Dear, Hamilton

What year is it?

I'm looking out the window at this strange New York City when Angelica whisks over and shows me a dress. "Do you like this one?"

It's a soft blue dress with three-quarter sleeves, and the neckline of the dress stoops just below my collarbone. "I love it," I tell her as I take in the dress, and she smiles in relief before giving me a shift to put on. 

I quickly put the underclothes on while she is turned around away from me, and I stuff my old clothes into a corner to grab later. When I tell Angelica I'm done, she turns around with a corset in hand. I stifle the urge to cough, already imagining the feeling of having the air squeezed out of me. 

"I won't do it too tight," she assures me before tying it on tightly. If she calls this "not too tight", then I don't know what tight means. 

After that, Angelica throws the blue dress on top of my head and helps me shimmy it down. "It looks perfect on you," Angelica gushes as she clips a simple necklace around my neck.

When I look at myself in her grand mirror, I almost don't recognize myself. My hair looks somehow healthier with a glossier shine to it. The dress has shrunken my waist and pushed my chest up so that I actually seem to have some cleavage. 

"If you don't mind me asking," Angelica starts, "where did you find such clothes?" She indicates to the heap of my old clothes in the corner of the room. 

I open my mouth to respond, a lie on the tip of my tongue, but the sound of a door slamming closed downstairs, followed by a shout ringing down the hallway, stops me short. Angelica and I exchange bewildered looks before we rush downstairs, Angelica going first down the stairs. 

When I catch sight of the young man standing by the door, cloak dripping wet over his blue and buff uniform, I freeze in my tracks at the top of the stairs. I almost instinctively recognize those blue, nearly violet colored eyes, his lean frame, and that reddish, brown hair. 

It could only be-

"Colonel Hamilton," Angelia greets as she reaches the bottom of the stairs. "Why are you-" She waves her hands in his direction "-in such a state?"

Hamilton huffs as he unclips his cloak and hangs it on a nearby coat hanger. "Because," he sighs, "I-" Another breathless sigh as he looks up, and his eyes catch mine. He stops mid-sentence as he stares blankly at me. I am frozen under his stare. 

"Who is this?" he finally asks.

I step forward, not wanting Angelica to somehow steal my thunder, and say, "I'm Eliza Schuyler." 

That same surprise that had flashed in Angelica's eyes shows on Hamilton's face before it vanishes in an instant. He gives me a roguish smile. "A pleasure to meet you. I'm-"

"Alexander Hamilton," I finish for him. "I know who you are." 

His eyebrows rise in delighted surprise. "Oh, do you? Come down so I can better meet your acquaintance," he suggests, stopping at the bottom of the stairs as I descend. 

When I reach the bottom, he takes my hand and presses a brief kiss to my knuckles, his brilliant blue eyes raising to meet mine. And then he's releasing my hand and drawing away a few steps. 

"What don't we go into the living room?" Angelica suggest. "I can make some tea for everyone."

Lafayette nods eagerly and begins walking towards where I'm guessing the living room is located. Hamilton and I follow after him with Angelica right behind us. 

We enter a spacious room with dark wood floors and a grand crystal chandelier overhead. A fire roars in a marble fireplace, making the room nice and toasty. It's a nice contrast to the pouring rain outside, which I can make out from two large windows on either side of the room.