Summary: Jefferson is not sure how exactly how to ask Alex if he remembers his past life without seeming insane.
“Are you seriously just gonna walk out of here without asking me?”
Thomas froze, a hand on the edge of a bookcase. Outside, the busy, rainy, city day crashed around them and was completely oblivious to the legends tiptoeing around each other. Inside, the quiet of the library forced both Thomas and Alex to keep their voices down. It was the only way to have a conversation without yelling at each other, they’d found.
Slowly, Thomas turned back. He raised a single eyebrow. “Ask… what?”
Alex snorted, shrugged obnoxiously, and leaned back in his chair so that only the two back legs touched the floor. “Nevermind, man. I’d… well, I assumed you actually had a purpose for meeting with me here.”
“Besides the school project.”
“Uh, yeah.”
Thomas rolled his eyes and walked back up to the table. “Look, kid. I don’t like you. I don’t want to spend any more time with you than is positively necessary.”
Alex stuck his tongue out (such maturity) and thumped his front chair legs down suddenly. “I’m not a kid, and we’re the same age.”
Thomas glared at him. Alexander Hollins.
Formerly, Alexander Hamilton.
Formerly, his sworn political rival.
Formerly, a royal pain in the backside.
No, scratch that. Continually, a royal pain in the backside.
Stop talking and start doing: My Fallout Shelter for my Tumblr blog 