The instrumentals started, the drums setting the pace that this song was to be strong, the woodwinds offering a softer tone. It allured everyone in the room to the projection, eyes steady on what was to happen.

"How does a bastard, orphan, son of a whore, and a Scotsman..."

Hamilton rose a brow at this. Of course, he was a bastard orphan, but his mother a whore? Now, quite frankly, she did cheat on her husband with Alexander's father... but is she necessarily a whore.

He looked past the lines, taking note of the man singing. A man of color on stage. They were freed. He smiled warmly, glancing at Laurens who almost looked just as proud. 

"Dropped in the middle of the forgotten spot in the Caribbean by providence, impoverished..."

Hamilton shrugged his shoulders at this. Saint Kitts and Nevis was a fairly small town where most people knew their neighbors, and most stopped to talk in the streets. And, most were poor,  that is true. It was a low-budget living space that anyone could afford, no matter what little wealth they held.

"... In squalor, grow up to be a hero and a scholar?"

Laurens looked to Hamilton, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. He leaned down a bit, whispering, "see... You were remembered. As a hero of the Colonies..." He pressed his forehead against the redhead's momentarily, eyes shut. Hamilton smiled warmly, though a bit flustered. Fortunately, the lights were dim enough around them, it just looked as if Laurens was doing nothing more than speaking. 

"The ten-dollar, founding father without a father..."

Alexander's eyes traced to the screen again. He quirked a brow, almost amused by that. Oh, he had a father, his father was just a scoundrel and ran off. He wouldn't even come to Alexander's wedding, the pathetic thing. But, perhaps, that's not the point of the line. He did grow up without his father, and he knows well that could be the meaning of it. Laurens seemed intrigued by the man shown, and he smiled.

"Is that one supposed to be me?"

"Not sure... Maybe Mosquito will tell us after this song."

"Got a lot farther by working a lot harder, by being a lot smarter, by being a self-starter, by fourteen... Placed him in charge of a trading charter."

Of course, they'd have to bring the charter up. The things he had to see and account for were entirely absurd at the time. Enslaved people either died or being forced into ships. It was a hard time in his life. From behind him, he felt a soft hand, one he knew all the well. It was Betsy. He glanced at the woman, smiling softly, holding her hand tightly. 

"And every day while slaves were being slaughtered and carted away-"

Laurens's nose scrunched at the line. "Cruelty at its finest." The Carolinian stared at the projection. "It's absurd that people thought owning others was a good idea. They should've known it was wrong." Though examining the screen further, he seemed to calm down a bit. The man singing was a bi-racial man. 

Alexander smiled a bit. Laurens was always a sight when he was angry or speaking his beliefs. But, what was more deadly was his silence and examination. 

"-across the waves, he struggled and kept his guard up."

Who wouldn't hold their guard high in Alexander's situation? He had to do something to survive. And working in those conditions? It was not his ideal workspace.

"Inside he was looking for something to be a part of-"

"Of course..." Alexander whispered. "Everyone has some goal, some idea. They always have something they want to be a part of. It's legacy. Not a soul wants to be forgotten in this world." He considered his own words for a moment, glancing at his feet. He supposed he found that his legacy was passed on and he was remembered.

"-the brother was ready to beg, steal, borrow, or barter."

"Steal?" Laurens questioned. 

"I don't think I can recall what it's talking about." The Caribbean man laughed. "... Perhaps it's some form of expression."

"Must be."

"Then a hurricane came, and devastation reigned-"

Hamilton cringed at the memory. In thata hurricane, he lost more than he could ever admit to. He lost his brother that day. He saw the boy get swept beneath the current, and she wouldn't let him go. He had to stare and watch as his brother fully vanished beneath the murky, Caribbean waters. He drowned that day, sacrificing himself for Alexander. He really shouldn't have lived- no, he shouldn't have been alive past that point. 

"-our man saw his future drip, dripping down the drain."

"Their man?" Eliza hummed. 

"I suppose it would be some form of affectionate addressing term in the modern-day world." Angelica explained. Margarita nodded in agreement, a soft smile on her lips.

Phillip turned to his mother, smiling politely. "I can see it being a simplistic term to address one's friend."

"Oh, that could be it." Eliza smiled, placing a hand on Phillip's shoulder.

"Put a pencil to his temple, connected it to his brain-"

"There's more metaphors and exaggerations in here than anything. Reminds me of your letters," Laurens joked. Alexander scoffed softly, grinning in amusement.

"Is that so?"

"I mean, half the time you seemed to be writing in what felt like riddles. But, I adored reading your letters... Reminded me often of who I really had. And, you were my dearest companion, that is no lie."

"And he wrote his first refrain, a testament to his pain!"

Alexander looked to the projection momentarily. How much was known about his young life? He did write a small pamphlet, and let some things out to the town, who he was, and what he intended to do. 

"Well, word got around, they said, this kid is insane, man!"

"Hardly," Hamilton snorted. From across the theater, he could see Burr grinning at the line. Of course, he would find it amusing. Though, he couldn't quite recall seeing Burr smile too much throughout life. He was always a serious man- always cautious. He was careful with his sword and tongue. He was an odd fellow, but charming.

"Took up a collection just to send him to the mainland!" 

Hamilton recalled the surprise he felt knowing the people were donating to his cause, to help him get to where he wanted so he could become fully educated, and be something more from the nothing he had to build himself from. A delicate project that was torn and rebuilt over and over again. 

"Get your education, don't forget from whence you came!"

He smiled gently at this line, hands folded neatly in his lap. He never forgot that old town, the old house that he had lived in. He remembered it often. Whether it was the sound of rain and thunder or a soft voice in the back of his mind, he remembered. 

"And the world is gonna know your name. What's your name man?"

"Odd asking for your name in a musical about your life, isn't it?" Angelica inquired. Hamilton looked back to her, tilting his head. 

"I would say it's likely to add some form of suspense. Like a play or Novella." 

Laurens nodded in agreement. "That's true... But, are you seeing what I'm seeing here?"

Hamilton grinned, looking at his friend. "What?"

"I'm seeing so many ethnicities, backgrounds, and genders performing together on one stage. Each have their own role, each expressing a character to the fullest. Now, some accuracy may not be there... But look what is!" 

"Alexander Hamilton, my name is Alexander Hamilton!"

Hamilton's chest filled with pride at the sound of his own name. This truly was a piece of his legacy, a sum of his memory. He adored it. It just made him curious to know more about how he was seen now. Is he still a hero to America? Or perhaps the opinions shifted?

"And there's a million things I haven't done,"

"And a million more I never got to." He whispered. 

"But just you wait, just you wait..."

The decrescendo and the change in beat gave many of them goosebumps as it shifted to the next verse. Many of them are familiar with the arts, most having studied some form of the instrument at a young age. Laurens lacked the talent for musical studies, his preference lay in painting. Hamilton did not play an instrument but would sing duets with his daughter as she played the piano. 

"When he was ten, his father split, full of it, debt-ridden-"

Alexander groaned. He had almost forgotten about his scoundrel father. One he repetitively tried to forgive, only to be given another reason to hate him. The man who left his mother in financial ruin, and the practical reason he lost so much. He looked at the woman on stage, smiling. She was representing Eliza, his dearest Betsy. 

Eliza smiled warmly, hand folded over her chest as she glanced at her sister. "Do you think things have changed for women?"

"I would pray that's the case," Angelica whispered. 

"Are you kidding? I'm certain things have changed. Women are much too powerful to be repressed for so long." Margarita laughed, looking at her sisters. "If Catherine and Cornelia were here, they'd tell you the same thing." 

"Two years later, see Alex and his mother bedridden..."

Alexander sighed, knowing this part was bound to come up. They had become severely ill after he and his mother contracted yellow fever. It was a miracle that Hamilton had survived it. He remembered the look on his poor mother's face as they lay there. It had paled to almost a yellow, her eyes the same way. She would sweat, but she could never seem to break the fever that had taken hold of her. The night she died, she had been holding Alexander close with one arm, her other crossed firmly around her abdomen to stop the pain. Her fever spiked and she was gone. 

"Laying in their own sick, the scent thick."

The smell was horrible. Someone would be lying if they said the illness had no scent. When you are sweating profusely, unable to move or control what happens, it really does show. Sweat, blood, and everything else. 

"Alex got better but his mother went quick..."

Laurens turned to Alexander now, pity in his eyes. "I'm sorry... that sounds like a horrendous way to lose your mother. I remember how I felt when I received the news that my mother had passed."

"It was hard... I remember that much. I didn't know what to do... So, I pondered it and took the reigns of my life into my hands." 

"You were always exceedingly smart, hm?"

"Alas, I must confess that I was." 

"Moved in with the cousin, the cousin committed suicide."

Peter Lytton. Hamilton sighed at the memory, almost unsure of how to feel. He couldn't remember if the man was shot or stabbed. But, all he did know was what he was told. Slain by his own hand. And he was alone again.

"Left him with nothing but ruined pride, something new inside."

Hamilton tilted his head. Aside from the sorrow and self-pity he had... He had a spark of hope that was nearly smothered out. He had known from when he was that little that he was going to make something of himself. 

"A voice saying, 'Alex, you gotta fend for yourself!'"

Laurens glanced at Alexander, a tinge of amusement on his face. "Alex? I thought there were only a few people who could call you that?"

"Well... I suppose I can't help that now..." Alexander groaned, ruffling Laurens' hair. 

"There would of been nothing left to do for someone less astute-" 

Disregarding the chat, the pick-up in pace had drawn everyone back in, everyone silent, willing to listen.

"He would've been dead or destitute without a cent of restitution!"

"That's the truth..." Hamilton muttered. That was always a risk- a threat to his ideals. The fact is he could be under-educated and unaware. But he wasn't, he had learned fast enough.

"Started workin', clerkin' for his late mother's landlord!" 

Alexander remembered the entire situation better than anything. How he lied to get the job and learned quickly what he needed to do.

"Tradin' sugar cane and rum and all the things he can't afford-
Scammin' for every book he can get his hands on-
Plannin' for the future see him now as he stands on-"

"This was much more than what you felt willing to share when we first met, Alexander." Eliza teased, easily brushing her fingers through her husband's hair. 

Alexander sighed softly, leaning his head back enough to see his wife. "I would've rather forgotten my past to build my future, dearest."

"I know, dear." She kissed his forehead. Alexander smiled softly, delicately tracing her face.

"The bow of a ship headed for the new land, in New York you can be a new man!" 

Alexander snorted at that. It seemed almost like his journey to the colonies was a curse. People laying below the deck in piles. It smelt of seasickness and the stench of uncleaned men, women, and children. Not to mention the boat had caught fire once before it reach the harbor. It was a miracle they arrived in one piece. 

"In New York you can be a new man (just you wait)-
In New York you can be a new man (just you wait)-
In New York you can be a new man!"

Alexander smiled. The chorus was right. A lot had changed about him since he went to New York. His opinions, his ideology, his purpose. Hercules Mulligan had taken him in and talked with him, having late-night conversations, leading Alexander to know what he wanted to be. He tossed away supporting the British and became a Patriot. He knew what he wanted for the colonies.

Lafayette, for the first time, had peeled his eyes away from the screen, staring at Hamilton. "Petite lion, I had no idea how much you had gone through! That is so much to experience, especially for a boy so young."

Hamilton smiled pitifully at Marquis. The truth is, he believed Lafayette denied how rough his own childhood was. He had lost both his parents so early, it's likely to assume he hardly knew them.

"In New York (New York)! 
Just you wait!!"

The utter confidence in the singer's voice was enough to send chills through anyone there. The feeling of pride Hamilton had moments earlier had returned, stronger this time. 

"Alexander Hamilton! (Alexander Hamilton!)
We are waiting in the wings for you. (Waiting in the wings for you.)
You could never back down, you never learned to take your time"

Hamilton frowned. Never back down? There were various situations where he backed down. Some for the good of himself or his family. He retired for a long period of time because Eliza had a miscarriage and he wanted to be there to support her. 

"Oh, Alexander Hamilton... (Alexander Hamilton)
When America sings for you
Will they know what you overcame?
Will they know you rewrote your game?"

Hamilton tilted his head, now thinking about the idea. How much did he truly change over the course of his life, and how much changed after it? Did he truly change the course of how things worked, or perhaps, is it an over-exaggeration? He stared, looking for answers, though he doubted he would find any soon.

"The world will never be the same, oh..."

Laurens glanced at Hamilton, almost curious, but Lafayette beat him to it. "Hamilton, I wasn't aware that you had such a large impact. During my tour of the colonies in 1826, I must confess that I did see many great things, but I was unsure how much had been because of you. I saw the development of the banks and things like that. I will admit that I was impressed with it all." He explained. 

Laurens smiled sadly. "I wish I was able to see you grow into the brilliant man you were."

"The ship is in the harbor now, see if you can spot him (just you wait)!
Another immigrant comin' up from the bottom (just you wait)!
His enemies destroyed his rep America forgot him!"

Hamilton smiled, though it seemed almost sad. It would make sense that he was forgotten for a while. Not everyone can be completely relevant. That would be impossible to obtain. The only person he'd expect to always be remembered would be George Washington. The first president of the United States, the one who laid the path to what it is to become. Of course, things must've changed and precedents have been adjusted or set firm in stone. There would be no other way it could be. 

"We fought with him."

"Is the taller one there supposed to be me?" Marquis questioned. "But, who's the one beside me?" 

Hamilton shrugged, unsure of who it could be. "I'm not sure... Maybe it's a friend of yours?"

"It might be... Though, I'd be entirely unsure of who."

"Me, I died for him."

Laurens swallowed dryly. "The freckled one... Is he supposed to be me-?"

Phillip glanced over to Laurens, and then back at the man on the screen. "Or is he me?" He questioned quietly, looking at Eliza. 

"Me, I trusted him."

With stance and appearance, it was clear the actor was playing George Washington. Alexander looked over, seeing the general with his chin held high, a prideful smile on his face. That's a rare sight for sure. 

"Me, I loved him."

Three of the sisters, he guessed. He notices the actress who played Eliza earlier. And he tried to guess which of the sisters the others represented. It wouldn't be Catherine and Angelica, would it? Perhaps it was the three in the room, surely that made more sense.

"And me? I'm the damn fool that shot him."

"He did not regret that whatsoever!" Alexander exclaimed. "I remember that he bragged about shooting me, right before my death." 

Across the theater, Burr seemed to silence and stare. So, that's the actor who was playing him. 

Lafayette sighed, placing a hand on Hamilton's shoulder. "Sh... It's alright, mon ami. Our friend said they'd point out inaccuracies and misconceptions after the song..."

"There's a million things I haven't done, but just you wait!!"

Alexander had a harder glare on the screen now, concentrating mainly on the Actor portraying Burr. 

"What's your name, man?"

Reiteration of a previous verse, that's always lovely.

"Alexander Hamilton!"

There was a moment when all the instruments cut off in a lovely, upbeat staccato and it faded into nothing. The screen froze and Skeeter hurried back onto the stage, nearly stumbling over themselves, hurrying to remove something from their ears. 

"Alright! So, that was the first song! I'm glad to see everyone still in their seats... And I see no one is particularly upset... So, how about I go ahead and address the first, and probably the largest misconception in this song."

Lafayette stood momentarily, stretching his legs. "Oh, please do." He spoke softly, looking around for a moment. 

"Okay, thank you. Aaron Burr's line about being a fool showed clear signs of regret. But, from his time in life, he had not regretted killing Hamilton until much later. His remorse was often expressed in his loneliness and journals. Often mentioning his, 'dear friend Hamilton... Whom I shot.' He never once fully admitted to the regret, however. He was a secretive man."

There was silence, but people nodded. Hamilton stared, curious about this person and how they possibly know so much.

"Second misconceptions. Alexander Hamilton was never completely forgotten and had various fans throughout history. Including the 26th United States president, Teddy Roosevelt!" He signaled to the side, and a small, but stout man marched in. He had a kind smile and a bushy mustache. He walked with a prideful stride as he approached the founding father. 

"Mr. Hamilton! A pleasure!" His voice was laced heavily with a southern accent, and his handshake was firm. This was a man who has fought- a man who was tough. 

"You too, Mr. Roosevelt... What- uh... year are you from?"

"President from 1901 to 1909, champ. I must say, you are truly a hero in American history! I've never seen someone rise from so little and make themselves something so large. Read your biography, and trust me, I could not put it down. You're a brilliance of men and clever beyond your wit."

Hamilton grinned widely. "From 1901? Good god, sir! It's an honor to meet you! I'm intrigued by what you know and how much has changed since my time with yours!" 

The former president wrapped him in an embrace, and Hamilton chuckled. Teddy pulled back, apologizing. "I should really be on the run, now. Trust me. Even after your dead, people can be pushy." He laughed, walking quickly to the exit. Hamilton turned his gaze back to the host. Would that be the correct term?

"Love him to death," Skeeter snickered. "A fighter he was in life. Death had to take him while he was asleep, otherwise, it would've been a fight." 

Hamilton dusted himself off a bit, flustered that someone of importance, from a time far past his own cared that much. Lafayette grinned, hugging Hamilton tightly. "That was a spectacular thing! You were that remembered well!"

"Hey, Hero of Both Worlds, you are remembered well too." Skeeter laughed, pacing the stage. They examined the crowd for a moment before pointing back at the projection. "So, I take you are all curious as to who you're played by." 

There was chatter, but people soon silenced.

"I'll start with Aaron Burr, you're played by a gentleman named Leslie Odom Jr. Hamilton- you're played by the man who wrote this musical, Lin Manuel-Miranda. Laurens and Philip, you're both portrayed as the man with all the freckles. His name is Anthony Ramos. Mr. Washington, sir, you're played by Christopher Jackson... He was the one wearing the cocked hat... Or, as we address it in modern day, tricorne... Margarita, er, Peggy... You're played by Jasmine Cephas Jones. She was the shortest of the ladies. Angelica, ma'am, you were played by Renee Goldsberry. She was the lovely lady standing the tallest. And, Ms. Elizabeth, you were played by Phillipa Soo... You saw her early in the song." Skeeter glanced around, pointing to Hercules. "Mulligan!! You are played by Okieriete Onaodowan! The lovely man you saw early on in the song, and the one you saw singing along with the man who plays Marquis de Lafayette, Daveed Diggs." He made sure to point the two out, giving a face to the name labeled. 

Everyone slowly nodded. Skeeter was taking a quick glance around again before groaning. "I realize now who I missed... There will be a brief intermission while I gather the man I missed, and I'll be joining you again soon to play the second song." He quickly hopped from the stage and hurried out the door. 

There was soft chatter, everyone discussing what they thought of the first song, and how it was relatively interesting. Even the British generals seemed amused- though it's likely because they've never quite seen a performance like such. 

If song two is as interesting as the first, then surely, this was going to be a good musical.