[ He rubbed his thumb against his unshaven jaw, contemplative. Part of him thought to protest being marked as a sailor at all- though in a way it was perfectly true. He knew the Aquila from the tops of her canvas down to her bilges, absorbed every last shred of Faulkner's tutelage, and went on to captain a third-rate ship-of-the-line with remarkable success. All through Connor and the Animus, all of it imprinted on Desmond just as readily as those first instances of free-running had been.

He realized he hadn't responded, ]

I'll do my best to be useful. The sooner the greenhorns get more experience in, the better for us all.

[ A beat, then he added, with a quirk of his lips, because the only man he ever really called 'sir' was his father, and even that was sometimes a stretch, ] Sir.

What do you think about this gemstone we're supposed to find? Think it's legitimate?