You were new to the continental army, only starting off as apart of the militia. Recognized for your outstanding performance while on the field, you were asked to join the continental army; lead by none other than General Washington himself.

You met a lot of men, they were all welcoming towards you and were willing to help you whenever. However, one man in particular couldn’t seem to leave you alone.

A man originally from France, Marquis de Lafayette. He struggled with English often yet it didn’t stop him from being overly talkative. He greeted you a ton, always somehow finding you around camp, trying to strike up a conversation.

Even while trying avoiding him like the plague did nothing, he noticed your uninterested expressions when he attempted to talk. It hurt honestly. Though he kept pushing.

A rainy day at camp, everyone stood around and planned their next attacks on the British. Lafayette spotted you immediately and approached, a warm smile on his lips. Upon greeting you, he was given no reply. His smile faltered, causing these words.

“Why won’t you talk to me-?” He asked, a pretty hurt expression flooded his face.