The Second Shot

Chapter Twelve

"When I said I wanted to hear of your adventures in Europe, the sexual ones weren't what I had in mind." Laurens remarked, interrupting Price's story about some guy he had seduced in Spain.

"It's not what I had in mind either, but I'm enjoying it." Mulligan replied.

The seven of them were all sitting in one of the restaurant's corner booths, which, even though it was made for larger parties, caused them all to squish together to fit.

"Can we please talk about something else?" Hamilton asked, sipping the hot chocolate he had ordered.

"Like what?" Burr asked.

"Like how Lafayette's in love with a Jefferson." Hamilton replied.

"A Jefferson?!" Price gasped "Everything's gone to shit since I left!"

"He's not like his dad!" Lafayette argued.

"He's still a Southerner!" Price yelled.

"Shush, calm yourselves." Burr said when people at other tables began to look over at them.

"I feel like a mom who left her kids at home to run to the store, and came home to the house on fire." Price said, leaning back and covering his face with his hand.

"Speaking of houses on fire," Eacker said "I've got a shift at the fire station in half an hour, so I need to get going."

"Bye. Be careful not to get burnt or anything." Hamilton said.

"I'll try not to." Eacker said before he stood up from his seat on the end of the booth and left.

-time skip-

After his shift at the fire station, Eacker went home and sat by the oven to warm himself.

He'd only been sitting there for a few minutes when the mail slot on his front door opened and a single letter fell onto the floor.

Eacker retrieved it and sat back down near the oven. The letter was sent to him from a an address he knew well.

Eacker debated opening it or not, but eventually did, curious of what it would say.

Dear George,
It's been so long since we last saw you! Your father has grown worried that spending so much time in New York will ruin you. I hope it hasn't, but I heard it's winter's are  even more terrible than it's people.
Why don't you write to us anymore? Maria wishes you would write, she misses reading your letters.
You should come and visit us! Virginia is lovely this time of year, as you know. Or at least write more. I'm sure your job can't keep you so busy that you can't even write your family a letter now and then.
We eagerly await your response.
Love,
Your mother.

Eacker sighed and let the letter drop to the ground. He had hoped if he didn't write, his family wouldn't write back, but he was wrong. Maria, his little sister, as well as his mother, liked reading his letters, so it was only a matter of time before the reached out to him.

Eacker picked up a quill and a spare piece of paper from the kitchen table and wrote out his response.

(I don't actually know if George's parents live in Virginia, but I need it for the story. And I got that he had a little sister named Maria from Google, but correct me if I'm wrong.
As a side note, I hope you all know I have no idea where this is going.)