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Alexander Hamilton (unimpeachable) wrote in spinningcompass,

Alexander scrunched up his nose, not sure what to make of the idea of his loving wife picking out what would essentially be a mistress for him. He also wasn't particularly thrilled at the idea of Liberty as a mistress at all, it was too empty and shallow a descriptor for what he felt for her. But that seemed like a lot to get into, over a very new relationship. "Bible's not big on adultery either, but hey," he shrugged, and gently laughed it off.

"Mm, yeah, sure. I got the true meaning as well, I just... have a filthy mind apparently," he cleared his throat, feeling a little stupid. He just never knew how to take some of these modern women, and Maryanne in particular always seemed to shock or surprise him in one way or another.

Alexander tilted his head and gave her a curious look when she insisted that he didn't talk too much. He would have begged to differ, but she certainly looked like she was having none of it. "Hmm. Okay. Well, I guessed he'd figure me out eventually, he's obviously not traumatised by it at least. I just... I don't know. I feel very torn," he admitted. He still longed for Eliza, and he desperately wanted to be allowed to meet his daughter... but he also desperately wanted Liberty, and the life they could make for themselves in this place.

He laughed at her calling bullshit and shook his head. "No, no, I don't... that was an exception, not the rule. I do not drink like that, I was a fucking mess," he chuckled. Oh, God, the singing, the photos, his kid having to put him to bed.

There was a lot to consider, and the more that Maryanne talked... maybe she was trying to help, but he felt like he'd been given a lot more to worry about. Would Liberty really find it so awful if he fumbled and couldn't do it in one smooth movement without her noticing? What? He felt his breath quickening in slight panic as he glanced at the discarded underwear again. Shit. He wasn't a man that often felt crushing self-doubt, and definitely not over his abilities with the ladies. Was it really something that required extensive practise and research? Was he going to be disappointing to the point of embarrassment? Fuck.

"I think I'm in way over my head," he said mostly to himself. He got to his feet, feeling his cheeks flush and lungs sting suddenly. "I know you're trying to help, I just- I need to go and- I don't know, scream into a pillow or something now," he told her.