Corset in Congress (A Hamilton Genderbend)

Chapter Two: Aaron Burr, Sir

Burr's POV

1776, New York City.

"Pardon me, are you Aaron Burr, sir?" asks a woman hurrying up behind me. Her long black hair is in disarray as she struggles to catch up to my long strides. Her glasses are perched precariously on her nose, and as she looks up at me, I can see that her brown eyes have a harried look, as if she's been through tough times.

I frown, leery of what a woman like her would want from me. "That depends, who's asking?" I shoot back, not bothering to hide my suspicion.

She rushes to reassure me, stumbling over her words as she does so. "Oh, well sure, sir. I'm Alexandra Hamilton, I'm at your service, sir," she pulls off a hurried, sloppy half-curtsy while continuing to explain. "I've been looking for you."

I smile, amused at her manner around me. Alexandra's wound tighter than a spring, probably terrified of saying the wrong thing.

"I'm getting nervous," I joke, but she keeps on going, completely brushing off my attempt at lightening the mood.

"Sir, I heard your name at Princeton." Interesting. I didn't think they accepted women, I muse, as she continues her tale. "I was seeking an accelerated course of study when I got sort of out of sorts with a buddy of yours. I may have punched him," I raise my eyebrows, and she hurries to redeem herself, gesturing wildly with her hands as she does so, "it's a blur, sir. He handles the financials?"

I sigh, regretting what I have to say next. "You punched the bursar?" Very funny. It rhymes. So hilarious.

Instead of noticing, she lights up. "Yes! I wanted to do what you did-- graduate in two and join the Revolution! He looked at me like I was stupid, I'm NOT stupid!" She says quickly, face flushing red. Like there was any doubt that she was anything but sharp-witted.

Alexandra's not done, though. She looks directly at me, as if she's trying to see what makes me so special. "So how'd you do it? How'd you graduate so fast?" She inquires, determined to get an answer out of me.

Heaving another sigh, I relent. "It was my parents' dying wish before they passed."

Again my female companion surprises me. I expect a somber expression and condolences, not a grin. "You're an orphan! Of course! I'm an orphan!" I'm perplexed, but she keeps on going, a steamroller.

"God, I wish there was a war, then we could prove that we're worth more than anyone bargained for--"

"Can I buy you a drink?" I interrupt, flashing Alexandra a charming smile. I know it won't go anywhere, since it seems like she's focused on achieving her goals, not courting, but it looks like she could use a stiff drink right about now. 

Her tired eyes are full of gratitude. "That would be nice," she sighs, brushing stray strands of silky hair out of her face.

I motion in the direction of the bar, and we begin to head towards it. "While we're talking, let me offer you so free advice."

Pulling out a stool at the counter, I let her sit first, before lowering myself into my own seat. When we are both settled, with ice-cold drinks at our fingertips, I start.

"Talk less," I suggest.

She purses her lips. "What?"

Since I know she heard me correctly, I persist. "Smile more." I demonstrate, shining a hundred-watt beam at her.

I can see she's at a loss for words. This whole approach is likely nothing like Alexandra Hamilton would ever consider.

"Ha," she manages finally, twirling her glass between her fingers, mulling the idea over.