Corset in Congress (A Hamilton Genderbend)

Chapter Six: Farmer Refuted

Burr's POV

"Hear ye! Hear ye!"

I curse silently. I'm out in the square, standing next to Laurens, and I see Alexandra eyeing the speaker with judgement. The speaker doesn't seem to notice, which could be a good or bad thing, and the rest of her posse is scattered throughout the small crowd.

He steps up onto a little soapbox and unrolls a scroll. I can tell that the guy isn't a serious contender from the moment he opens his mouth. "My name is Samuel Seabury, and I present, "Free Thoughts on the Proceedings of the Continental Congress'!"

"Heed not the rabble who scream, 'Revolution!' They have not your interest at heart!"

"Oh my god, tear this guy apart," scoffs Mulligan, sidling up to Alexandra. At least he has the decency to be subtle about it.

"Chaos and bloodshed are not a solution," Seabury pleads with the crowds, appealing to their humanity. "Don't let them lead you astray! This Congress does not speak for me!" he practically spits out, venom in his voice.

Alexandra makes a move forward, and I grab her arm, stopping her. "Let him be," I warn.

"They're playing a dangerous game!" She sulks as he continues bashing her cause.

Then when Seabury delivers his last line, Alexandra stiffens. "I pray the King shows you his mercy!"

She turns around slowly on her heel, a murderous glint in her eyes. I realize that they're going to have to scrape pieces of him off the floor for his funeral.

He's blissfully unaware for a few more seconds. "For shame! For shame!"

If I could have stopped her, I would have, but Lafayette's dragged me away by the time she's joined the fray. We argue, but he's not moving, and so I have nothing left to do but watch this play out as it gradually becoming a disaster. She just talks right over him, using Seabury's own words against him. "He'd have you all unravel at the sound of screams, but the Revolution is coming! The have-nots are going to win this!"

"It's hard to listen to you with a straight face," Alexandra mocks him when he stops to take a break, earning cheers and yells from the people surrounding her.

"Chaos and bloodshed already haunt us, and honestly, you shouldn't even talk! And what about Boston? Look at the cost and all that we've lost," she's referring to the absolutely devastating Boston Massacre, "and you talk about Congress?!"

Seabury attempts a comeback, trying to rally supporters. "This Congress does not speak for me!" 

Her next words condemn him. "My dog speaks more elegantly than thee..."

More howls and catcalls answer her insult.

"They're playing a dangerous game," he tries again, even though he's already lost.

"But strangely your mange is the same!"

"I pray the King shows you his mercy!"

"Oh, is he in Jersey?" Alexandra fakes horror, falling to her knees, fearful.

"For shame!"

She rises to her feet, shouting, "For the Revolution!"

"For shame!"

"FOR THE REVOLUTION!" Everyone joins in, throwing things at the utterly demolished Seabury, siding with Alexandra, who is clearly the intellectual superior in this confrontation.

As a testament to his determination, or perhaps his lack of tactical sense, Seabury attempts to salvage what's left of his dignity, which is precious little. He starts to repeat himself a third time, voice shaking, "Heed--"

Alexandra's sick of all of this, as she's not shy about sharing her opinion."If you repeat yourself, I'm going to --"

"Scream--" he chokes out, probably questioning why he's still here.

"Honestly," she snatches the scroll out of his hands, tearing it in half, "please don't read!" Over the cacophony, I can hear Mulligan's distinct roar of approval.

"Have not your interests--"

"Don't modulate the key," this time it's Lafayette's accent who congratulates her, and I wince, because I'm right next to the Frenchman when he says it, "then not debate with me!"

Pushing Seabury off the stand, she takes his place, starting a speech of hers for the Revolution. Seabury's in danger of being stepped on by the crowd of listeners, who are moving with the beat of her proclamation, stomping and cheering. "Why should a tiny island across the sea regulate the price of tea?"

"Alexandra, please," I try, finally freeing myself from Lafayette's clutches. 

Not surprisingly, she's disappointed in my lack of bloodlust. "Burr, I'd rather be divisive than indecisive, drop the niceties!" she scolds, earning a grin from Laurens, who elbows me in the side in a not-so-friendly manner.

"Silence!" It's two British officers, clothed in the red coats. "A message from the King!" they announce.

Great. That's what we need now. A love note from King George III.

"A message from the King!" 

Mulligan and Lafayette are holding back an edgy John Laurens. Briefly I recall that night at the bar, and his promise to "pop chick-a plop" all the cops until the colonies are free from British rule.

"A MESSAGE FROM THE KING!"

Here we go.