Don Juan hesitated, caught between how genuinely lovely it sounded to have a meal with Hudson and the certainty that he'd end up saying something very stupid if he stayed. It would have been smarter to leave, but he didn't know how to manage it now. If Hudson had invited him to stay, and Don Juan had shown up pretending he'd forgotten which date it was, it was going to be hard to sell a lie that he had some other pressing engagement to attend to. He could claim he wasn't hungry, but that wouldn't get him out of hanging around. Really the only way this might have worked was if Hudson had said he was busy, and then Don Juan could have shrugged and promised to come back tomorrow. If Hudson had no plans, there wasn't really any way for him to leave without arousing suspicion.

He still had the manuscript tucked into the waistband of his pants — he was going to have to pretend to go use the lavatory and some point and find a way to get rid of that. He certainly didn't want to give it to Hudson now. It felt too... cute. But he also had no illusions that he'd be getting through an evening with Hudson with his pants still on.

"Peckish, sure," he agreed. "What's on?"

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