Thomas watched as the skittish man quickly dash out of view. Aaron, Aaron Burr, that was his name. The man was small, tiny and obviously malnourished or lacked nutrients as a kid, a shaven head and nervous voice. It was adorable but Thomas shook it off, he couldn't get attached, not now at least. He barely knew the man, for all he knew Aaron could be a horrible man. Or worse, he could be a slimy lawyer. Thomas didn't want to associate with such men. But then again he wasn't any better, for the moment at least. He lied. Of course he saw Aaron's skin, how it was marked up with scars and the tattoo on his neck. Again, it was none of his business. Aaron seemed to be good friends with James and James would take action if something serious was wrong. It wasn't his issue and it didn't effect him.

Distracting himself, Thomas looked around his friends office and wasn't surprised. James' office was neatly tidied up and sunlight streamed out of the office windows, there was a small plant on the corner of the gray desk and some files in a neat stack. The place screamed James. Thomas looked over the office again, he would need at least ten minutes to "Thomas" it up. Just some more colour and maybe some little trinkets-

"If you dare 'Thomas' up my wife's hard work I'll partner you up with Hamilton on coffee runs."

Thomas turned around, grinning; sure enough James was there. "Come on, you know you love my taste in decor."

"You built a wall in your apartment so you can have an alcove," James pointed out, his right eyebrow raising.

"Alcoves are amazing! How many people in New York can say that they have an alcove?"

James pushed Thomas out of his office, scared that if he stayed any longer then Thomas would make a decor plan involving the teletubbies. "Sensible people."

Thomas gasped dramatically. "Are you saying I'm unsensible?!"

"No," James said, "I'm saying you're insane."

"Now you're just being a dick," Thomas rolled his eyes. He knew in a few seconds James would lightly hit the back of his head.

Virginians were meant to be gentlemen, gentlemen aren't supposed to swear. Which was bad for Thomas because he was the human inity of cuss words. Every swear word known to man - plus a few more - has come out of his mouth before he was fifthteen. Thankfully Thomas didn't have to worry about that too much because it was accused for his fast wit. Almost everyone accused it. Then he meet James Madison.

Thomas went to France for school, only coming home for the holiday breaks and half of summer. He was proud to be born and raised in Virginia but he would rather spend the summers in France than in his dull neighborhood, his friends were in France and no one really bothered to want to know him, so all throughout elementary Thomas was spent most of his days trying to get in trouble. His parents scolded him for and threatened to send him back to France. Good, Thomas had thought, that's where I want to be. But apparently his parents loved him or whatever and set up "playdates" with a small, sickly boy who was wearing a sweater in the summer.

At first glance, Thomas didn't like James. He was sick and stuffy, never wanted to go outside, and he didn't like Mac'n'Cheese. But he was forced to stay with the kid in the one month of summer he came to Virginia. Talk about wasting time. Somehow Thomas was able to drag James outside to a local mall. Both boys were from wealthy families and had some cash in their pockets but neither really needed or wanted anything so Thomas was just flirting around with some local girls. James was rolling his eyes and sulking, he didn't want anything to do with Thomas, but his attention was stolen when Thomas said "bitch". Like a goddamn ninja, James spun on his heels and quickly punched Thomas in the arm. Of course Thomas was confused and swear at James, which only provoked him to punch Thomas again.

"What the hell is your problem!?"

"Don't swear."

From then on Thomas made sure not to swear around James. The two eventually got along. Thomas was glad because James was a nice guy, he was easy to talk to and wasn't judgemental, and it didn't hurt that James also didn't have any tattoos either. Or at least for some moments. When James had shown the pink heart tattoo, Thomas ... wasn't sure how to feel. James was the only friend he had that didn't have a tattoo, it was their connection and their own little topic to talk about. Thomas secretly liked staying up late and listening to James talk about tattoos he saw that day and what he thought they meant, how James would try to come up some theories on why you couldn't remove someone else's tattoo. Now that was all down the drain. James would be too busy snogging however the tattoo and wouldn't question a thing. But, to his surprise, Dolley was a pretty chill person. They actually hanged out and nothing seemed to change; just an extra head. Thomas was happy he overacted.

"Ow," Thomas muttered as James hit the back of his head. "I'm a grown ass man, James. I can swear when I want to."

"You can swear when I'm dead-"

"Shouldn't be long," Thomas stuck out his tongue.

James rolled his eyes. "And if we're talking about you being a 'grown ass man', then no one would ever see you swear."

"You're rude," Thomas pouted.

"I'm realistic."

Thomas decided to leave the subject alone. It was one of those playful banters that you could get sucked into, and Thomas knew he would lose to James. James dragged him through the department, Thomas had no idea where but he didn't really care, it was just like any other; just new faces and different brand of coffee. They were walking around the small kitchen slash break room when Thomas saw Aaron. That's all it take for Thomas to shut that rest of the world down. Aaron was leaning against the counter, a plain white mug in his hands that no doubt had coffee in it, he had a bored and tired expression on his face. Thomas felt a twinge of pity. It was only morning and Aaron looked like he wanted to sleep. Then he looked to Aaron's right and his jaw dropped.

It was soccer mom. Expect he was standing and talking off Aaron's off. Now that he wasn't in sitting in a some crappy car, Thomas could see him much better. He had sick skin and bags under his eyes, brown hair tied back in a messy ponytail, and he wore dirty jeans and a matching dirty green hoodie. He looked liked a dad or a college senior. Thomas really didn't like him already, but when he saw what the dickweed was holding Thomas's blood boiled. In the man's hand was his cane.

"You little shit!"