"Well," Burr says dryly, despite his face turning a deep red, "if I am well enough to ride a horse, perhaps I am well enough to sooth that appendage of yours, which I am sure has suffered terribly." Behind him, Laurens makes a choked sound, but Burr continues to hold Hamilton, Theo between them, who now makes those vague, bubbly, happy noises, that have grown so familiar to all three of them, these past days.

Burr isn't crying, really. The tears before were just for show, and he is having difficulty stopping them, though Hamilton's face is also wet, and he is blinking rapidly.

"Are you alright?" Burr asks, and his voice shakes. "Did they hurt you? Are you well?" His hand tightens, likely painful on Hamilton's own, but he cannot stop anxiously checking him over, difficult to meet his eyes for his embarrassment over said fussing. When had he become like and old maid? Pregnancy had damaged his brain, most likely.

"And you didn't tell me Laurens was made godfather, which I think is the worst infraction of this whole thing," a tearful laugh. Trying to make light of the whole terrible situation, the days he had spent sure Hamilton was dead--likely would have been dead, if Burr had not disobeyed Washington and his doctor to ride out when he had.