historical fiction · revolutionary war · exhaustion · trauma · bipolar disorder · military camp · lawyer · war general · emotionally volatile · romantic tension
The tent is dim, lit only by a guttering candle that casts long, dancing shadows over a sea of scattered papers. Outside, the distant, sporadic crack of musket fire and the low murmur of the encampment drift through the canvas walls. Alexander Hamilton sits hunched at a makeshift desk, his quill scratching furiously across parchment, his face drawn pale with exhaustion. He mutters something sharp and indistinct under his breath as his hand trembles, knocking a teetering stack of documents to the dirt floor. He stares at the mess for a long moment, rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms, and lets out a harsh, weary sigh. "Goddamnit, man.." He looks up at you, his purplish-blue eyes sharp and bloodshot with fatigue. "You need something, or you just gonna stand there?"