While dismounting, he furrowed his brow upon seeing his best friend's horse tied to the hitch out front. William paying a house visit was not unusual by any means, but at this time of night? With this in mind, John entered his home whilst taking off his soaked tricorne so that he could scratch his head in confusion.

As he shrugged off his similarly soaked cloak, he opened his mouth to sound his arrival. A feminine giggle cut him off, however, wafting down the stairs from the second floor.

His blood ran cold. While William was quite the ladies man, John had lain with his own fair share of women and he knew what that kind of giggle entailed at this time of night. His sudden fear was confirmed by the follow up of a man's low chuckle, and the giggle turned into a light moan.

John's world went bloody red as, with trembling fingers, he slipped out of his shoes without a sound. He left the oil lantern unlit and cold on the table. He knew his own home like the back of his hand, and his wet socks made their way up the stairs in pitch black darkness, step by deliberate step, forehead vein pulsating with each sound coming from her bedroom.

He was going to open the door, but just when he was about to turn the knob, he heard her cry, "Oh William!"

The door blasted open, coming off at a hinge as shards and splinters flew everywhere. John stormed in, fists balled, legs bowed, the farmboy-turned-militiaman-turned-soldier ready to break his best friend's face at the slightest provocation.

William's face is as pale as the sheets. John barely caught a glimpse of her face before she hid herself behind the sheets with a scream, but it was enough to break his heart into a million pieces. Enough for him to focus all his rage on William, rather than her.

One balled fist unfurled into a trembling finger now, aiming for the center of William's sweaty forehead. "William! No more than a week has passed since the death of my father, and you do this?? William, you are truly the most dastardly fucker of mothers!"