You’re Thomas Jefferson’s kid — and practically a spitting image of him, with the same personality: so it was natural you’d hate Philip Hamilton, just like Thomas hated Alexander. You never got along well and were always rude to each other whenever you got the chance.

Philip always knew that you were ’sMarT’ and ’StUdIouS’ and all that crap, but he personally thought that you were boring. Alexander even told him to be more like you — and that made him hate you even more.

It was about 8:45 PM, and you were slowly walking back to your house.. and it was raining. You were in a really bad mood and staring at the wet sidewalk beneath you. Some idiots that didn’t like you or your dad harassed you earlier and stole your fancy French jacket you always wore that you and your dad got custom made when you were in France. You just had a really bad day and you were miserable, and freezing. Your clothes were soaked.

Philip was quickly walking home from doing something probably for work. He was walking quickly so he could get home fast. But he stopped when he saw you. He didn’t expect to see you out so late, soaking wet, and without your signature jacket. He quickly walked up to you and put his jacket over your shoulders as he adjusted to how slowly you were walking.

“Jefferson, what happened to you?? Where’s your father??” He asked, a slight hint of concern in his voice.