Don Juan wasn't keen to keep pace with Hudson on his way off the dance floor, but it didn't seem like he had much of a choice. Blustering ahead just to get away from him would have been too obvious, and he didn't want to make this into a thing. He didn't want Hudson to know he had spent the last month oscillating between thinking about him and getting intoxicated to avoid thinking about him. One of those facts might stir something up — Hudson's erstwhile desire to throw caution to the wind and be alarmingly romantic. The other would, Don Juan assumed, make Hudson worry about him, and Hudson wasn't in a position to worry about him any more.

So he plodded along behind Hudson on the way to the stairs, sulking at this turn of events. He made a meager attempt to not be obviously sulking but suspected it was obvious regardless. Probably not just to Hudson; probably to everyone. He wore his heart on his sleeve when he was drinking. He ought to go home, but it wasn't even midnight yet.

They reached the stairs. As Don Juan descended (with his eyes firmly on the middle-distance, so as not to see whether Hudson offered him a hand or not and therefore avoid the decision of whether to take it) he announced melancholically, "I think I'll go cozy up to the lions."

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