He bows low over Burr's hand and brushes a kiss over his knuckles through what are, by all accounts, unfairly lush eyelashes. The gesture would not be scandalous. The look he gives Burr, however, is a bit scandalous, and apparently this tips a lady in the upper gallery over into pretending to faint. (Hamilton doubts it's sincere.)

He will need to reassure Burr privately after this, of what was performance and what true. But that can wait.

For now, the courtroom is pandemonium, George Washington looks vaguely pained, the judge dismisses the charges, and the young lady at the heart of this case marches her brother to Hamilton afterwards and glares at him until he mutters something about withdrawing the challenge.

Hamilton is so happy, he cannot but respond with grace.

"Sir," he says, with a bow, "would that all sisters had such ardent defenders as you. I begrudge you neither your mistake, nor your request for satisfaction."

Afterwards, Hamilton tucks himself in a corner and scribbles down a document, referencing from one of the law books he'd only begun to study. His draftsmanship leaves a bit to be desired, but the formalities are recognized, and he surveys it with satisfaction before appending his signature, and going to look for Burr.