Aaron Burr watched the sun set on New York and heaved a silent sigh. It had been a long day of classes and he was looking forward to a quiet evening studying for the next day. He worked hard at his classes, but he seemed to have caught some of the restlessness that was pouring through the colonies. Tonight, he was having a hard time focusing.
Maybe what he needed was to get out of his room for a while. He brightened at the thought and gathered up the book he needed to read. Putting on his coat, he headed for the bar not far from the university. The light was better there than in his room anyway.
The moment he walked through the door, Burr knew he had made a mistake. He'd completely forgotten this bar was the favorite place for the so-called Revolutionaries to gather and drink and shout about how they were going to change things. Already, it looked like things were going to be a repeat of the other night, when he had inadvertently introduced the others to Hamilton.
Burr hoped to slide along the wall and find a corner where none of them would notice, but no such luck.
"Aaron Burr, sir," said a mildly slurring voice beside him.
"Alexander Hamilton," he replied as patiently as he could. "How are you?"
"We were just talking about the colonies and what needs to be done," Hamilton said, grinning at him. "Come and sit with us! We could use a level head like yours to put a polish on our plans!"
Hamilton tugged Burr to the table, surprisingly steady given the number of empty glasses on the table. They were greeted exuberantly by the other three: Lafayette, Mulligan, and Laurens, who had all been drinking a lot.
"Gentlemen," Burr greeted them and got pounded on the back for sitting next to Mulligan.
"Oh, Burr! You must tell us what to do," Lafayette exclaimed, his French accent coloring every word. It always seemed to thicken in moments of drunken excitement.
"I'll do my best, but I don't think I can help you men with much," Burr said, waving away the glass Hamilton shoved toward him.
"Oh, it's simple, mon amie, don't worry. We are sending this to the King and wanted your opinion!"
A sheet of parchment was shoved across the table and Burr noticed it had been liberally splashed with whatever the group was drinking. He was careful picking it up.
"'Your fatheaded Madjezty, greetings from the Revolution.' That's starting off a bit strong and you spelled majesty wrong. 'the colonys are Tired of taking orders. We quit. Love, us.'"
He looked at the group, hanging on his every word with somewhat blurry excitement.
"It needs some work," he said, hoping not to make them mad. Or sad, really. No one wanted a crying Frenchman no matter what time it was.
"You can help us, Burr!" Laurens cried and stole Hamilton's quill and ink to give to Burr. Hamilton shoved Laurens, who shoved him back and Mulligan reached over to make them stop.
Burr slipped away in the chaos and went back to his room. The light wasn't as good, but at least he would be able to read in peace. He didn't want anything to do with nasty letters to the King.