It is so blasted cold outside. Hamilton moves quickly, if only because he needs to warm his blood, his blood that's always moving sluggish as syrup in his veins.

He turns his face away from Burr's call. He wants Burr desperately and also wants him to go, so that Hamilton can have his moment of weakness alone. He'd actually wanted it, for a blood-red half-second, wanted to push until Washington's teeth ripped at his throat.

Shame, that he would have done that in front of his husband.

The only invitation or response Burr receives is that Hamilton's steps slow, and stop.