Burr's method of internally rolling his eyes continues through Hamilton's tirade, until the moment Hamilton identifies the child as a her. Something about it rubs Burr the wrong way, makes him feel uncomfortable, exposed. Too-real, as if this thing is too real, and he cannot recover enough to remove Hamilton's hand when he places it on Burr's belly, still feeling the cold flush of shock even for the pleasure of that touch.
He has not thought of the child as a her, as a he. As an it more than anything, as a piece of Monty. But it is a life, growing inside him, and that thing must eventually come out, and the thought makes him half ill with anxiety, with worry.
Shock at Hamilton's words must naturally morph to anger, but any anger quickly fizzles out in the face of what he says next.
"Violence?" He asks, and then it clicks, and the idea is so absurd that he begins to laugh, because really if Hamilton had any kind of complex regarding saving fallen women it becomes more evident now. "Ah yes, of course if I am with child it is through no action of my own. I didn't drop my pants and fuck the first person willing, no. Taken against my will, a damsel in distress. Not some slutty omega, with a will of my own."
no subject
He has not thought of the child as a her, as a he. As an it more than anything, as a piece of Monty. But it is a life, growing inside him, and that thing must eventually come out, and the thought makes him half ill with anxiety, with worry.
Shock at Hamilton's words must naturally morph to anger, but any anger quickly fizzles out in the face of what he says next.
"Violence?" He asks, and then it clicks, and the idea is so absurd that he begins to laugh, because really if Hamilton had any kind of complex regarding saving fallen women it becomes more evident now. "Ah yes, of course if I am with child it is through no action of my own. I didn't drop my pants and fuck the first person willing, no. Taken against my will, a damsel in distress. Not some slutty omega, with a will of my own."