Desmond busied himself with the in-flight magazine, trying to ignore the Assassin/Templar Mile High Club meeting in the bathroom a few rows behind him. He really wished he could stop thinking things like, I can barely fit in there alone, or Wonder what position they're using, or I bet she's standing on the toilet, or Hope they locked their blades in place before they started. Such thoughts were wrong, and wicked, and dammit, she was screaming this time. He shrunk down in his seat, reading about headphones so expensive you could probably run a drug cartel for less.
They kept going.
In frustration, Desmond pulled out his ipod and began to make a new playlist. He added all the cheesy love songs that Shaun had downloaded from his own computer as a prank. (Rebecca's music collection was much better, a fact that eluded Shaun.) Smirking, he saved the playlist. It sounded like a rom-com set in a supermarket. Next time he saw Aveline or Shay, they were going to suffer. (As if airplane bathrooms weren't suffering enough.)
Once upon a time, Desmond's life had made sense. Now he couldn't even illegally watch an episode of Walking Dead without his pirate ancestor blubbering all over him when the girls started singing.
Desmond was on a strict ration of Animus sessions, although he routinely ignored that, intent on working through Connor's memories in time to prevent the end of the world. But sometimes it got to be too much, and he needed to relieve the pressure before, as Shaun put it, "his itty bitty brain went squirting out his abnormally shaped ears." He discovered Rebecca's Star Wars movie collection one such night, and settled in for the classic trilogy.
Halfway through The Empire Strikes Back, he became aware that Haytham was watching the movie as well. He braced himself for a flood of questions, but his ancestor seemed to take the onscreen action at face value. Until a certain scene, when Desmond was embarrassed to discover that he was descended from someone who talked through movies.
"Obviously the hero's father is still alive," Haytham said snidely.
"Is that so?" Desmond asked, annoyed.
"Yes, he's the man in the mask. They're on opposite sides and our hero is going to be crushed when he finds out. His whole world will be shaken."
Desmond gritted his teeth. "I don't remember you talking this much in the theater last time."
"Of course not; I was assassinating someone."
Desmond rolled his eyes. "Almost wish you would, so I could watch in peace."
"I'm willing to bet the hero's mother died horribly when he was very young. And he'll reach some kind of peace with his father, but," his lip curled, "his father will die, and he'll feel simply awful about it, but it'll be too late then, won't it?"
"Stop talking about yourself already."
They watched in silence until the end of the movie.
"I told you so."
"Shut up."
"I bet the man in the mask dies in the next one."
"Go fuck yourself. Just don't make me watch."
Desmond stared down at Agaté's body. "Seriously? That's what he was all about? What a... what a second-rate Snape."
Aveline had no idea what he meant, but she was warmed; he was angry on her behalf and that's what counted.
It almost made up for the music he'd made her endure.
Desmond introduced Connor to YouTube, which was a mistake that led to four hours of his short life being spent watching televised lacrosse and adorable puppies.
Steering the Aquila was hard enough. Steering it with Haytham backseat driving Connor was even worse. When Haytham also visited and started backseat driving Desmond, that was simply intolerable.
It also gave Rebecca conniption fits. "Where's this second track of Haytham coming from? Is your DNA crimped or something, Desmond? I'm going to check for T-T sequences real quick."
"There's nothing wrong with my DNA!" he insisted.
"Shall I list what's wrong with your piloting?" Haytham asked, loud and clear over the Animus speakers.
"He can't even be saying anything now!" she practically wailed. "You're not even hooked up! What's going on?"
Desmond couldn't wait for the inevitable day when Connor would kill his father. He'd never wanted to kill a Templar so badly. Haytham was currently describing every sandbar Desmond had run into, every broadside that missed completely, every time he'd lowered the sails when he meant to raise them, and that time the Aquilahad done a vertical 360 off a rogue wave. (Desmond was pretty sure that was an Animus physics glitch. Although it was pretty cool.)
As Haytham was describing the humiliating time Desmond had desynchronized by accidentally having Connor climb in front of a firing cannon, Desmond hooked his foot around the power cord and yanked sharply. What a relief to be the only one that could hear his ancestor's complaints.
"Really, Desmond?" his father asked, disappointed. "Right in front of the cannon? Are you trying to fail?"
... except, of course, for that ancestor.
"So this is New Orleans," Desmond said, crouched beside Aveline on the rooftop. "It's not Mardi Gras, is it?"
She looked at him oddly. "No, why do you ask?"
"In my time, Mardi Gras in New Orleans is supposed to be amazing. A huge parade, debauchery, awesome food, the world's biggest party. I've never been." He sounded wistful. "Tell you what, after the world is saved and everything, I'm gonna go to New Orleans for Mardi Gras 2013. And you have to visit me then!"
She smiled just as if she hadn't seen him die the day before. "I'll make sure of it."
"Who ordered all the Italian porn?" Rebecca asked, bringing back supplies from the nearby town. "Guys, we're supposed to be hiding here. This was waiting at the town post office."
"Would you believe it was Ezio?" Desmond asked tiredly.
"Oh yes, Desmond, we would totally believe that. And you know what else? That's not at all a sign that you're going crazy," Shaun sniped.
"Ezio is a perve," Desmond insisted. "Amazon doesn't deliver to the Renaissance so I have to be his porn mule."
"Just don't conceal it in your bodily cavities," Rebecca advised.