Don Juan thought it had worked, for a moment. Then Hudson caught up with him. Something in the back of his chest fluttered and he crushed it with a scowl. "Feeling masochistic tonight?" he asked dryly. He thought he had made it clear he didn't intend to be very good company. Not for Hudson, anyway. He could probably shift his mood to something more pleasant and perhaps even be charming if called upon, but not with someone who made him feel so aware of all his uncut edges.

"Or are you playing knight-in-shining-armor, here to save me from myself?" he continued. He put his hands in his coat pockets and shook them at Dean, to demonstrate that they were empty. Empty of potion vials, empty of pills. Just the usual flavor of self-destruction tonight.

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