Two months. It had been two months since General Washington's run in with the young man known as "Alfred", who was, apparently, the United States of America personified. It took a little while for the general to come to truly accept what the young man was telling him, and he was still attempting to adjust to...well, everything.

For starters, Alfred had such a voracious appetite that Washington wondered if he might eat his way through all of the rations set aside for the army. It felt like he was witnessing the start of an obesity epidemic two centuries in the making.

In addition, there were honestly times where Washington wondered if Alfred was ready to go it alone. He looked on the verge of adulthood, but in many ways reminded Washington of a child in an adult's body. Was he really ready for complete independence?

Washington quickly reminded himself that he was the leader of an army in a historical war, and that he couldn't let his personal feelings about Alfred F. Jones get in his way of what was best for the country.

...who...just so happened to be Alfred F. Jones.

Washington needed some time to think.

Alfred, for his part, was having difficulty fitting in with the other soldiers. His behavior struck most of them as peculiar, and then there were the conversations.

A singular soldier sidled up next to the tall blonde teenager. "Hey kid, how old are you? You're pretty young to be fighting, ain'tcha?"

Alfred beamed at the other soldier. "I'll be two next 4th of July!"

On another instance, a group of soldiers was discussing their origins. Alfred was eating quietly, listening to the others as they conversed. It was only polite to include Alfred into their conversation. "Say, Al, where do you come from?"

Given the nature of the question, poor Al had to think a little. Finally, he arrived on what he thought to be the best answer. "Well, my brother adopted me in 1607..." He closed his eyes and laughed, only to find that once he opened his eyes again, the other soldiers were crowded in as small a space as possible several feet away, staring at Alfred warily as they chatted amongst themselves.

"Was it something I said?" Alfred remarked in confusion. Fortunately, Washington was able to perform damage control and explain that the young man had been joking, otherwise they would have had a major problem on their hands. Of course, Alfred did not think of this. General Washington was quickly learning that Alfred rarely thought before he acted.

Military training was a different ballgame entirely. Alfred turned out to be a natural when it came to a gun. He was relatively adept at guerrilla warfare, seeming to know the countryside like the back of his hand (though for all Washington knew, given the situation, the countryside might very well be the back of his hand).

Finally, there was hand to hand combat.

A few members of the Continental Army were arm wrestling. Alfred, per usual, was just watching, albeit with an interested look on his face. Another man noted this and called him out on it. "Hey Al, you want to give it a try?"

Alfred quickly shook his head...almost too quickly. "Uh, no thanks! My hand's a bit sore, I don't think I'd do my best."

"I think you're just scared that you'll lose."

Alfred sat up at once. No one told America that he was scared. The inherent risks that concerned Alfred before no longer mattered. He had to prove himself. He had a reputation to uphold!

To who? Alfred wasn't exactly sure. It wasn't like any of these men knew what he really was. Maybe he thought Arthur was looming around, watching from behind a tree? Doubtful. He'd have been sighted by now. Nothing screams 'I'm your enemy, come attack me!' more than wearing bright red clothes in the middle of a battle.

Whatever the reason, Alfred felt like he had to prove himself, and prove himself he would. He grasped the other guy's hand and began to wrestle. At first, it appeared as though Alfred was...losing? Of course Alfred had to make it appear that way. He didn't want to complete crush the other man's confidence, after all. Eventually, though, Alfred grew tired, and slammed the other man's hand down toward the tree stump. "Ha, I win!"

Alfred's victory was drowned out by the sound of high-pitched screaming. "Whoa, I didn't even know wrists bent that way."

The other man's wrist was completely mangled, bent at an impossible angle. Well, impossible if you wanted to avoid pure, unadulterated pain, at least.

Another man in the small group laughed. "Looks like you won't be holding a musket for a while!"

"Shut up shut up SHUT UP!"

"I'm sorry! I'm SO SO sorry!" Guess who.

And George Washington, watching the entire thing, proceeded to invent the facepalm.

So, I posted up a second chapter! I was surprised to gain as many followers as I did so early on, and so I figured I had to give you guys something to thank you. I hope it's to your liking! I also might post up a couple of more serious one-shots. I've had a couple of people tell me that I should post them up, so you might be seeing more than just this from me. We shall see!