He doesn't remember how he got here.
He doesn't really care. It's not important.
What is important is him. That man and the rage he feels from his people when he looks at him, calmly contained within his personality. After all, it's not gentlemanly to fly off in a rage at someone, now is it?
Not that the dirty, negro-loving Yank would care. He's just as bad as any of them, that man.
They lived in separate houses, obviously. He wouldn't spend time with that man to save his life. He would rather drink tea, peacefully talk to the governor and farmers, and perhaps steer the Confederacy in a new, peaceful direction. But that couldn't happen as long as that man was at his throat. It was really only a matter of time before he had to back down, before he'd be forced to back down by the superior of the two.
"An' who better t' catch sum Yank tail than me?"
Alfred woke up in a cold sweat, eyes wide as he stared at the ceiling. Just a dream, just a dream.
"Was it just a dream, Yank?"
Eyes shifted over to him; his pose relaxed, laid-back, his voice a gentle Virginian drawl, a self-assured smile on his face. The same face as the man in the bed. A face that wasn't supposed to be there.
"Am I just a dream, Yank? Y'sure yer feelin a'right?"
He walked closer as the man in the bed scooted back; catching him right now is a perfect opportunity. You don't get to catch your enemy sleeping very often.
"Ge-get away! You're not real! Th-This is all in my head, everything's fine—"
"All in yer head, Yank? Now tha' ain't right't all."
He moved closer; a slow pace, there's no need to rush. Everything will be fine, soon the Union will admit defeat and he-
"You really don't wanna come back, do you?"
It was a tired tone, one that caught him by surprise; he didn't show it, but he did blink and the smile on his face faded by the slightest amount.
"Bless your heart, ya really believe I liked ya, huh, Yank? Yer tirin', and ya ain't got a clue."
He watched the other man rub his neck and sigh, before the Union locking eyes in a straight-on challenge, his entire countenance resonating his seriousness, his voice low and challenging; words that brought a smile to the Confederacy's face lazily.
"Well if you don't wanna come back by yourself, I guess we'll just have to force you."
"Force me? Now, ain't that cute."
His head lifted up slightly as he looked down at Alfred, the Union, the other side to him that he wanted to be rid of.
"God bless ya with that, Yank."
