Adams' Greatest Contribution

Chapter One

Disclaimer: I do not own 1776.

Note: This is a two-shot.

Thursday May 9, 1776

John Adams, the only representative from Massachusetts who could be counted on to attend Congress every day, wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. Lee had left for the House of Burgesses not an hour before (after he made a quick stop home) and that was 300 miles away. In his experience, that meant that the trip would take eight days both ways although given that Lee's defining characteristic was enthusiasm, it was entirely possible that he could shave some time off that estimate. Still, to be on the conservative side for once he'd factor in sixteen days travel time, one day with his wife, and then at least another four to convince the House of Burgesses to give him a nice non-Bostonian resolution on Independence.

Three weeks. At best, Adams had to wait three weeks before the matter of independence could be brought up again.

Now, while promising that he wouldn't bring the controversial subject up until Lee's return to give the Congressmen some time to disassociate independence from Adams himself didn't necessarily mean remaining silent at Congress, Adams felt that it was probably a good idea to keep his speech to a minimum. After all, he did feel very passionately about the issue – to put it mildly – and it would be difficult not to bring it up when his fellow Congressmen clearly had nothing better to do than engage in a lively debate about whether or not the heat was worse than the flies. Not to mention, of course, that he didn't really have much to say about such trivial matters as that or whether the Rhode Island militia should be required to wear matching uniforms.

Franklin didn't think he could do it and even now was smirking at him but he'd show him. He was capable of some self-control, after all, whatever Franklin or the others thought.

"Now, due to more pressing matters last night we forewent the vote on General Washington's request," Hancock announced. "All those in favor…"

Good god.

Friday May 10, 1776

Adams had survived one day of valiantly resisting the impulse to knock heads together until his fellow began to see sense but he knew he'd have plenty more before this was done. Lee had better come through for them.

One thing that staying quiet seemed to be doing was affording him the opportunity to notice things he never had before. Usually he spent his time in Congress arguing with everything Dickinson said (and vice versa, of course) and fighting the strange urge to strangle Rutledge but now that he was trying to stay uninvolved and the discussion was much less contentious now that he wasn't bringing up the real issues, he could pay more attention to what everyone else was doing. Admittedly, normally he would have better things to do but since for the next few weeks he sadly didn't…

"Well?" Livingston asked, not sounding very hopeful.

Morris merely shook his head.

"Still? It's been…why it's been exactly a year today since Congress convened!" Livingston exclaimed.

"I know but are you really surprised?" Morris returned.

Livingston sighed. "No, I suppose not. It's actually a minor miracle that the legislature managed to get it together long enough to send us to this Congress in the first place."

"Refusing to let them leave until they had picked someone might have been a little, shall we say, drastic but it also worked wonders," Morris remarked. "It almost makes you wish that someone would have the sense to do that again and get us some actual instructions."

"I know," Livingston agreed. "Every time there's a vote, our lack of instructions causes problems. What's more, I'm getting the distinct feeling that our fellow Congressmen are beginning to lose their patience."

"Well, what are we supposed to do?" Morris demanded. "It's not like we're abstaining from any important vote just to annoy them. We haven't been authorized to vote yes, we haven't been authorized to vote no, and we haven't been authorized to vote according to our own convictions."

"My wife's expecting soon," Livingston announced. "Within the next month or so I should be returning to New York to see her and the child. I can stop by the legislature and see if they really don't have even the slightest bit of advice for us then."

"Good idea," Morris said approvingly. "If nothing else, it will be a lot harder to ignore your request when you're standing right there waiting for an answer than it is to ignore one of our dozens of missives."

"But if anyone can do it, the New York legislature can," Livingston pointed out. "Or they'll all try to offer their advice at once and I won't be able to hear any of them."

"So we'd be instruction-less either way," Morris mused. "While this isn't exactly unusual behavior for the legislature, I think they may actually have a reason they're avoiding giving us anything concrete."

Livingston raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh?"

Morris nodded. "Indeed. The British fleet is nearby and last we heard, Washington's army was close to New York as well. They probably don't want to provoke an attack."

"I think you may be right," Livingston conceded. "That doesn't really help us out here, though. Honestly, we might as well not even be here if we can't contribute."

"What do you think it would be like to be representing one of the other colonies?" Morris asked wistfully. "Any of them, really."

They were silent for a moment as they imagined it.

"One thing I do know is that if we keep abstaining – which we will – then one of these days someone is going to hit us," Livingston predicted.

"Perhaps I shall start abstaining courteously," Morris mused.

Saturday May 11, 1776

It was day three and with any luck Lee was halfway to Virginia by now…assuming he hadn't felt the need to stop and pontificate about his family while amusing himself by working as many adverbs into the speech as possible, which was always a worry with him. Lee meant well but he could just be so easily distracted sometimes.

Hopkins had been at the rum again. Really, the Congressional rum stores might as well have been Rhode Island's rum stores that the other colonies occasionally were given leave to partake of. Adams never did during sessions as he was fighting an uphill battle and needed to be at his best. Hopkins might have been firmly on the side of independence but he knew that there were others to do most of the arguing for him and didn't seem to care a whit what anyone thought of him anyway. That was a very useful viewpoint though Adams doubted he would ever be able to really adopt it.

"So Ben, what is the story?" Hopkins asked idly.

Franklin, who had been pretending to be asleep, opened one eye. "What story?"

"The story about Johnny there and Hancock," Hopkins elaborated. "I know that now Johnny annoys the living daylights out of him but didn't they use to be friends? Or was that his cousin?"

"Why don't you go ask one of them?" Franklin suggested. "It's always best to get these things straight from the source."

"I would but Hancock's in the middle of something and you can't just ask a man why he's so obnoxious and disliked," Hopkins said matter-of-factly. "In any event, if he knew he probably wouldn't be."

Oh, Franklin was enjoying this very much, wasn't he?

"Well, Hancock was the protégé of Sam Adams," Franklin explained. "But he did know John as well who, I believe, defended him from charges of unloading 100 pipes of wine without paying duties."

"Wine, huh?" Hopkins repeated.

Franklin nodded. "Indeed. Had he been convicted, he would have had to pay a penalty of £9,000…triple the cost of the wine. After five months, however, the charges were mysteriously dropped."

"Isn't that just typical? Wasting everyone's time like that," Hopkins said, disgusted. "So you'd think they'd be on pretty good terms after that."

"For awhile," Franklin agreed. "But then, well…"

"Well?" Hopkins prompted.

"Hancock wanted Washington's job," Franklin continued, "and Adams was the one who nominated Washington."

"What, so being president of Congress wasn't enough?" Hopkins asked, surprised.

Franklin shrugged. "Apparently not. I don't understand it myself as I'd much rather be in here than on the battlefield and if General Washington's dispatches are any indication, so would he. Hancock understands, of course, that Washington was the only one of us with any military experience and that he wasn't from New England so choosing him made it look less like New England's war but he's never quite forgiven Adams for it."

"Tough break," Hopkins said before he stood to go get some more rum.

Monday May 13, 1776

There hadn't been a session of Congress yesterday and Adams made up for his previous silence by talking a great deal then. It wasn't really that he had much to say not on the subject of independency, but keeping still was simply not in his nature.

Apparently, he hadn't been the only one to notice this.

"Mr. Adams, I do hate to pry but it occurs to me that you've been unusually quiet recently and it would be most ungentlemanly not to inquire as to whether or not you are alright," Rutledge declared. It wasn't actually an inquiry, Adams noted, but it would probably be treated like one.

"I'm fine," he said shortly.

"Now that he mentions it, you have been awfully quiet these past few days," Dickinson realized. "I hadn't noticed because we were actually being productive but now that I think on it, that may be why. What do you think, James?"

"Well, I-" Wilson started to reply.

As usual, Dickinson's question had mostly been to give him the excuse to say something about Adams or independency without talking to himself or addressing Adams personally. "I do so hope that when you regain your health, our productivity will not decline accordingly."

"There is nothing wrong with my health," Adams snapped.

"Are you sure, Johnny?" Hopkins asked, looking vaguely concerned as he downed another rum. "Because if you're not then I can always refer you to one of them doctors people are always sending my way for whatever reason."

"If I need one, I'll let you know," Adams promised.

"I might need one," Franklin murmured. "It never hurts to have too many opinions, after all, and if any of them can do something about this swelling then I'll consider it money well-spent."

"Mr. Adams, to settle this once and for all: you have shown up for Congress every day since it's been called into session and surely missing one day won't be the end of the world," Hancock said reasonably. "Are you feeling ill or can we move on?"

"I'm fine," Adams insisted. Honestly, he'd been trying to hold his tongue for half a week and people were trying to figure out what was wrong with him.

Franklin smiled knowingly.

Tuesday May 14, 1776

No one said anything about his health today although he did get a few strange glances. Adams' own strange glances were reserved for when Judge Wilson left the Pennsylvania table and moved over to the Virginia delegation at one point. As Lee had left, Jefferson was the only man there and he had been staring at the same spot on the opposite wall, barely blinking, for three hours. It was clear he wasn't listening and it was equally apparent that Wilson didn't notice, didn't care, or both.

As it was, Adams was probably – depending on whether or not Franklin was really asleep or just pretending again – the only one who was paying the slightest bit of attention now. Adams had always thought that Franklin's preference to watching things happen in the background was odd but now he was certain of it. Less than a week in and he was bored out of his mind already and Franklin did this intentionally? All the time?

"Don't get me wrong," Wilson was telling the oblivious Jefferson earnestly. "I know just how important I am…or at least my position. Dr. Franklin is one of the leaders for the independence movement even if being from an anti-independence colony weakens his position and John is the leader for the anti-independence movement. It's up to me to decide where Pennsylvania will fall."

Adams hadn't really given that much thought but he supposed that Wilson was right. He would certainly be easier to win over than Dickinson at any rate.

"I'm not really comfortable with that kind of responsibility but only four colonies are in favor of independence so it's not like it's too important. Besides, John always knows best," Wilson said, sounding like he was trying to convince himself. "It's just…sometimes I get the feeling he doesn't always appreciate me."

If the way Jefferson was still staring vacantly in front of him was any indication, he was appreciating Wilson infinitely less than Dickinson ever did.

"I mean, it's fine when we're alone," Wilson said defensively. "But when we're in front of other people, and especially when we're here, he seems almost embarrassed by me. Granted, I should probably make a bigger effort to remember that I cannot second his motions and that if any motions our side needs seconding for can be seconded by John but it's not just that. He asks me all sorts of questions and then whenever I try to answer he cuts me off and keeps talking. If he didn't want to hear my opinion, why did he even ask me in the first place?"

Still, Jefferson said nothing.

"I don't think he means to be or anything, he just gets a little caught up in his role as leader of the reconciliation movement." Wilson sighed. "You're a good listener, Mr. Jefferson. Thank you for not judging."

Wednesday May 15, 1776

Pennsylvania wasn't the only delegation divided but they were positively harmonious compared to the Delaware delegation which was going at it again. Rodney's illness kept him from getting too worked up even if he wanted to but Colonel McKean certainly didn't have that problem and Read always allowed himself to be baited.

"Why do you keep seconding everything Dickinson proposes?" McKean demanded.

"Because Judge Wilson cannot do it no matter how many times he tries and Rutledge thought it would be only gentlemanly of me to do what I can to support their cause since I cannot vote for them," Read declared.

"Too right you can't," McKean growled, hoisting his gun up.

Read eyed it nervously. "Are you…are you threatening me?" He turned to Rodney. "He's threatening me!"

Rodney glanced over to see McKean fiddling with his firearm. "It doesn't look like he's threatening you."

"How can it not look like he's threatening me?" Read demanded. "He told me I wasn't going to be able to vote according to my wishes and then he held up his gun!"

"It's a coincidence," Rodney assured him. "He's just pointing out the facts that, as Colonel McKean and I are agreed and you are opposed, you won't get to decide Delaware's vote."

"And the gun?" Read pressed.

"Colonel McKean is very attached to it, right?" Rodney prompted.

McKean nodded. "Oh, yes. If you want an effective firearm then you're going to need to make sure that it's well-maintained and proper maintenance takes time. Since we spend so much time here in Congress, why not work on it here?"

"So you're really denying that you're threatening me," Read said skeptically.

McKean nodded. "Oh, absolutely. I am most certainly not tempted to shoot you whenever you second one of Dickinson's motions just so that you stop making us look bad and so that Rutledge would have to actually commit to something for once."

Read stared at McKean and, more specifically, his lethal weapon in horror before turning back to Rodney. "Did you hear that?"

"Now what's the problem?" Rodney queried. "He just said that he didn't think any of that."

Thursday May 16, 1776

Including the day he had left, it had now been eight days since Lee had departed. At best, he was at home with his wife right now. There was a little over half of the time to go and while Adams was seriously reconsidering if it was worth it, he had come too far now to give up so easily…even if the one of the people he was currently listening to was the smug snake Rutledge himself.

"All these men complaining about the heat," Hewes was scoffing. "I'd like to see one of them try to survive a good old-fashioned southern summer."

Rutledge nodded and elegantly fanned himself. "It is most ungentlemanly to complain about the weather. Rather, they should put on a stoic face and get down to business."

"I just don't understand these northerners," Hewes said, shaking his head sadly. "They're never very concerned with gentlemanly behavior."

"It's not that some aren't concerned with it," Rutledge corrected. "Mr. Read from Delaware, for instance, was very interested when we spoke earlier. They just haven't been taught proper gentlemanly conduct, is all, and we must endeavor to correct this wherever we are able."

Predictably, Hewes nodded his agreement. "Oh, of course. To think, if we can help spread knowledge of gentlemanly conduct among this Congress than there may be hope for our sister colonies yet."

Rutledge nodded. "For some of them, perhaps. For others…well, I can just tell from their general appearance and from their manner that we're a few decades too late."

"Is it gentlemanly to feel sorry that they will never be able to become true gentlemen no matter how hard they strive for it?" Hewes wondered.

Adams rolled his eyes. This was easily one of the most insipid conversations he'd had the misfortune of observing for quite some time and it just further proved that Hewes blindly followed Rutledge…as if the way that he continually yielded to him whenever a vote came up didn't already make that perfectly obvious. One of these days, Hancock was going to get tired of the constant and inevitable yielding and just put South Carolina above North Carolina in the order.

Rutledge smiled kindly. "It most certainly is gentlemanly to feel compassion for those less fortunate than yourself. Have hope, though: usually those most ill-equipped to become gentlemen are those least inclined to try."

Hewes nodded solemnly at this sagacity.

Oh, good God.

Friday May 17, 1776

By now, with any luck, Lee was in Williamsburg convincing the Virginia legislature to pass a resolution on independency. Virginia was in support of independency, of course, but there must be a reason they had not formally passed a resolution to this effect before and Adams didn't know if Lee would be able to convince them to stop playing it safe and to take a stand. He seemed very sure of himself, of course, but would that be enough? And how much help would someone who couldn't get through an adverb without making a pun be, anyway? Either way, there hadn't been enough time for Lee to make it back yet and so he'd just have to wait. But by God, if Lee returned in failure after what Adams had suffered and would continue to suffer then he would be better off staying in Williamsburg.

"Is Georgia even coming?" Hancock wondered. "They didn't attend the first Congress. Are we positive that they're planning on making an appearance here?"

"We in South Carolina received word that they were planning on sending a delegation," Rutledge confirmed. "And it would be most ungentlemanly for Georgia to break their word like that, especially without letting everyone know. As they are from the Deep South, I know that we can count on them to behave in a most gentlemanly manner."

"Most certainly," Hewes concurred.

It occurred to Adams that he was almost Rutledge's Wilson.

"Is it 'gentlemanly' to arrive so late?" Hancock countered. "And without, as you said, letting everyone know why?"

Rutledge didn't seem to hear the question.

"And then, of course, New Jersey is still absent. Do we know anything about that?" Hancock demanded.

Bartlett spoke up. "It could be that they're having trouble with their royal governor. I hear he's fervently opposed to our meeting."

Franklin discretely gave Hopkins a nudge and the latter immediately began calling for more rum.

Saturday May 18, 1776

Adams had discovered that writing letters was one way to make the time that he was wasting in Congress NOT attempting to advance the cause of independency go much faster. Franklin had suggested that he simply not attend if it were bothering him so much (not that Adams had admitted as much but somehow Franklin always knew) but Adams just couldn't bring himself to do that. It was deeply unprofessional to just skip a day when he had no valid reason to do so and he suspected that Dickinson would try something nefarious the moment he wasn't here to stop him.

"I must say," Livingston remarked to Sherman, "that I do so admire your ability to get out of having to ever write anything."

"Thank you," Sherman said modestly. "It's really not very difficult, though."

"What is your secret?" Livingston wondered aloud. "Or would it ruin it if you told me?"

"It's not really a secret, exactly," Sherman said with a shrug. "I just remind them that I've had no formal education. Think about everyone here. They've studied at Harvard, at William and Mary, from Middle Temple…If you remind them of your lack of formal education then they start to get nervous and realize that they actually wanted to write whatever it was you don't want to write after all."

"I suppose that could work," Livingston said thoughtfully. "Not for me, of course, because I attended King's College."

"It's not always a guarantee," Sherman cautioned. "I mean, Dr. Franklin received maybe a year of formal education and yet good luck convincing someone that he's not capable of writing something."

"I suppose you have a point," Livingston agreed. "But what if you actually do want to write something?"

"Well, I haven't yet," Sherman replied. "And if I do then I won't be able to use my 'I can't do it' excuse anymore. But if I did I could always show them a sample of my writing or just not remind them of fact that most of my education was informal."

"I wonder if I have anything that could get me out of having to write something," Livingston mused.

"Didn't you say that your wife was pregnant?" Sherman queried.

Livingston blinked. "Indeed, she is. Why would that matter?"

"There are all sorts of reasons you could have to go before the baby is born and even afterwards at a moment's notice," Sherman declared. "Here, I'll help you think of some…"

Monday May 20, 1776

If he were fortunate, today Lee had almost finished up in Williamsburg and was going to be heading back to Philadelphia soon enough…provided that he didn't stop to see his wife again or get caught up in a stirring speech about how he was going to hurry back and deliver the resolution without actually making any move to leave.

"You know," Chase remarked in between bites of whatever it was that he was eating. "It has occurred to me that it's been nearly two weeks now since Adams has said more than a handful of words."

Good God, not this again! It had only been a week since the last time they had gotten concerned.

"I hadn't noticed," Dickinson claimed. "But you're right: last week was probably the most productive week we'd ever had. I had thought that we were just trying to keep our mind off the heat wave but now that you mention it, it could just be the lack of New England noise."

If Adams managed to remain silent, it was only because he had happened to catch Franklin's unimpressed expression. Clearly Franklin didn't think that he could refrain from answering Dickinson and getting into another fight and accidentally bringing up independence, did he? Well, he would show him. The word 'independence' had not been heard in the chambers since that day Wilson had monologue at Jefferson.

"Hm…" Hancock studied Adams. "He looks okay but this is quite an unusual phenomenon."

"Oh, you know Johnny," Hopkins said dismissively. "He'd never admit to being sick if he's got something he thinks is more important to do."

"Mr. Hopkins is right," Rutledge spoke up. "And so I call for a vote to see if we should send Mr. Adams home so that he might recuperate."

"A vote?" Hancock asked, surprised.

Rutledge nodded. "Yes, he will not go voluntarily and if he really is the patriot that he claims to be then he will have to accept the decision of this Congress."

"I do not need to be sent home," Adams grated.

"That is for the Congress to decide," Rutledge said. He looked pointedly at Read who stood up. Before Read could speak, however, someone beat him to the punch.

"I second the motion!" Wilson all but shouted.

"Pennsylvania cannot second its own-" Hancock began automatically before stopping. Stunned, he continued, "But it can second South Carolina's. Very well. Mr. Thompson?"

Tuesday May 21, 1776

Adams had only very narrowly avoided being sent home the previous day. That traitor Franklin had been in favor of it (it was for his own good apparently) but Dickinson had surprisingly stepped in and voted to keep him there…which had almost made Adams want to go home after all until he realized that that was probably Dickinson's nefarious plan to get him out of Congress so he could do something else equally nefarious!

"Adams," Dickinson declared – and almost gave the eavesdropping Adams a heart attack – "is up to something."

"Really?" Wilson asked, blinking.

Dickinson nodded. "Really. He tried to rally us all to support his treason on May 8th and now he hasn't said a word outside of trying to assure us that he's fine."

"So you're suspicious of Mr. Adams because he isn't doing anything?" Wilson asked, confused.

"It does sound a little farfetched," Dickinson admitted. "But did you see those letters he keeps writing? It has to mean something. No one has that much to say to their wife. And do we really want to allow ourselves to be lulled into a false sense of security only to have him reveal his incendiary plan when we least suspect it?"

Just because Dickinson apparently had so little to say to his own wife that was in the same colony as him was no reason to think that he couldn't think of plenty to write to Abigail. In fact, his hand often began to cramp up before he was able to finish everything he wanted to say to her.

Wilson waited a moment to see if Dickinson was really looking for an answer. "No?" he finally ventured once it appeared that he was. Dickinson continued to say nothing and so he felt secure enough to continue with, "After all-"

"No, indeed," Dickinson promptly interrupted. "I, for one, will not lower my guard no matter how quiet he is…although I do hope that it is for a few more days, at least, as it's nice to be able to leave a session of Congress without a headache."

Adams was clenching his fists so hard to avoid saying anything that he began to draw blood.

"But, John, what exactly do you think he's trying to do?" Wilson inquired.

Dickinson hesitated. "I'm…not quite sure. Maybe he hopes to keep quiet about independency for so long that they'll stop associating him with it and be more open to supporting it?"

Wilson laughed. "He'd need to keep quiet for a good long while, then…"

Dickinson grinned. "And in the meantime, think of all we'll get done!"

Adams did so dislike him.

Wednesday May 22, 1776

Despite how 'productive' Dickinson insisted they were being (and by Adams' standards, they really weren't), Adams was really starting to wish that Congress didn't meet six days out of the week.

Franklin had been fortunate to approach Jefferson right after he had given the daily weather report and thus was actually guaranteed to be paying attention. Adams found it a bit alarming how easily the man could lose focus. Alarmed and a little envious, honesty, given his current predicament.

"Being from Pennsylvania myself, I don't have to worry about the problems other people are having with missing their homes," Franklin remarked. "I did spend a great many years in London but, well, that's hardly a hospitable location today."

"No, I imagine it wouldn't be," Jefferson said dryly.

"Like I was saying, I'm not far from home but Virginia is over 200 miles away," Franklin continued. "And you've been to every Congress session for…why, I don't even remember. Months!"

Jefferson frowned. "Now that I think of it, you're right. I went home for Christmas and came back after the beginning of the year…I haven't been home these five and a half months."

"Oh, that is awhile," Franklin told him. "And you're so young…are you married?"

Jefferson nodded. "To the most wonderful woman in the world," he said dreamily. "I really should go and see her…"

"When? Now?" Franklin inquired.

Jefferson looked torn. "I want to but Lee already went back two weeks ago and I can't leave the Congress without a representative from Virginia."

"You could always go when he gets back," Franklin suggested.

"That is an idea," Jefferson said, pleased. "I just hope it won't be too much longer."

"Out of curiosity, what is your wife's name?" Franklin asked, trying to sound casually.

Jefferson saw right through him. "Mrs. Jefferson."

Thursday May 23, 1776

Adams was quite surprised to look up and spy Franklin at the Pennsylvania table for once. He usually sat in a corner, supposedly for the sake of his foot and so he could observe in peace. Personally, Adams thought he might have been a bit embarrassed that he was part of the delegation that led the fight against independence when he was so strong an advocate as to even being alienated from his own son because of it. His own loyalist son, granted, but his son all the same. Dickinson wasn't at the table but Wilson was.

"I just find it remarkable, really," Franklin declared.

Wilson eyed him suspiciously. "What do you find so remarkable, doctor?"

"What?" Franklin asked, looking for all the world like he hadn't expected to have been overheard by the person he was sitting right next to. "Oh, don't mind me."

"No, I insist," Wilson said monotonously after it became clear that Franklin was waiting for him to prompt him.

"Well, I was just thinking about the recent votes we've taken and how in every single one your opinions has perfectly lined up with that of Mr. Dickinson's," Franklin explained.

"What's so remarkable about that?" Wilson asked warily.

"I just find it unusual for two people to be so in harmony," Franklin told him. "I mean, for the big issues then yes I can see why you'd have already talked about it but for the smaller things? Things like whether Mr. Hopkins should be kept from the rum, whether the Rhode Island militia should wear matching uniforms, and even whether our dear Mr. Adams should go home and rest?"

"What are you getting at?" Wilson demanded.

Franklin shrugged, looking innocent. "Nothing, nothing. I just would have expected that since Mr. Dickinson and I tend to disagree and you are the one who decides which side Pennsylvania will side with you might need to be consulted once in awhile. If it's the case that you two are so attuned to each other that this is unnecessary-"

"It is," Wilson interrupted, which didn't often happen (both Wilson interrupting someone and Dr. Franklin being cut off himself). "Now, I beg your pardon but I do have something pressing to do over here..." He quickly stood up and made his way to the opposite side of the room.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," Franklin lied.

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