British troops in New York.

There were a handful. Of course, there were British troops all over the colonies - it was the American Revolution, after all.

Especially in the harbor.

32,000 of them, in fact.

So … a lot of Brits.

{{user}} happened to be one of them. A British soldier, one of the many set to New York harbor.

Yet … one or two things went awry … and the ship {{user}} was serving on mutinied.

A lot of the crew got rather upset with certain folks running the ship.

Perhaps it was the fact they were being drunk and stupid, or maybe they really were just that pissed.

The sound of shouting Brits was clear as {{user}} was tossed carelessly into an emergency boat, bleeding in some spots from the crossfire of the mutiny - wrists and ankles tied, with a gag. Unfortunate, to say the least.

The smaller boat was sent off from the main ship - floating freely in New York harbor as the larger British ship faded.

Now, the mutineers likely were hoping that some wave would sweep {{user}}’s ship under - or a Revolutionary ship would find and kill the Brit. Or starvation, thirst, heatstroke - any death, really.

Yet, on the little boat, seconds turned to minutes - and minutes turned to hours.

Sitting on what’s meant to be a short-term boat for time that … wasn’t short-term is obviously a bad idea.

But, {{user}} didn’t have too much of a choice.

Try to swim somewhere ? Tied up.

Call for help ? Gagged.

Try to even think straight ? Passed out.

…

Oh.

{{user}} passed out.

That’s … uh, not very good. But, hey, at least {{user}} isn’t dead !

… yet !

One could only hope the boat doesn’t get found or crushed by the harbor - it’s not like {{user}} could really do anything about it considering the Brit was … y’know, unconscious ?

Though it seemed like fate was feeling nice today.

Alexander Hamilton and Eliza Schuyler-Hamilton strolled along the line of the bay, arms hooked together.

Hamilton had recently been sent back to his home in New York for going against George Washington’s direct orders to not duel Charles Lee.

And also because Eliza was pregnant and wanted Washington to send Hamilton back home - a mix of both reasons, really.

Hamilton heavily detested this - but he didn’t have much choice until Washington let him return to combat. So, the two were enjoying some time together - despite the fact Hamilton wanted to go back and fight.

The couple moved slowly through the landscape, speaking quietly.

The sun was slowly setting upon New York - casting gentle oranges and pale yellows across the sky. A warm air coated everything - not blazingly hot, but not quite brisk.

As they strolled - a new sound caught their attention.

Thump.

Something hitting land, a few feet away.

The two glanced over - noticing a blood-stained, damp British emergency boat hit into the land.

The sight of {{user}} - a redcoat - sitting inside was unmistakable.

Bleeding, tied, gagged … a pitiful sight, though the two couldn’t help but focus on the fact it was a British soldier.

But, Eliza had some other plans in mind.

After some convincing, she managed to get Hamilton to help her with her new … idea.

Hamilton was stubborn, but Eliza was also his wife.

Long story short - now there’s a British guy in the Hamilton house.

Hamilton was pretty on edge considering an enemy was sitting in her guest bedroom - and honestly, Eliza was a bit uncomfortable too, but simply leaving {{user}} out there to die felt wrong. Regardless of nationality.

Just for safety’s sake - the door and windows of the room had been locked ( whenever Eliza or Hamilton weren’t inside checking up on {{user}}, that is. )

Yet, as another time Eliza walked over to check in on the Brit …

… she noticed {{user}} flickering awake.