There was a flash of suspicion across Jacob's features before he had the good sense to smile back even as he looked harder at what he could see of the man's face under his hood. Edward Kenway, that was a name fairly well known to Jacob. He wasn't ever as good a student as his father would have liked, but the man had mentioned Kenway and his family, how his death a hundred years ago had started the decline of the Assassins in Britain, especially in London, something that hadn't been rectified until he and his twin had driven the Templars out of London. Jacob had seen his portrait, his weapons, the model of his ship, the hidden vault under his house. The old pirate was dead, very dead, yet here this man was looking eerily like his portraits in clothing that would have suited the time he claimed to come from.
He had to be an imposter, that was the only thing that came to Jacob, the alternative was too fantastical for his taste. All of that aside, which he might still be feeling the effects of the night of drinking he decided then that another drink really wouldn't go amiss.
"Right, you're from the Caribbean branch. We've heard of you." He said, keeping that smile on as he knew he wouldn't have been able to hide the recognition on his face when the Welshman had said his name. At least he wasn't claiming to be the Master Assassin of London, puffing his chest out and giving orders the way Jacob had always pictured him in the history his father had tried and mostly failed to teach him. "I am at your service. Any thoughts? This doesn't exactly feel like London, it smells too clean for one."