𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚘𝚖 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚎𝚌𝚑 [𝙳𝙸𝚂𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙽𝚄𝙴𝙳]

Discussed Plans

Well, if Jefferson thought he had no clue what he was doing, then he wasn't the only one on that boat.

If Alexander were to allow himself to cry in front of people, whether it be two tears or sobbing, it wouldn't be in front of somebody he shared no real relationship with. He would save it for his old friends, the only people he would find himself close enough to do so with. He would save it for his mother, when she was still alive, knowing that she could comfort him from any distress he was feeling. Though he was a child then, the point still stands. He would never be so... Open, with somebody he wasn't even sure he could trust with the sight. Though, that self-made promise, the rule he now lives by, was ruined as soon as Thomas Jefferson decided to actually pay attention.

While Hamilton didn't know how to recover from his previous emotional outbreak, which had happened barely a minute ago, Thomas didn't know how to deal with himself during, and after it. What was he to do? It was easy to pretend like it didn't happen, but it was hard to forget the situation in its entirety. Forgetting that Alexander had cried, would mean forgetting that Alexander had a reason to cry. It would mean that Thomas had to pretend that he didn't know something was wrong. Could he do that? He doubted so. There was never a time when he would blatantly ignore things like that. While similar to Hamilton on specific points, like stubbornness and determination, he was hardly as rash as the other. He didn't ignore major problems, he didn't brush shit off of his shoulders. 
Which, explained where they were now.

Alexander, sitting at his desk, finishing off a cup of coffee that he had previously left cold when he saw Jefferson originally walk into his room. Jefferson, sitting in front of Hamilton's desk, arm draped around the back of the chair, posture relaxed, legs slightly apart. While the immigrant looked anxious and uncomfortable, Thomas had barely matched the appearance, practically making himself a definition of relaxation and comfort. It hadn't gone unnoticed by Alexander, but there was also no reason for him to comment on it, instead keeping his stare down at the now empty mug in his hands, twisting it. It didn't take long before Thomas spoke, his tone sounding rather bored and uncaring, despite them both now knowing that he was the opposite.

"Talk, Hamilton. It's not like you don't know how you. Fuck, you never shut up during meetings, I doubt this is any different."
Before he spoke, Thomas dished out an irritated sigh, studying the immigrant before him. He seemed as stubborn as ever, when he matched Thomas's gaze with his own glare after the Virginian finished speaking. Perhaps, Alexander's stubbornness is one of the traits Thomas hates the most about him. Really, it was difficult to say. He couldn't tell if he respected the unhealthy levels of determination, if he was jealous of it, or if he hated it. Perhaps it was somewhere in the middle. Well, he wasn't given enough time to sort it in the box before Hamilton finally spoke, narrowed eyes accenting his words.

"You didn't give me anything to talk about, dumbass."
Alexander's words were barely even words, at that point, being listed easier as a scoff of vowels, an irritated display of what Alexander knew to do so well - speak. Instead of how he was sitting beforehand, cross-legged and curled up into his seat, he leaned back in the leather rolling chair, relishing in the fact that he heard no squeak accompanying the action. It was one of his favourite things about the chair, how quiet it was. He always had a sort for what he wanted to be loud, and what he didn't. Chairs had to be quiet, because there was (usually) never anybody in his office who he would want to irritate. However, his pens had to be loud, so he could obnoxiously click them on and off, sending a grin to a certain someone in a meeting when he was met with a glare. He had other examples, of course, but now wasn't the time to be discussing such unimportant topics.