Burr arrived home late at night, coming from the bar. He had a few drinks, which was visible in how he was stumbling into the front door. He never usually got this drunk when he went out for drinks, though. But it was for a good reason.

He had lost the election. It was him or Thomas Jefferson, and of course, Alexander Hamilton’s vote had declared Thomas’ presidency. Damn Alexander.

He made his way into his bedroom, stopping in the doorway. He stared at his bed for a moment, watching the sleeping figure of his lover. Then he groaned silently to himself, feeling a headache forming. He walked over to his side of the bed, then climbed in, still stumbling in his drunken state.