"I can handle it!" Laurens exclaimed, glaring at his father from across the table. In his burst of anger, he had stood up furiously. The chair skidded out from under him and backwards.

The two were having a brawl. Laurens wanted to work, his only request of this time of finically desperation, was to work. His father put him down at every chance he got. Henry Laurens would try to manipulate him out of it, try to make his son forget about what Laurens wanted, the full ten yards of blatant toxic controlling.

Henry didn't believe Laurens was responsible enough to be working. He loved his son, but the two by no means were friends. Laurens never saw eye to eye with Henry. Even as a child, Laurens would rebel against him. It was never anything too extreme, but enough to show Henry that Laurens was not ready to be pushed into anything he did not want to do. It had happened a few times, and once he started catching on to the manipulation, Laurens was eager to call Henry out on it.

Polite and respectful as Laurens may be, he wasn't an idiot. Far from it. Polite, respectful but still. Downright reckless and bull-like at times.

His mother used to say Laurens was born a rebel.

"Do you know the amount of precision it takes to work in a factory?" Henry said, maddening calm. He stood up, mimicking his son.

If looks could kill, Henry would be six feet under. The only thing that kept it from being silent was the angry breath of Laurens.

"You don't think I have what it takes to be precise? Damnit, I am a man, father, let me do one thing during this time of need. The banks are shutting down, I will not sit on my ass and do nothing!—"

"Watch your mouth." Henry nearly snapped, but kept his cool. However, his voice was stern.

Laurens grit his teeth.

"Man as you are, no son of mine will be working in a factory alongside those of poor."

"Yeah? Yeah, get used to it. We are borderline poor." Laurens told Henry with some internalized hate.

That made Henry lose his cool. "We are not anywhere near poor!"

Laurens ignored the sudden pang of fear in his chest as his father yelled. He put his fear aside as quickly as it came. "Tell that to your bank account."

Henry stayed in furious silence, staring at his son before turning and going upstairs to his room. Laurens stood unmoving. His father had never done that before.

Did he..win the argument? Laurens felt the corner of his mouth twitch up into a smile. Despite the circumstances of which they were arguing, Laurens felt great enjoyment to have had actually gotten his father so stumped, that he had to leave the room!

After his momentarily true joy, Laurens slowly started to wonder if his father was coming back. He heard slight movement from Henry's room, but nothing more than that. Laurens slowly took his seat again, furrowing his eyebrows and looking at the stairs.

He was going over what was said in the argument and what Henry's plan was to do next.

Did Henry think he wasn't responsible enough because of what happened to Jemmy? That was out of his hands. He couldn't have done anything. Laurens' pride was washed away as he thought, 'I could've been there. I should've been there.' Of course that was why his father didn't want him in the factory. Well, maybe not. Henry really never said that out loud. Maybe it was supposed to just be implied.

"Get up." Henry said, shattering Laurens' train of thought.

"What?"

"I said, get up." Henry repeated, walking down the stairs. John, feeling a little disoriented and obedient as a dog might, stood.

"Are you going somewhere?"

"We are going somewhere." Henry said, starting towards the door. Laurens went after him, in a slight hurry to catch up. He closed the door behind them, walking quickly beside his father. Henry walked down the street, elaborating no more on where they were headed.

"Father? Father? Sir, where are we..?" Laurens attempted to get Henry to speak.

"Jack, do the world a favor and stop talking. You're wasting precious oxygen." Henry said, having a tone of exasperation and disappointment. Laurens went silent, falling in sync with Henry's steps.

Henry had taken Laurens to a factory. It was dirty and nearing run down. Some of the workers had taken off their shirts due to the heat.

"You really think you can handle this?" Henry said after letting Laurens scan the factory himself.

"Of course I can." Laurens said, obvious confidence in his voice.

Henry sighed. "No, Jack, I don't think you understand. This is true labor. True hard work, and I don't think—"

"You don't think I'm a hard worker?"

"That's not what I mean." Henry said, back to that maddening calm, almost condescending tone. "I just mean it'd be too difficult for you. People as rich as me and you—"

"Never compare me to you. I am nothing like you."

"Jack, stop interrupting and let me speak." Henry said impatiently. He took a moment before starting back up again. "People as rich as you and I don't belong in somewhere like here. These men, are dirt poor. You, however, are an esteemed man. Bound to do great things." Henry said, smiling a little.

"I was born into a family of riches. Something out of my control. These men, born into poverty, was out of their control. If it wasn't for my wealth, I wouldn't be 'bound to do great things'. I'm no more and no less than these men before us. And if you, sir, were as intelligent as people say you are, you'd realize that too."

After years of letting his father boss him around, he was going to be as reckless as he'd like to prove who he was. Laurens wanted to show he was more than just 'The Son of Henry Laurens.' He was his own man.

Henry looked to his son in shock, balling his fists.

Laurens glanced to his father, giving a short smirk of gratification, before heading out of the factory.