colonial America...
Mathias wasn't entirely sure what to think when he first saw the scene.
He was sitting on his porch, sipping a cup of tea and waiting for his wife to get back from her outing with her friends. It was a pleasant day, and all his work was over, all his chores done, and for once he was just content on relaxing on the front porch in his chair until his Lila came home, and they could retire to the living room and cuddle (it was nice not having kids yet). He was going to surprise her with a trip to the tailor for a new dress. He was going to kiss her and smile as he told her about his pay raise.
Of course, now it seemed as if he had more interesting things to tell her. Things perfect for women to talk about. Gossipy women would love this. It was impossible for them not to talk about.
There was a redskin running away from Haytham Kenway, who looked absolutely, positively soaked to the bone.
And running quite quickly, but Haytham was no slowpoke. It was quite an odd chase. There was, at most, a meter between them, broken only when the Indian would roll just to the side to avoid Haytham's weapon.
Upon closer look, Mathias decided the weapon wasn't really a weapon at all.
It was a bar of soap.
And from the looks of it (they had one just like it, probably from the same maker), an extremely powerful bar of soap.
Of course, Mathias couldn't really make out dirt on the man's skin.
But of course, he was Indian.
Which made him wonder why Haytham was chasing a redskin with a bar of soap.
And then Mathias realized that the Indian was naked.
Buck naked, as a matter of fact.
His wife was going to love this.
And Haytham was shouting obscenities at the poor man, waving the soap around and trying to terrify the poor, naked man scrambling up onto the rooftops.
SO naturally, Mathias had to step into the street to watch this. They were on the outskirts of the city-they must have been running for quite some time to get here from Haytham's house.
And then Mathias blushed, because the poor man being chased was huge.
Maybe he wouldn't tell his wife everything about it. A few white lies wouldn't hurt. Especially not in the bedroom-type details.
Nevertheless, Mathias had never heard some of the insults Haytham was spouting, screaming like a banshee as he ran with the soap after the boy, who was running like a bat out of Hell.
God help the poor boy. He looked terrified.
He watched as the boy jumped from the end of the roof and rolled onto the dirt, Haytham starting up a whole new line of colorful and inventive cursing that would probably have his ancestors rolling in their graves. This was not the Haytham Mathias was used to talking to. Still, the boy kept running, down the street and into the woods, and still, Haytham kept chasing him, down the street and into the woods.
Mathias blinked as he processed what happened. It wasn't something that he had ever seen before. The poor Indian would be traumatized if Haytham caught him. He made the sign of the cross and shook his head.
"Dear? Mathias, dear, what's wrong?"
He turned to look at his wife, staring at her blankly for a little while before he blinked rapidly and opened his mouth to speak. He closed it shortly after, shaking his head again.
"God save the Indians," he muttered, going over to kiss his wife hello.