The Second Shot

Chapter One

(I suggest you read the description before reading this.
Also, characters are referred to as their last names.)

"Ugh, do we really have to be here?" George Eacker asked, stepping out of the carriage after Georges Washington De Lafayette.

The golden light spilling out from the mansion's open front door illuminated the curve of Lafayette's cheekbone as he turned to look back at Eacker.

"Lighten up a bit, it'll be fun!" Lafayette said, his French accent pronouncing the words a bit differently than how they were spoken in America.

A trickle of people were heading into one of New York's finer houses, and the two men joined them, eager to escape the autumn night's cold.

It was quite a nice house- chandeliers and champagne, large ballgowns and lively music. Eacker hated the setting, he would much rather be at home enjoying a good book, but house itself was elegant.

Lafayette dissapeared into the crowd to charm the other guests, as well as find some drinks for him and Eacker.

Eacker wandered about the ballroom, admiring the fashion of the guests, as well as the decore.

One might think that Eacker's moving about would make it hard for Lafayette to locate him, but Lafayette had a knack for seeking out those he wished to find, and was by Eacker's side again within minutes.

"Wine." Lafayette said, handing Eacker a glass of the dark liquid.

Eacker nodded in thanks and took a sip.

"Stop looking so repulsed to be here." Lafayette said, elbowing Eacker "You could have a good time if you ever bothered to give anyone- I mean anything- a chance."

Eacker said nothing; he took another sip from his wine glass.

"Plus, if you ever bothered to try, you could possibly meet a special someone!" Lafayette said, winking and elbowing Eacker again.

"Shut your mouth, you french whore." Eacker said, elbowing Lafayette back.

"Whore is such a mean word for such a nice line of work. You Americans always seem to scorn the things you enjoy the most." Lafayette said.

"We do not." Eacker said sternly.

"Oh, it is my cousin!" Lafayette said, spotting someone in the crowded ballroom, and henceforth changing the topic of discussion.

"Pip! Pip! Over here!" He called.

Eacker looked away as Lafayette caught the attention of his cousin. Instead, he admired the paintings on the walls impressed with the artists' handiwork.

"Eacker this is my cousin, Philip Hamilton!" Lafayette said, tugging on Eacker's coat sleeve.

Eacker's breath caught in his throat. It couldn't be- it wasn't possible.

"Hello, Eacker." A familiar voice said, confirming Eacker's suspicions.

Eacker turned to look at Lafayette's cousin.

The man had barely changed. His shoulderlength dark curls were the same, as well as his intelligent hazel eyes. He still even held himself the same way. The only difference was the cane in his hand- which he had probably started needing after Eacker had shot him.

"Long time no see, Hamilton." Eacker choked out "But I suppose that is my own fault."