Going home? Was it that time already? Don Juan thought the night was still early, but he hadn't looked at his pocket watch since getting up from the card table. Had he lost track of time in the bedroom just now? It was possible, but he didn't think it that likely. He really hadn't had much to smoke, and hadn't loitered too long afterwards — just long enough to feel the high hit him, to know he'd had enough. It couldn't be late enough for Hudson to be leaving yet — and leaving too early might draw attention, moreso than having skipped the night entirely. Maybe something had upset him and he didn't want to stay any longer; there was something in his tone.

"Something happen?" he asked, though the answer was obvious; what he really needed to know was what. And what he could do about it. Don Juan didn't care about most things in life and tended not to get involved in society drama; he'd let an insult roll off his back without flinching, or even lean into it with a grin... but if someone had said something that had upset Hudson he was quite prepared to go track them down and make them look and feel foolish. Even if no one was to blame per ce he could try and do something to make Hudson feel better. If they hadn't been in someone else's hallway, he would have already leaned in to smooth that crease in Hudson's brow with a kiss or ten.

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