Early 1887 — An Afterparty

Don Juan had seen Hudson at the ball earlier in the night, but that was nothing unusual; he saw him not-infrequently at society events, and had been deftly steering clear of him since Hudson had returned his coat. For a while it had been a point of pride, because he didn't trust himself not to look foolish if he tried to strike up a conversation, and he still didn't know exactly where Hudson stood on matters. He had seemed disappointed during their last conversation, and that had stuck with Don Juan; it was a sign that what they'd had could still be revived, at least in some form. But if he was rekindling something he wanted to do it right this time, not set himself up to make the same mistakes as before — which meant he needed to figure out what the fatal flaw had been, and how to avoid it. That had taken some thought to work out, but he had a working hypothesis now... which meant he'd been waiting on the right opportunity to action it. A ball wasn't the right place; not enough real privacy, and Don Juan didn't want to engage in the same kind of antics that had led to their last half-conversation. It seemed like the wrong foot to start off on, trying to make Hudson jealous — particularly when he had no reason to care about what Don Juan was doing.

But now Don Juan had moved from the ball to an afterparty, a collection of two dozen young people crowded into someone's house and pouring drinks more liberally, and Dean Hudson had just walked in. This was the opportunity. Don Juan went to the sideboard and poured a whiskey he thought Hudson would like, without bothering to ask the host. Then he made his way to Hudson, sidling into the man's personal space — the size of the room and the number of people in it did not permit much else — and pressed the glass into his hand.

"Look what the cat dragged in," he said with a smug smile. Then, in French (call it a show of good will): "Plans tonight?"

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