Summer, 1888 — Excalibur

This was the first time in weeks that Don Juan had made eye contact with Hudson. He kept seeing him everywhere, of course, but typically as soon as he recognized him he hurriedly glanced away. He'd keep furtively looking back at him throughout whatever event they happened to be at, but never for more than half a second. He suspected Hudson was doing the same, but they never happened to look at each other at the same moment.

Seeing Hudson here was unexpected, though. Don Juan had a membership, as both of his brothers had; Hudson did not. It was Don Juan's territory, to the extent that either of them had territory. Don Juan was ostensibly playing cards, but since he'd caught sight of Hudson he'd been looking at him more often and longer than he looked at his hand, trying to deduce who he'd come in with and what he was doing here. Of course one of those looks had lasted too long, and Hudson caught him looking.

Don Juan smirked. He didn't know why; it was just the expression that popped onto his face. Better than crumbling, he supposed. He was glad he happened to be sober — that had almost never been the case for the weeks after Hudson had left him, but now it had been over a month and things had leveled out — some. He was sober during the daytimes now, anyway. Usually.

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