John sat there, staring determinedly out the window, proposing loudly his new attack on the southern states and all who still dared oppose independency. He was in the middle of one of the primary statements in his argument when that beautiful, angelic sound floated to his ears. He, John Adams, the most voluble man in Philadelphia, stopped mid-sentence. Turning around slowly, he found Thomas with the violin tucked up lovingly beneath his chin. Thomas swayed ever so slightly, his eyes closed as he smoothly ran the bow across the strings. John was stricken silent. When Thomas finally lifted the bow, his eyes opened to stare blankly at John, as if he were waiting for the other man's reaction. John delicately walked up to stand before Thomas. "Thom…" he whispered. Thomas grabbed John's hand and waist lightly, pulling him forward in a flowing waltz. John let himself be sucked into his lover's dance, leaning into Thomas' warmth and love. And he thought, maybe he did talk too much.