Burr is still looking back at the river, when Hamilton pulls him away. That is until Hamilton produces the slip of paper and the ring box.

"Oh!" Burr says, looking at the rings in surprise. He takes it in his hand, fingers shaking, and turns it over, studies the interlocking parts, and when his eyes come to the engravings on the inside he has to turn his eyes away, blinking against some sudden surge of something.

"I thought you'd forgotten," he says, "or that perhaps--well, I don't have good history with engagements." He means it as a joke, but his smile falters, as he clutches as Hamilton's hand.

Married. They're going to be married. Today. And he'll wear this ring on his finger, and Hamilton and him will be bonded, legally and in the eyes of everyone. They'll start a life together, after the war. Build a home. What Burr had thought once he would have with Montgomery.

Oh, but Hamilton is looking unsure, so Burr leans in and kisses him--slow and deep and lovely, soothes a hand over his scalp, snuggles into his chest.

"You're lovely, and perfect, and wonderful. The Ring--It's lovely," he says. Then, "but if we get married today, will I have to share my fish?"