Don Juan watched the man he was talking to for a moment longer, focusing in on a pimple below his lip and watching it move so that he could feign attentiveness without actually listening. He didn't have the spare brainpower to process words and muster up thoughtful responses; he was busy imagining everything Dean Hudson might be doing in the room behind him. He imagined Hudson scowling as he noticed him and heading off to get a drink. He imagined him skulking over to interrupt — so vividly that he was almost surprised when he didn't feel Hudson's hand on his shoulder. What was he doing? After enough time had passed as to be inconspicuous, he dared a glance back to see... and noticed Hudson near the dance floor, in conversation with a young woman. He looked like he was having fun. It was immediately very important to Don Juan that Hudson see him having more fun. Should he go find a young woman to talk with? Would that present better? One could certainly flirt much more openly with young women than with men.

On the other hand, he didn't want to be too transparent. The only thing worse than giving the impression he was disappointed by Hudson's rebuff was to give the impression he was desperate about it. He would not pine.

He shifted his weight, a casual gesture that he used as a cover to sidle closer to the gentleman he'd been talking with. He refocused, trying to pay at least a modicum of actual attention this time, and laughed again — the kind of gratuitous laugh you only used to communicate interest. And the fellow wasn't hideous, anyway; maybe if this didn't serve to make Hudson jealous it could at least give him some consolation at the end of the night.

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