Don Juan almost wanted to protest when Hudson stood up, but of course that was silly. He didn't know anything about health, really, and certainly didn't know what to do about some unspecified minor illness. Where would he get off trying to prevent Hudson walking around in his own house? He was clearly quite capable, however he was feeling. A demonstration of Don Juan's little surge of helpless, hapless protectiveness that had surged up when Hudson said he wasn't well wasn't gong to cure him of whatever was wrong.

He shifted on the couch so that he could face Hudson as he walked away, eyes still eager and attentive — until Hudson said he couldn't take Don Juan seriously. It was the sort of comment that wouldn't have meant anything coming from a stranger — Don Juan might have brashly replied good or grinned and joked that he didn't take himself seriously, either. But from Hudson, who had let him drink and lounge and complain about his job (three distinct jobs, actually, in series), Hudson who had let him borrow a scarf which he'd never returned and which had quickly become one of his favorites, Hudson who didn't just fall into bed with him on occasion, but actually invited him... from Hudson, that remark stung.

"Yeah, fine," he said, suddenly brusque. He reached for his shoes and attempted to jam his foot into one without bothering to unlace it first. "I'll find someone else."

He wouldn't — he'd probably go to the club and get a room for the night, or maybe go home if it was late enough that he wouldn't have to risk talking to his parents — but Hudson didn't need to know that he had been the only one on Don Juan's list of people he wanted to spend time with tonight. Not if Hudson couldn't take him seriously.

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