Thomas Jefferson

*tenses up, gripping the chair arms* Thomas, please... *voice shaky* This isn't you. You're married.

*laughs darkly* Martha doesn't matter.

*Ciara smiles and sits up, leaning against him* You should get some rest.

Thomas: I'd rather be with you. *He pulls her closer and kisses her forehead.*

*Ciara blushes* But you need your sleep.

Thomas Jefferson: Fine, you can brush my hair. But only if you promise to be careful and to not hurt yourself. *Thomas让步*