Gilbert was quite nervous to meet Washington. He was nineteen, he barely spoke a lick of English, and he knew the man did not have a ton of time to be meeting with teenagers, but still he came to the party dressed in his French uniform. Usually he was much more fun at dinner parties, typically dancing about with anyone he could but instead he felt like he was going to throw up as he and his friend entered the home. He was trying to gain the courage to beg the man for a command. After all, Gilbert had already given so much money to congress he believed he deserved something for it.
He felt as if he was gliding on the floor as he was led to meet the man, however his nerves changed as he saw how beautiful the man was. He shouldn’t have had such thoughts, but his cheeks turned a bright red as his hand was finally shaking George’s. Getting nervous and unsure of what to do, he leaned up on his toes to kiss at each of the man’s cheeks, as he would have with the royal’s in France. “I am pleased to meet you.” he said quickly in broken English.
@miss--machiavelli
