Hello! These first two chapters were written entirely by Rainlight2427, and everything else by me. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own Hamilton.
Elisabeth (Lissa for short) Adler was not having a good day. Not in the least. As if to accentuate this point, a drunken blonde man in a tattered coat smashed his glass against the table.
"Another!" he roared. Men were brutes, but drunken ones were savages. Lissa sighed and brought him a new drink.
"You're paying for that glass, you know," she told him. The man ignored her.
"Aaayyy, pretty laaady," slurred another, "a drink for my friend here..." He clapped yet another man on the shoulder. The new man looked slightly uncomfortable and stiff.
"I'm okay, thanks," he said quickly.
He's new to New York City, mused Lissa to herself, not many come down to this part of town to reject a drink.
There was another crash, and she winced and hurried over to the scene of disaster.
"My apologies," said the man in the red coat coldly. Lissa swore under her breath, but daren't ask for money for the shattered glass. She contented herself with cursing all redcoats and King George III under her breath. Ever since the redcoats had been quartered at her father's tavern, quality of life had run rapidly downhill.
The door swung open. Lissa grit her teeth and forced her lips into a passable smile to greet the newcomer. The smile instantly turned into a grimace when she heard who it was.
"A y-yo, y-yo, yo: what time is it?" shouted a gleeful voice
"Laurens," she said, forcing her the corners of her mouth into a smile again, "it's nice to see you. Don't you even think about climbing the tables again. You know what will happen."
He ignored her. Two more figures appeared in the doorway. "SHOWTIME!" they shouted just as gleefully back.
Lissa massaged her temples. What a day.
One of the men leaned over and whispered in another's ear; "Like I said..."
Laurens ignored him. "Showtime, showtime, yo! I'm John Laurens in the place to BE! A-two pints of Sam Adams, but I'm workin' on three!"
Someone snorted at this. John Laurens never, ever, had gotten to three. He ignored them. ("He has rather selective hearing doesn't he?" Lissa had asked upon meeting him. Everyone had ignored her.)
"Those redcoats don't want it with me, 'cause I will pah-chica-pah, chica-pah these Scots 'til I'm free!"
A group of men in the corner began muttering amongst themselves, slightly menacingly. They were interrupted by a man with crazy hair and a French accent. He climbed onto the table and began sing-shout at the top of his lungs.
"Eh oui, oui, mon ami, je 'mappelle Lafayette! The—"
Lissa shoved him with all her might (which, discouragingly enough, seemed to make no difference). "Off the table! NOW!"
Without stopping his song thing (Lissa didn't know what to call it) he climbed gracefully down to finish his last phrase.
"I came from afar to say bonsoir to the king, 'casse toi' who's the best? C'est moi."
Lissa glared at him. "Stay off the tables." she growled. He waved her off to watch the last man's part.
"Brrah! Brrah! I am Hercules Mulligan up in it, lovin' it, yes I heard your mother say 'come again!' Lock your daughters and horses; of course, it's hard to have intercourse over four sets of corsets!" yelled Mulligan. Lissa felt her eye twitch.
"Wow," muttered someone.
"No more sex—"
"Liar," muttered someone else.
"No more sex," repeated Laurens, slightly annoyed. "Pour me another brew, son, let's raise a couple more to the Revolution!"
The group of whispering men in the corner rose. Lissa slammed down a new glass for Laurens.
"Wrong. Gender." she snapped. He looked a little guilty, but not too guilty.
"Uhh...Well if it ain't the prodigy of Princeton college!" He recovered quickly.
"Aaron Burr!" chimed in Mulligan.
"Give us a verse, drop some knowledge!"
Burr sniffed. "Good luck with that, you're taking a stand! You spit, I'mma sit. We'll see were we land."
The others booed him.
Lissa wondered if they somehow coordinated their rhyming songs beforehand.
"Burr, the Revolution's imminent; what do you stall for?" protested Laurens.
Burr's friend (not much older than Lissa, really) spoke up, albeit slightly timidly, "If you stand for nothing Burr, what do you fall for?"
He was instantly surrounded. "Who are you?" asked Laurens.
"Who are you?" asked Mulligan.
"Who are you?" asked Lafayette.
Lissa felt a headache begin to throb.
One of the men in the corner stood and made his way to the group that was loudly proclaiming their independence from Britain.
Lissa really hoped he wouldn't start a fight.
He towered over Laurens, Mulligan, and Lafayette. And Burr's friend, too, because Burr had conveniently disappeared after his warning.
"So," said the man slowly, "we have here three patriots and a Frenchman," he laughed. "I wonder what they are up to, eh?"
Lissa kept a wary eye on them, frying pan at the ready.
The rest of the men stepped behind the challenger, outnumbering the tiny revolutionary crew. Burr's friend (Lissa really needed to found out what his real name was) glared at them. The first man grabbed his collar. Burr's friend punched him in the jaw and all hell broke loose. Lissa hurried over.
"What is going on?" she demanded as they all paused a moment to take in the new potential threat. "If this is only a misunderstanding, take it outside." She reinforced this by smacking her palm with her cast iron frying pan. Lissa hoped that this would work, because if she could't intimidate all of them to get out, she would have no way to stop a tussle.
The man in redcoat stepped up to her. "I would stay out of this," he advised, not unkindly.
"Thank you, but I will see no drunken brawl in my father's tavern." she replied stiffly, and turned back to the adversaries.
To her relief, they two parties glared at each other and retreated. Maybe her day would get better after all.
Looking back, Lissa should have known better than to tempt Fate.