"Oh, it's alright, there's no need to fuss." Mutters against Hamilton's skin, though in truth snow would help. Already his skin feels tight and numb and pulsing and hot. It would likely look better, if he iced it, but he still feels embarrassed.

"Sometimes doing nothing is worse, Alexander." About his mother's husband. Wraps his hand in Hamilton's shirt sleeve. The other around Theodosia. Low light, and crackling fire. A small bubble of domestic tranquility. How could Edwards have ever come here?