In one dimension, Hudson was reacting more strongly to this than Don Juan had. Don Juan hadn't sworn once since reading the letter. Hudson had turned to face him with a sincere expression. He was saying I'm sorry. Don Juan, meanwhile, had reached in to the hollow in his chest where he supposed feelings like grief were meant to be kept and had come up with fistfuls of air. Gaps where things might have once been, hollows that retained the shape of things that didn't live there any more. On the other hand, Don Juan had sent cryptic mail and started drinking in the Irish countryside, so. Maybe there was something.

In any case, Hudson's reaction had strengthened Don Juan's impression that he was doing this wrong. Feeling this wrong.

"Yeah, I'm..." he began, tone noncommittal. After struggling for a word for a second he gestured with the liquor bottle and continued, "Not even drunk yet, so."

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