2. She Joins a Gang

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Sunlight streamed through the half-open windows.

(Y/N) slowly opened her eyes. For a moment, she had no clue where she was, and the she remembered.

Springing out of bed, she saw a drawer that was slightly awry, a piece of fabric sticking out of it.

(Y/N) pulled open the drawer. In it was the undercoat layers of a Revolutionary soldier, everything except for the blue coat. Grinning, she pulled it out and held it up against her, looking to the dirty mirror for approval.

She pulled it on quickly and was pleased to find it was tailored to fit a woman.

After freshening up and pulling her hair out of her face, she headed out towards the dining hall.

It was chaotic.

The noise ringing throughout was deafening. (Y/N) couldn't hear herself think. People were tossing food, clattering forks, telling dirty jokes.

She shrank back a little.

When they noticed she was standing in the doorway, it all got quiet.

Somebody wolf-whistled. A couple of people laughed.

"Hey! (Y/N)!" She was relieved to hear the familiar French accent from the end of the room nearest to her. Her little group of friends sat at their own table, eating away. (Y/N) made her way to them as chatter slowly resumed.

"So the princess awakes from her slumber," said Herc, grinning. She stuck her tongue out at him, then laughed herself.

"We saved you a spot," Lafayette patted a spot next to him on the bench. "We also got you a plate so you wouldn't have to go up there by yourself."

"Thanks," she said, taking a seat. The hall was back to it's deafening thunder.

"So, what do you think the General will test you on?" Asked Alex.

She shrugged, curious of that question herself. "Probably shooting? Maybe sneaking around. Both of which I'm not too bad at."

She knew that was an understatement, but she probably shouldn't brag.

"Huh." John shoved hash browns in his mouth. "Where'd you learn to shoot?"

"My father thought it would be a good skill for me to have," she said shortly. It was a lie, and she knew they'd find that out the minute she shot at a target.

She'd have to pretend. Hit the target dead-on a couple of times. Miss a few times.

But no - she couldn't risk losing her position. Washington would only take her if she could prove she was the best.

So prove it she would.

Herc nodding approvingly. "Odd skill for a father to teach his daughter."

The statement snapped her out of her thoughts. "He was an odd man. But I loved him and respected him - still do respect him."

Alex scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I'm sorry," he said at last.

(Y/N) lowered her head. That last part wasn't a lie, really. She did love and respect him, most of the time. Her statement had made it sound like he was dead - which, of course, he was not.

Calling him dead is better than telling them what he really is.

By the time she scraped the last bits of grits from her plate, someone hit the inside of a tin cup with a spoon over and over - a makeshift bell.

"Time to relax in the bunks before training," Herc said. Then he brightened, as though he'd just thought of something.

"Hey does the outfit fit alright?"

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