Burr doesn't die. For all he feels like he is dying, he doesn't die. He is--he is hurt. Deeper than he's ever been. Every awful thing Burr ever feared about himself--those things worse even than he would allow himself to think but always suspected--Hamilton had confirmed them, tonight. He wanted it. He asked Thomas for it, and even then--neither of them wanted him. Who would, after being used like that?

He is shivering, insensate, as Ned sees to him. But there's a worse desperation inside him, a certainty that he will be alone, confirmed already twice over, that he shall be left in the streets and will never see his family again, subject to no more affection or care until the day he dies. And the wildness--that is there then, the kind of desperation one can only be when they know there is no hope.

Burr grabs at Ned. Burr pulls at him, tried to show with his body. Is shaking, but opens his legs, and tilts his head back, that display that invites. He is available, see? Please.