“I need a drink.”

“Sir, you know how you get…”

Silence.

“Sir, think of the men. Last time you had a drink, we had to stay in Valley Forge for six months while you recovered from your hangover.”

“Fuck the men. If I hadn’t gotten drunk, would I have crossed the Delaware? In winter? I don’t even know how to goddamn swim—you think I’d go near the fucking Delaware sober?”

“Yes, we did indeed inflict a defeat on the Hessians. But you were looking for whores.”

George waved away the objection. “We don’t judge history by intentions, Alexander. We judge by results.”

Alexander tried the last argument available to him. “But sir, the Continental Congress specifically passed a law against you, specifically, preventing you from drinking.”

George glared with eyes colder than his wife’s tits. “Alexander, alcohol will pass my lips this night if I have to suck an Irishman’s cock to get it. Which I think would be far worse for the men’s morale.”

Alexander sighed a long suffering sigh. “I’ll go get the whiskey, sir.”