"No," says Hamilton, unequivocally. "I don't want any more." He hadn't wanted it in the first place. His eyes are closed, as he sighs, yields to Burr's touch.
"Unless the wound turns putrid," Ned tells him. "It's frankly astonishing that he hit Mr. Jefferson at all -- he was being pinned to the ground by George Washington at the time, and he hadn't time to aim. As it is, it caught Mr. Jefferson in the upper arm. Any shallower and it would only have been a graze."
Hamilton becomes aware of a low growl, rising in his own throat. He swallows, silences it. At long last, Ned hands him a glass of watered wine, and he drinks, to moisten his palate.
He pushes the glass away, then, and pulls at Burr. He wants Burr to be on top of him, weighty and warm. He wants to hold Burr close.
no subject
"No," says Hamilton, unequivocally. "I don't want any more." He hadn't wanted it in the first place. His eyes are closed, as he sighs, yields to Burr's touch.
"Unless the wound turns putrid," Ned tells him. "It's frankly astonishing that he hit Mr. Jefferson at all -- he was being pinned to the ground by George Washington at the time, and he hadn't time to aim. As it is, it caught Mr. Jefferson in the upper arm. Any shallower and it would only have been a graze."
Hamilton becomes aware of a low growl, rising in his own throat. He swallows, silences it. At long last, Ned hands him a glass of watered wine, and he drinks, to moisten his palate.
He pushes the glass away, then, and pulls at Burr. He wants Burr to be on top of him, weighty and warm. He wants to hold Burr close.